


Born to Dance in the Dark

by KatelynnKittaly



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Final Fantasy XV, Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Archaeology, Battlestar Galactica References, Canonical Character Death, Dancing, De-Aged, Doctor Who References, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loss of Virginity, Marriage, Minor Violence, Nature, Pitioss Ruins Theory, Plot, Science Fiction, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Solheim (Final Fantasy XV), Star Trek References, Telepathic Bond, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy, Temporal Paradox, Time Loop, Time Shenanigans, Time Travel, Virginity, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 04:05:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 90
Words: 619,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15088619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatelynnKittaly/pseuds/KatelynnKittaly
Summary: They had never left Insomnia before in their lives, never killed anything beyond a practice dummy, never seen the stars. The four of them were ecstatic to get out from under that dome and see the world, but they didn’t understand why they had to take the girl with them. She seemed to know even less about the world than they did…that was, until Insomnia fell.As they traversed those stunning and deadly landscapes, the group began uncovering shameful secrets tucked away in the forgotten corners of Lucis—sealed away by Solheim and the gods. But what impact did these shocking discoveries have on their course today, and how did they affect the prophecy?About as close to a Doctor Who Crossover as you can get without actually being one. No Doctor Who knowledge required.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose I should warn you all before I begin this monstrosity that I've messed with characters and their backstories a bit to allow for an even progression of character growth throughout the story, but hopefully not so much as to be completely implausible. So if you're cool with that, buckle up. You're reading a fanfiction written by someone who has technically never played the game and who has almost zero experience writing fiction (just the one Gilmore Girls piece a long time ago). Have fun!
> 
> Gonna do a blanket credit here, plenty of lines from Doctor Who, Battlestar Galactica, and Star Trek TNG scattered throughout this piece. If I have a chapter with a big speech pulled from somewhere, a fan theory, or other thing, those will be located in chapter.

_For he comes, the human child,_

_To the waters and the wild_

_With a faery, hand in hand,_

_For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand._

* * *

“His Majesty is with the Marshal and a new recruit at the moment, but he instructed me to let you in as soon as you arrived. He said that you should watch and stay out of the way,” his Uncle Caeli said, opening the throne room door.

Ignis bowed his head slightly as he breezed through the open door. “Thank you, Uncle,” he said in a low voice. Modulating his steps so that they wouldn’t echo in the vast throne room, he came to a stop about halfway inside the room, along the wall and near one of Crownsguard on duty. They met each other’s eyes briefly, and Ignis nodded in greeting.

He looked up to the throne to see King Regis staring down at a man and a girl standing on the landing of the stairs. The man, at least, Ignis knew well—Cor Leonis, Marshal of the Crownsguard. Ignis frequently sparred with him and found him to be a formidable foe, impossible to touch. Even Gladio, who was vastly more skilled in combat than Ignis himself, had never managed to best the man in mock battle.

“Cor,” King Regis said, “I’ve been running Laura through a series of tests to assess her readiness for her latest assignment. She’s already proven herself by sneaking past my security. Why don’t you see if her weapons skills are sufficient?”

Ignis’s eyes shifted over to the girl in surprise. He couldn’t see much from his position, but he guessed her to be somewhere between the ages of sixteen to twenty-four. The hood on her dark blue velvet cloak was pulled down to reveal her long hair, so black that it was nearly blue. The silhouette of her full gown made her appear more at home here in the throne room than in a combat situation, and he wondered how she had managed to sneak past the palace’s considerable security wearing such a garment.

“Yes, your Majesty. Would you prefer I run her in a practice room, or here in the throne room?” Cor replied.

“Here in the throne room, if you please. I would like to watch personally.”

While Ignis was mostly successful in maintaining his neutral expression, a single eyebrow seemed to twitch up involuntarily in shock. He himself had never been asked to display his weapons prowess in front of the King in such a manner, and no one he had heard of had been tested in the throne room in front of an entire shift of Crownsguard. For what assignment could the King possibly be considering this girl that such a measure was necessary? He had to admit that he was curious as to why the King should wish him to witness this. Summoning his notebook and pulling his fountain pen from his jacket pocket, he turned to the first page and readied himself to take notes should they be necessary.

As Cor and the girl moved to the main floor so they would have more room, Ignis was able to see her face. She was clearly high nobility with her black hair and that coloring; her thick black lashes rimmed almond-shaped eyes that glowed bright blue against luminescent alabaster skin. She appeared as though she could be Noct’s sister.

But she was also pale and wide-eyed. She even looked as though she were shaking a little. Was she ill? Perhaps she was nervous regarding her upcoming trial. Ignis knew he would be if he were in her position. Still, she was small and lithe; no doubt she would be quick with a blade if she had the skill. Even if there was no hope of beating her opponent, it was possible she would make a good showing, perhaps even wearing that gown that was so inappropriate for combat.

The girl took off her cloak, placing it neatly on the newel post of the stairs that led from the throne. Without it, her body looked even smaller and more vulnerable.

The Marshal had summoned his katana while he waited for her to quickly pull her hair into a thick plait. She turned to face him, her stance signaling that she was ready for an attack, but Ignis could see no weapons in her hands or on her person. Ignis’s lips quirked up in a small smile. This girl was sneaky. She must have the ability to summon and was waiting for the last moment to bring her weapon into existence so the Marshal couldn’t gain information about her fighting style from her choice of blade.

The Marshal launched his attack, trotting lightly forward, but waiting until the last moment to make an offensive move in order to gain back some advantage after showing his hand so early. It wasn’t until he had nearly reached her that she pulled out her weapons—two gleaming silver-white falchions, with curved blades and delicately sculpted basket hilts of leaves and vines. But Ignis didn’t believe it was the weapons themselves that shocked the Marshal into faltering in his advance, it was the way the world seemed to shift to accommodate her wish as she pulled them out of thin air beside her. The very air seemed to shiver and shriek in protest as the blades appeared, and even she winced a little, as though she weren’t expecting the sound. His hesitation so subtle that even Ignis’s keen eyes barely caught it, the Marshal pushed forward and met her blades with a clang of metal on metal that echoed through the vast throne room.

The girl seemed to choose a defensive tactic at first, spinning to the side with the Marshal’s every thrust and advance. She held her blades out at the ready, but not once did she strike out with them except to defend against his katana. To Ignis, it appeared as though she were dancing with the man, her every move kicking up the heavy fabric of her gown and sending it swirling in a wave of blue and gold embroidery. Her dress seemed not to hinder her at all as she twisted away from his blade, whirling almost faster than Ignis’s eye could track and stopping at the Marshal’s back. She could have ended the contest right there, but she chose to back up and allow him to turn around, her posture assuming a defensive position once again as she held her falchions out at the ready.

After several more minutes of avoiding the Marshal’s blows, her strategy shifted suddenly to offensive, though Ignis could spot no visual clue as to the reason for the change. As she reached above her head with both blades to meet the full strength of the Marshal’s attack, her eyes full of fire, Ignis thought for a fleeting moment that he had never seen a more stunning sight. He’d seen varying levels of skill in bladework since he was a child, had studied the art extensively since he was a teenager, and had apprenticed under some of the finest blademasters of the Crownsguard, including the Marshal himself. This measured and precise art practiced in such a manner, with such a graceful flair, was a practice Ignis could appreciate. He himself had often sought after methods to improve his own form, so he made a note to inquire after her trainer when he returned from Altissia.

The moment their three blades clashed, the girl lowered one of her swords to touch the flat of her blade against the Marshal’s throat—a touch and a point for her. He staggered back slightly before advancing again, his katana a blur of motion. She ducked beneath the strike and swept a leg out, but Ignis could tell that she was too far away to make contact and trip him. Had she done that deliberately to alert the Marshal of a potential weakness? If so, it was quite an insolent move to execute in the middle of a trial meant for her.

At this point, her onslaught became swift and vicious, but still, she didn’t seem eager to end the contest. Despite watching her touch the Marshal five more times, Ignis knew from watching her defensive measures that she could move faster than she was and could end this on her whim. Was she _toying_ with the man? The Marshal appeared to be tiring, his movements growing slower as she continued to make strike after strike, stepping forward as he began to give ground. Sensing his weakness, the girl leapt at him, batting his sword to the side with her left blade. He landed on his back with her perched over him, his right arm trapped beneath her left falchion, his left trapped beneath her knee, and her right falchion at his throat. The fabric of her ornate gown pooled over the man’s legs and on the floor around them like a puddle of water.

The room was still for several moments, stunned to silence, and Ignis wondered who would be the first to break the spell that seemed to hold the room captive.

“Sorry,” she murmured almost subserviently, and the Marshal let out a bark of laughter.

“Don’t be,” he continued to chuckle as she moved off him. “It’s good to be defeated every now and then. Reminds me to keep improving.”

The air shrieked again in a flash of silver light as she placed her blades back into thin air, making it clear to Ignis that she didn’t use the magic of the Crystal. She offered a hand to help the Marshal up, and the man looked around the throne room at the Crownsguard, who stood open-mouthed in their alcoves at regular intervals toward the visitor’s door.

“Don’t think this means you all will be so lucky,” he grunted before catching Ignis’s eyes. “Ignis.”

“Marshal,” he replied, bowing slightly before realizing he had not yet greeted His Majesty. Placing his pen and notebook in his jacket pocket and walking straight-backed to the stairs, he stopped next to the girl, who was still breathing heavily against her corset.

He crossed his right arm over his chest and bowed deeply. “Your Majesty.”

“Ahh, Ignis, my boy. Thank you for coming. Please have my son and the rest of the group meet me here tomorrow morning. I should like to see you all off, and I have a few things to say to my son before he sets out to meet his bride.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. I shall have him ready as early as is possible for His Highness.” It was likely that Ignis would have to drag the Prince out of bed and toss him bodily into the car, as early as they were expected to leave tomorrow. He sighed inwardly. It was going to be yet another sleepless night.

“And a last-minute addition, I would like you to take Laura here with you tomorrow,” he said, gesturing to the girl.  “As you have no doubt noticed, she has . . . skills, which will serve you well on your journey.”

Ignis suppressed the desire to let his mouth drop open as he stared up at the King. His Majesty had been testing her for their own journey? Did he really believe they would need that much combat expertise to attend the Prince’s wedding, even located as it was in Niflheim-occupied territory? Gladio was already coming with them, and Ignis himself was more than proficient with his daggers. The treaty was to be signed in a matter of days, so who was the King expecting them to meet? Still, it wasn’t his place to question His Majesty’s orders.

He turned to the girl, bowing deeply. “Ignis Scientia, at your service. It is an honor and a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

Now that he could see her face more clearly, he thought there was something familiar about her eyes. Frustrated that he couldn’t place where he knew her from, he said, “Forgive me; do you know where I might recognize you from? You appear familiar, but I’m afraid I can’t quite place from where.”

Her voice was soft as she replied in an accent similar to his own, “I believe I’ve seen you in the library in the past couple of days.” Judging by her elocution, she was most certainly from a noble family, of formal education, and a demeanor of classical upbringing.

“Ah, that’s a possibility. I’ve been in the stacks for long stretches recently, researching the areas we’re to be traveling through for our journey,” he said. And he hadn’t slept a full night through in weeks. He hoped desperately that the temporary relinquishment of his clerical duties in the Citadel would allow him more time to sleep on the road, as he wasn’t certain how many more cans of Ebony his body would allow before committing mutiny.

“So you’re acquainted. Very good,” King Regis said almost jovially, and they both looked up to the throne. “I shall see you all back here tomorrow morning then.”

Ignis disagreed with his king’s definition of ‘acquainted,’ but bowing low, he said instead, “Tomorrow morning, Your Majesty.” He nodded farewell to the Marshal and the girl before turning on his heel and striding out.

There was still so much to accomplish by tomorrow morning—picking up the Regalia from the royal garage, exchanging enough crowns into gil that they might spend the night in Galdin before setting sail, and assisting Noct with packing up his apartment were just the tasks he needed to complete within the next few hours. He would have to move quickly if he was to accomplish everything before they left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem excerpt from W.B. Yeats.
> 
> I realize they use yen in game, but I reject that notion. They use Lucian crowns now.
> 
> As a general rule, the official timeline of the game is pretty much shot to hell in this story. The signing ceremony is a couple of weeks after they leave Insomnia, car trips take as long as I feel like they do, and other historical non-canonicity. Just a warning!
> 
> Also, the game is quite different in other languages due to localization...idiosyncrasies, especially English. Despite this, I will be using English for the most part unless otherwise noted.
> 
> I'd also like to thank the reddit moderators, BA and OS, for all the help they've given me on this piece between lore and headcanon discussions. I've thanked them "in person" for all the information they've given me for this piece, even if I didn't strictly follow all the canon they've so painstakingly told me, but I'd like to acknowledge here how amazing, kind, and helpful they are.


	2. Chapter 2

Noct flopped onto the couch, allowing the cushy black fabric to sink under his weight as it threatened to swallow him whole. He’d miss this couch. The sectional was perfect for getting together with Prompto—and sort of Iggy, pulling the TV out of his room, and just kicking back with a good game for a few hours.

“Takin’ a break already? We just started back up again,” Gladio growled as he taped a box shut and hauled it to the stack by the front door.

“I certainly hope not,” Ignis replied as he leaned over the counter to check his packing lists. “There are more tasks to complete than we have hours left before we leave.”

“What, you didn’t schedule everything out to the minute?” Noct said with a smirk.

Iggy opened his mouth to speak before closing it again. He hesitated before replying, “Apologies, Highness. There’s simply more to do than I anticipated.”

Noct always got the sense that Iggy originally wanted to say something else when he hesitated like that—like maybe he was trying to bite back some sarcastic or witty comeback only Specs could think of. He wished that were the case. It’d be nice to see him let loose a little for once, prove there was a human being under all those manners. Iggy was always so damn perfect, so calm. He never seemed to lose that stuffy stoicism and relax or smile. The guy was a workaholic, bringing paperwork or scrubbing down the kitchen even as he and Prompto tried to get him to play games. And he was always getting on Noct’s ass to do better—to be as good as he was at everything. Basically, Iggy was a pain in the ass.

Noct shrugged. “Whatever. Makes no difference to me if stuff gets done.” He didn’t see why Iggy was always freaking out everything. It wasn’t like someone else couldn’t take care of what they left behind anyway. “How’d the visit with Dad go? There’s rumors all over the city about him this afternoon. Judging by the timing, you should’ve been there to see it.”

Iggy reached into the cabinets, pulled out a stack of plates and bowls, and set them on the counter. As he carefully wrapped each dish in newspaper and placed them neatly in the box next to the sink, he said, “The visit was most . . . intriguing, but to what rumors are you referring?”

Prompto waddled in from the bedroom carrying a huge, heavy box and dropped it next to the pile of the others with a dramatic sigh. “Seriously, Iggy? You haven’t heard? It’s all over _Gabbi Sayz_.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t had the time to keep up with the news, let alone the royal gossip sites, as of late,” he said in a dry tone, raising an eyebrow at Prompto.

Noct rolled his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling. “Looks like my dad has a new girlfriend—and she’s my age. Ugh, that’s disgusting. Did you see her while you were there?”

It didn’t really matter to him if his dad dated; his mom had been dead for so long he didn’t even remember her. But it’d sure as hell be gross to have a stepmother his own age, or even younger, if the rumors were true.

Iggy frowned at him. “No. Honestly, you know by now not to trust those sites, particularly when the news is so sensational.”

“It’s not just the gossip sites,” Prompto said, throwing himself into the couch cushions next to Noct. “I was getting my Crownsguard fatigues and meeting Gladio’s dad this afternoon, and I heard the other Crownsguard members talking. Dude. The King had her fight Cor the Immortal right there in the throne room. Cor was even in there talking about it!”

“The Crownsguard themselves are confirming that Laura is the King’s paramour? That seems unlikely.”

Noct bolted upright to stare at Iggy. “Wait, so you _did_ meet her?”

“I did. And I can confirm that she did, in fact, spar with the Marshal in the throne room. Defeated him quite handily—wearing full royal court regalia, I might add.”

“Damn,” Glado said appreciatively. “Wish I coulda seen that.”

That was the rumor Noct had heard, but even though it was pretty awesome that someone had handed Cor his own ass for once, it wasn’t what he really wanted to hear about. “And did she and my dad hold hands afterward?” 

Iggy’s eyebrows seemed to twitch up a little in surprise. “I cannot say for absolute certain; I left just after the match was over. However, I have good reason to have my doubts.”

If Iggy had doubts about anything, it was worth paying attention to. Noct never could figure out how he did it, but the guy was right about _everything_. It was actually kinda annoying. “Oh yeah, and what reason’s that?”

When Iggy’s lip pulled up into a subtle smirk, Noct knew whatever he was gonna say next was gonna be really, really bad news. Anything that amused Specs was sure to be a pain in the ass for him.

“Because His Majesty has ordered that she come along with us tomorrow.”

“What?!” Gladio and Noct exclaimed together.

Prompto giggled and pushed Noct over on his side into the couch cushions. “Dude, you’re gonna be traveling with your new stepmom!”

“As I said, I highly doubt it. Please, all of you get back to work, else we shall never finish,” Iggy said as he pulled down another stack of dishes from the cabinet.

“Uptight, overbearing, never let me rest for a second,” Noct grumbled under his breath as he and Prompto got off the couch and started removing books from the shelves. He didn’t see why they all had to work their asses off just because Specs had to have everything perfect. It wasn’t like they were never coming back. Couldn’t they do this later?

“Did he say why we had to take her? It’s gonna be a cramped ride with five of us in the Regalia,” Gladio asked.

“He simply said that we did, and I wasn’t about to question his directive,” Iggy replied.

“Huh. Gonna need to pick up some more gear then. Maybe even a bigger tent. Hope she’s got more than ball gowns to wear, otherwise it’s gonna be a rough trip,” Gladio said.

“We don’t even know if we’re gonna be able to camp, though,” Prompto pointed out. “If we can get there in time for tomorrow’s ferry, we’ll be in Altissia by the next day.”

“Prompto has a point, though we may want to stay the night in Galdin before we set sail—as a celebration, of sorts. Let us bring what we have, and she may bring her own equipment with her. I’m certain we’ll be able to purchase equipment outside the city should we need anything,” Iggy said. He let out a small sigh before continuing, “That’s the kitchen sorted. Gladio, Prompto informed me that you had intended for me to use your new cooking utensils. Do you have a list of what you brought so I may know what to supplement?”

“Uhh, no. Sorry, Igs. But don’t worry about it. I got everything. Got the whole line of cooking stuff.”

Noct shook his head. “You’ve only been camping once. Why’d you get all that stuff?”

“When am I supposed to find the time to get to the outskirts? Just cause the forest ain’t big doesn’t mean it wasn’t fuckin’ awesome. You bet I’m gonna try my damnedest to do it again.”

“I dunno. We’ll see how it is once we get out there. Maybe we’ll extend the trip,” Noct said.

“I can’t imagine what it’ll be like out there,” Prompto gushed. “The whole world . . . so much bigger than Insomnia.”

“Yes, I am most eager myself to discover all that lies beyond the Wall,” Iggy said. “Have you finished with the bedroom and bathroom, Prompto?”

“Yeah, got it all done before I came out here. It’s just this room that’s left.”

“And we’re almost done in here too,” Gladio said, putting another box on the stack.

“Finally! I never realized how big this place is,” Prompto said as he flopped back down on the couch. Noct tossed the rest of the books in his box and leapt onto the other section, leaning his head into the armrest.

“And this is the last you’ll see of it. When we return, Noct will begin his new life,” Iggy said.

“It hasn’t hit me at all. I’m sure it’ll all work out, though,” Noct said, shrugging a shoulder. Luna was a great girl, one of his best friends, but he still couldn’t see himself married to her any more than he saw himself becoming King. Besides, as soon as they got married, she was gonna go off on her Oracle duties anyway. It wasn’t like she was gonna be around that much.

“You haven’t thought about it, have you?” Gladio said.

“Give me a little more credit than that. Still, thinking about it’s not gonna change much, is it?” Apparently, his entire life had been decided since the day he was born, or whenever it was he’d been picked to be the Chosen. He’d learned long ago there was no point worrying about it. Stuff was gonna happen whether he liked it or not.

“First things first: completing our journey,” Iggy said, changing the topic, and Noct smiled a little. Specs might’ve been annoying, but he did seem to try to make him happy whenever he got down.

“I can’t believe it’s tomorrow already. I’m so excited! Did you study up ‘bout the outside?” Prompto asked Iggy.

He shook his head. “Briefly. I hadn’t time to dedicate myself thoroughly to the task. I intend to return the foraging book to the library tonight before stopping by the bookstore to pick up a copy to keep as a reference.”

“There’re all kinds of wild animals on the outside, right? Think they’ll just walk on up to us?” Prompto asked, and Noct had to shake his head as he smiled. Prompto and his obsession with animals . . . but still, it’d be pretty cool to see some real live animals roaming around out in the wild. Maybe Iggy would loosen up enough to let them do a hunt or two.

“Dunno. All I heard is that it’s different than Insomnia—least that’s what my old man says,” Gladio said with a shrug.

“The culture is similar to that of Insomnia thirty years ago. Like a sprawling landscape from an old photograph,” Ignis said.

Noct yawned and stopped listening to the conversation. Sprawling landscapes . . . he’d be happy just to get out of this city and maybe see the open sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue for this chapter was taken directly from Prologue Parting Ways.


	3. Chapter 3

They had managed to make it an hour outside the city, nearly to the first point of civilization, when the Regalia’s motor seemed to choke on her own breath before giving a spluttering exhale.

“This doesn’t bode well,” Ignis said, frowning as he used the car’s momentum to pull off to the side of the road.

The five of them sat in silence for a few moments as the sweltering heat beat down on the tops of their heads. For all the expertise on sword and gunplay sitting in the car, none of them knew anything about fixing anything that could be wrong with the Regalia. Ignis knew that Prompto had some experience in repairing and working with machinery, but he hardly knew enough to fix something as complex as a vehicle. Sighing, he pulled out his mobile and scrolled through his contacts list to find Hammerhead’s number.

Drat, a busy signal.

And of course, there was no sense in attempting anyone in Insomnia. They’d been warned on departing that their ability to contact anyone in the city would grow spotty just outside the Wall due to the magical interference, with communication becoming nearly impossible the farther they drove.

“I can try to take a look and see if there’s something I can fix, but if the car needs any parts, there’s nothing I can do,” Laura said as she gestured for Prompto to open the door so she could get out. “Ignis, would you mind popping the hood, please?”

“Certainly,” he said, looking down to find the release.

“Prompto, you said you were good with machines, right? Would you like to help?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure!” Prompto said, but Ignis could tell by the tone of his voice he would rather stay in the back seat.

Ignis couldn’t blame him; it was scorching out, and even with the top down, it was hotter on the pavement in front of the steamy engine than inside the car. In their eagerness to be out on the open road, they’d probably gotten carried away as they took turns driving and pushed the car past what she could handle in this weather.

“You sure you know about cars?” Gladio added.

Ignis couldn’t blame Gladio for his attitude either. In the five hours they’d had to make small talk as they crawled through the heavy traffic of Insomnia and out into Leide, he realized that the girl knew very little about . . . well, anything, really, so it came as a surprise that she seemed so confident looking at the Regalia’s engine.

“Well, I’m no mechanic, but you can have Prompto watch me to make sure I don’t take a hammer to the thing,” Laura replied lightly before sliding out and heading toward the front of the car.

“Thanks, Prompto,” Noct grunted.

Once she had raised the hood, Gladio turned to look between Ignis in the driver’s seat and Noct in the back seat, muttering low enough so he couldn’t be overheard, “It’s not just me, right?”

“No way. She’s _awful_ ,” Noct replied. “At least you don’t have to sit next to her.”

“Yeah well, no way three of us coulda fit back there if I was one of ‘em. You’re stuck with her unless you can convince Prompto to take the middle.”

Ignis couldn’t understand why they were being so unfair to the newest member of their retinue. As far as he was concerned, the girl had been perfectly pleasant, if a bit sheltered, cheerfully asking each of them about their lives and their roles in the group. He was about to inform them that they ought to try being more patient with the girl’s inexperience when the hood slammed shut.

“Sorry guys,” Laura said. “Looks like your radiator’s been cracked for a while now, and it’s damaged the water pump. And in this heat . . . she’s not likely to start back up again. We’re going to have to push her to Hammerhead, I’m afraid, unless one of you happens to know the phone number.”

“I’ve been attempting to call, but all I’m getting is a busy signal,” Ignis replied.

“Well, then!” she said cheerfully as she walked around to the trunk of the car. “We might as well get moving.”

“Guess we can take turns who gets to sit and steer,” Gladio said, heaving himself out of his seat and bracing himself against the door and mirror. “Come on, Your Highness, get out and push.”

As Noct braced himself against the back door, Prompto moved next to Ignis. “Guess you can go first, Iggy,” Prompto said.

Ignis furrowed his brow in dissatisfaction. Though he had only managed to catch an hour or so of sleep the night before, and his enervated body was grateful for the comfort of the luxurious seat, this was still wrong. He was loath to force a lady to push a heavy vehicle across the desert while he sat, not exactly comfortable in the blazing sun, but certainly more so than those out pushing. And Laura wasn’t just any lady, she was a fair-skinned noblewoman. Though she was clearly expertly trained in combat arts much like themselves, he doubted she had much experience exerting herself physically in this oppressive heat.

The others had just begun pushing when Ignis turned to face toward the back of the car and said, “I’m afraid I must insist that Laura be the one to sit in the driver’s seat. The Regalia is quite heavy, and combined with the heat and your diminutive size, Laura, forgive me, but you’re at a considerable disadvantage compared to the rest of us.”

Instead of the sigh of appreciation he was expecting, he was surprised to see the fire spark in her sapphire eyes.

“Not bloody likely!” she exclaimed, but she seemed to realize that her reaction had been hasty, as her voice immediately softened. “I appreciate your chivalry, but let’s get something straight right now: I don’t want any special treatment. I intend to earn my keep around here. If I have a problem with something, I’ll let you know.”

“Just keep moving. Faster we push this thing, faster we can get outta the heat,” Gladio grunted as he threw his weight into the frame.

After about fifteen minutes of groaning and grumbling complaints muttered in low voices, Noct decided that fifteen minutes would be the switching interval.

“Oooh, my turn!” Prompto said, opening the car door and letting Ignis out.

He decided to join Laura by the back of the car, both because he wished to show his support of her joining their party and because the car was much more efficient to push from this angle. It seemed odd to Ignis that the others wished to avoid her so completely that they should be willing to make their work more difficult just so as to not have to be near her. As he placed his gloved hands against the hot metal, she gave him a small smile before leaning all her weight into the trunk and walking forward.

Between her eyes and her smile, there was something about her that struck a chord with him. She was almost painfully familiar, and he wondered at his own reaction to her. This was too visceral a reaction for a chance glimpse in a library; it was personal in a way that sent a chill down his back. He tried yet again to recall where he might have seen her face before and couldn’t attain any new insights.

“I think we can forget about hitching our way there,” Gladio grumbled as he tried to flag down yet another car that passed by without slowing, and Noct let Prompto out of the driver’s seat to take his turn to steer. “Thought people were friendly outside the city.”

“You can only go so far on the kindness of strangers,” Ignis replied.

“Come now, be fair. Who’s going to pull over for five people dressed mostly in Crownsguard uniform in the outlands? From what I heard, the decision to annex wasn’t exactly a popular one,” Laura said, and Noct muttered an incoherent reply.

So she wasn’t completely clueless after all. Her assessment of the current situation in the outlands was succinct and accurate, despite the information not exactly being well-known in the upper echelons of Lucian nobility. Ignis himself was only aware of the people’s attitude regarding the treaty because he had sat in on a briefing just yesterday for the Prince that had implied a somewhat disgruntled attitude on behalf of the Kingsglaive, though he wasn’t certain the entire council had left that meeting with that impression. She must have spoken to His Majesty on the matter before leaving.

“Besides, Gladio, as charming as your smile is, you look like you can crush a grown man’s skull between your thumbs,” she said with a smile.

“That just means we’re gonna have to push her all the way,” Gladio said, ignoring her.

“It’s probably for the best, given the extent of the repairs needed,” Ignis said. As much as he wished he didn’t have to be the bearer of bad news, he had to inform them that his precaution of bringing outlander money had backfired somewhat with these new circumstances, but it was best to bring up these problems as soon as they came along. “We’ll likely run into some funding issues and not be able afford a tow truck, I'm afraid. I do hope we can find work in Hammerhead to bolster our funds.”

“I saw on the map that the center of Hammerhead is the garage and a diner. We should talk to the proprietor at the diner. Places like that, they talk to everyone that passes through, and I bet they know everything about the area, including where to make some money,” Laura said.

“I highly doubt the proprietor of an establishment of that nature will know too much about the kinds of information we’re seeking,” Ignis sniffed. “There must be some sort of employment agency in the area we could visit.”

“I suppose . . .,” Laura said quietly.

He frowned a little at her subdued tone—he supposed he could have handled that more gracefully. Though he himself was new to the world outside the city, Laura seemed to be new to life in general. Their five hours spent in the car revealed that she knew nothing of television references, video games, books, music, or movies—even common, everyday foods. Given the way she fought, Ignis assumed she must have grown up in a noble household with nothing more than a combat trainer—and perhaps a mechanic. Typically, he had little patience for people such as she, as anyone who displayed such extensive evidence of ignorance wasn’t worth his personal time—though he was always courteous—but her skill in combat, at the very least, denoted an exceptional dedication, desire to be of use, and some level of intelligence. He could hardly demean her for her lack of experience if her ignorance was due to circumstances beyond her control. He would have to apologize for his discourtesy in private once they reached the employment center, and perhaps he could find an excuse to get to know her better as a guide, of sorts, to this new, wider world of theirs.

Though the others griped about their sore feet, the oppressive heat, and how much farther they had to push the rolling brick across the scorching asphalt, Laura didn’t utter a single complaint as she helped them, not even when Gladio had mistakenly skipped her turn to sit in the front seat. Ignis looked over at her, ready to chastise Gladio on her behalf for his rudeness if she was too polite to do so, but she shook her head and went back to pushing without another word. Still, she smiled at their jokes and smirked down at Prompto when he melodramatically collapsed on the asphalt.

“You know, you’re pretty much just lying down on a frying pan right now, right?” she asked with an amused smile. “Both you and Noctis.”

“Just flip me over when I smell like I’m getting burnt,” he replied with a sigh.

Once Gladio had gotten Noct and Prompto off the asphalt and they were underway again. Ignis settled back into the driver’s seat, leaning heavily against the steering wheel. Astrals, he was so exhausted. But they needed him to steer now, so he sat up as straight as he could, hoping the tension in his back would keep him awake.

“Is it just me, or was it supposed to be way closer?” Prompt whined.

“I assure you, the map is correct,” Ignis replied in a dry tone.

“The map said Hammerhead was right there,” Noct argued.

“Literally next door!” Prompto agreed.

“Looks that way, on a map of the world,” Gladio said.

“The world’s a big old place,” Noct said, his voice growing soft. Ignis turned to look at the Prince, who was looking to the mountains on the horizon with a bright, dreamy look in his eyes that Ignis hadn’t seen since they were children. He followed Noct’s gaze and took a moment to appreciate how free he felt now that they had left the city walls behind. For the first time in his life, the horizon ahead of him was completely clear for miles, and though the current situation was rather unfortunate, the fact that there wasn’t another soul nearby felt . . . somewhat peaceful.

As he looked back in the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of Laura, her faced flushed and sweating, her hair falling out of its clip and sticking to her skin, Ignis added, “Filled with wonders.”

***

After they had spoken with Cid and Cindy regarding the repairs, which would deplete the meager amount of gil Ignis had brought along for the stay in Galdin and any emergency purchases they may have needed to make, Cid dismissed them with a “You boys take her in and run along.” Ignis frowned over at Laura, who seemed to take no notice at not being acknowledged.

When they asked Cindy what they could do for money, she attempted to give them back some of their funds, with the provision that they wouldn’t inform Cid, but Ignis couldn’t abide by charity, particularly as representatives to the Crown. He encouraged Noct to instead ask what they could do to earn money, at which point, she gave them a few errands to run in the area. Satisfied that they at least had the means for becoming solvent, the others headed toward the diner to cool off.

But Ignis stopped when he spotted Laura standing by the fuel pump, watching a little girl wail unrestrainedly next to a car parked in one of the spaces by the road. The girl’s mother, or so Ignis presumed her to be, was slamming the hood of her car down, hitting both her fists against the hot metal in frustration. Ignis had to admit he felt her pain quite keenly, having experienced a similar episode without a howling child by his side earlier this morning—that was, unless one counted Gladio, Noct, and Prompto.

It seemed the mother had reached the end of her tether, because she turned to snap at the little girl, “There’s no point crying about it; there’s nothing we can do!”

As Laura narrowed her eyes at the woman and began striding in the pair’s direction, Ignis grew concerned and hissed, “What are you going to do?” but she ignored him. While he himself didn’t care for the way the woman was handling the situation, it wasn’t their business if a woman chastised her daughter, and he didn’t see how causing a scene and drawing attention to themselves was going to benefit anyone. He shot a look over at Gladio standing next to the door of the diner, who held his hands up in surrender and went inside. _That_ was an enormous help.

“Hi there!” she said with a wide smile and a wiggle of her fingers as she kneeled down to the weeping child’s level. “M’ name’s Laura. What’s yours?” She said this in an awed tone that made it sound like the most exciting secret in the world, and Ignis noticed that the girl had already stopped crying to look at the strange woman.

“Cami,” the girl sniffed.

“Why’re ya so sad, Cami?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Daddy’s coming in from assignment tonight, but our car’s broken and they’re too busy to fix it. He’s gonna be gone again by the time we get home,” she said, tears still leaking quietly from her eyes.

It was likely their fault that Cindy would be unable to look at the mother’s car today, even if the woman and the girl had arrived before them. Ignis had a feeling that, despite Cid’s irreverent attitude towards royalty, the Regalia had been moved to the front of the queue, no doubt overbooking the garage even more.

“M’ so sorry to ‘ear that, dear. What’s your daddy do?”

“He’s in the Kingsglaive, like you. Do you know my daddy?”

Ahh, the girl’s father was likely involved in searching Taelpar Crag for evidence of imperial forces that had been rumored to be hiding out in the area. Ignis had sat in on the briefing himself only two days ago when they received word that their forces would be returning today before heading to Insomnia for the treaty signing.

Laura’s eyes seemed to widen in horror for a moment, but then she shook her head. “Sorry. M’ really new to the Kingsglaive. Jus’ star’ed today.” She looked over at the girl’s mother, who was standing with her head down, pinching the bridge of her nose, and Laura’s expression morphed to pity and heartache before turning back to the girl. “Lemme talk to your mum, ‘kay? See if there’s anythin’ I can do to ‘elp.”

“Okay.”

She stood and put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Hey,” she said softly, and the woman’s head shot up. She stared at Laura, no doubt taking in her Kingsglaive uniform, before casting a quick glance in Ignis’s direction. Wishing to make a good impression, he bowed his head in greeting before she turned back to Laura.

“Cami’s been tellin’ me bout your car trouble. D’ya mind if I take a look? M’ no Cindy by a long shot, but I know a coupla things bout cars.”

The woman closed her eyes and shook her head. “I mean, you can’t make it any worse than it is, right?”

“That’s the spirit!” she said, grinning madly. “Name’s Laura. You?”

“Shawna.”

“All right, Shawna, ya mind poppin’ the ‘ood and startin’ the car so I can listen?”

“Yeah, all right.”

Concluding that she wasn’t there to cause a scene, Ignis approached Laura, who had already opened the hood and was bending over to inspect the engine.

“Do you truly know what you’re doing? It’s one thing to look at the Regalia, but we can’t afford this woman’s repairs should you break something,” he said in a low voice so the woman wouldn’t overhear.

She turned her head to glare at him, then wiped her brow with the back of her hand before looking down at the engine. “Go ahead and start her,” she called out, apparently choosing to ignore him. She cocked her head to listen and closed her eyes as the engine attempted to fire to life and failed.

“Hmmm,” she said to herself before reaching down to one of four small cylinders and pulling it free from the engine.

“I certainly hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Hey Shawna,” she said, looking up at the woman, who had just come to stand next to them in front of the car, “if ya go into th’ shop there an’ ask the proprietor for four spark plugs for your car’s model, I can get ya on the road in bout ‘alf an hour, maybe less.”

The woman’s expression transformed immediately at her words, her haggard face giving way to a bright smile. “Really? Oh! Thank the gods! Thank you!” she exclaimed before rushing to the shop, leaving the girl standing next to Laura in front of the car.

Ignis frowned after the woman. Customs certainly must have been different here outside the city, as he couldn’t imagine anyone leaving such a young girl behind with two strangers without so much as even asking.

“That was irresponsible of her; we could be anyone. What if we intended to abscond with her child?”

It was only when Laura began speaking to him that he noticed the dramatic change in her accent, transforming from the more common way of speaking in some of the immigrant districts to a more formal diction. He wondered whether the choice was deliberate or subconscious, given the speed of the switch, but he decided that of what he’d deduced of her upbringing, the choice was likely deliberate in an attempt to blend in better with the implication of lower origins, even if they weren’t native to this area.

“Give her a break. She thought she was going to miss out on her only night with the father of her child.” Her voice grew wistful as she shook her head. “Can you imagine for a moment what it would be like to not be there the one day your love is back, not knowing for absolute certain that they’ll ever return? And her husband is Kingsglaive, so of course she’s going to trust anyone in a Glaive uniform. You should know yourself that groups like Kingsglaive and Crownsguard are family. They look out for their own.”

When she turned to the girl, her eyes suddenly glittering with euphoria, that unnerving sense of déjà vu washed over him again, and he wondered what he would have to do to earn that look from her—merely to jog his memory. Ignis never forgot a face; remembering every detail of every nobleman and noblewoman in court was a vital part of his job, and it was irritating him that he couldn’t place her.

“Cami! Guess what?” she breathed, her voice suffused with awe. “You’re gonna make it ‘ome to see your daddy!”

“Really?” she screamed, and Ignis had to step back as the girl rushed forward to cling to her leg.

Laura reached down to hug her before looking up at Ignis. “I won’t be needing your assistance. You’re free to join the others in the diner if you wish. Rest. Cool off. You look exhausted.”

Recognizing a dismissal when he saw one, he bowed his head slightly. “Of course.”

As he stepped over the threshold of the refreshingly air-conditioned diner and slid into the booth seat next to Noct, Noct said, “That was the most painful couple of hours I’ve spent with someone. I was almost glad to get out of the car just so I wouldn’t have to be so close to her.”

“Yeah, what the hell was up with that? Felt like I wanted to jump outta the car and run away as fast as I could . . . or run a blade through her,” Gladio agreed, nodding, and Ignis’s eyes widened at his words. Gladio was the sort to often threaten someone in jest, but his furrowed brow and frown indicated he was being completely serious, which was completely out of character for him.

“I don’t like her. I say first chance we get, we ditch her. Not like Dad can do anything from the other side of the ocean. She can go back to the Citadel and marry him, or whatever.”

“I dunno,” Prompto said with a grimace. “Maybe it’s not her fault.”

“Seriously? It’s not just the pain, it’s her too. I can maybe forgive her for not knowing King’s Knight, but when she asked what an alstroom was, that was the end of the conversation for me,” Noct shot back.

Shocked and horrified by the unconventional behavior of the group, Ignis wondered what on Eos this girl could possibly have done to warrant such harsh words. He hadn’t spent too much time with Prompto in the past, but he seemed to be an amiable sort, almost overly eager to make friends with anyone that would treat him kindly. Gladio, in addition to never having expressed a true desire to murder anyone, was friendly with people from all walks of life back in the city. And while Noct was often slow to warm up to new people, he’d never displayed such a blatant dislike for anyone without provocation.

“This is hardly appropriate conversation,” Ignis interrupted as Gladio opened his mouth to add to Noct’s argument.

“Where’d she go, anyway?” Noct asked, glancing out the window.

“She’s assisting a woman and her daughter with their broken-down vehicle.”

Turning back to look at him, Noct asked, “So what do you think of her, Specs?”

He hesitated, determined to give a more diplomatic response than the others had. After all, he knew that his opinion, despite his lower status, still carried heavy weight with the Prince. “While I agree she is an odd creature, she hardly warrants such a drastic response. I should be most displeased if you left her behind. After all, your father likely ordered her along with us for a reason, even if he chose not to disclose it.”

Noct rolled his eyes and collapsed on the table. “Fine, but I’m driving then. You can be the one to sit next to her when we leave for Galdin.”

“Elbows off the table, if you please, Highness,” Ignis said quietly.

“Aww, man. That means I don’t got a choice!” Prompto whined. “And I’m hungry! Can’t we get somethin’ to eat?”

“Not until we complete Cindy’s task or stop at a haven,” Ignis replied. “We’ve run out of local currency, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, we need to figure out how we’re gonna get funds around here,” Gladio said. “There’s gotta be something four guys can do to earn some gil.”

“And a woman,” Ignis said, frowning at him.

Laura stepped in front of their table at that moment, her face flushed and covered in greasy smears. “I’ll talk to the proprietor—just as soon as I get cleaned up. Perhaps he’ll know where the employment agency is.”

“You’ve finished already?” Ignis asked, flushing at the possibility that she had overheard their abhorrent conversation.

“Yes, it didn’t take as long as I expected. Shawna and Cami are on their way home. Aren’t you the one in charge of the finances?”

“I am, normally, but we don’t currently have any finances for me to be in charge of.”

Slapping a neat stack of bills on the table, she said, “We do now—three hundred gil. I have no idea if that’s a lot or not, but I wasn’t about to demand a price. They’re trying to save up to buy a house, and Shawna just found out she’s pregnant.”

“Whoo! That’s enough to buy us something for lunch!” Prompto said, frantically pointing at the menu.

“Great! You guys go ahead and order; I’m going to get cleaned up.”

“What would you like us to order for you?” Ignis asked.

She glanced at the menu board and frowned. “I’ll . . . just have some water, thanks,” she said with a slight smile before turning toward the restrooms, and Ignis frowned after her. The menu was hardly the sort of fare Ignis preferred customarily, but it seemed to be the type of cuisine common to these sorts of places. Though Noct often complained about Ignis’s healthy eating habits, he wasn’t above eating cheap junk food now and then—as long as it was in moderation—a concept that seemed beyond the Prince. Not every meal had to be a sophisticated, five-star experience, either; he was more than capable of adapting and even enjoying a wide variety of culinary experiences. But it seemed that much like the Prince, Laura was going to have to adopt a more flexible palate if she was going to survive the different regions they would be traveling through.

“I wanna try the Hammerhead Hot Sandwich,” Noct said, pointing at the menu, and the others nodded in agreement.

After Ignis had ordered for the four of them at the counter, Laura emerged from the restroom, her face clear of engine grease. Instead of sitting down with them, however, she headed toward the proprietor and leapt up onto a stool on her knees, leaning far over the counter. As the others chatted about the heat and how different the scenery was from the city, Ignis watched Laura call the proprietor over, and her face lit up with that smile she only seemed to reserve for complete strangers. Had they really offended her so much that she wouldn’t look at any of them like that? Perhaps she had overheard the Prince complaining in the car or talking about leaving her behind, and not just Gladio’s final remarks.

Gods, how disgraceful a first impression could they have possibly made?

An employee stopped by the table to drop off their drinks, and after flicking the tab open and taking a measured sip, he cupped the hot can of Ebony with both hands. Despite the morning spent in the heat, he was beginning to feel a bit chilled as the air conditioning dried off his sweaty shirt. He imagined the sunburn forming on the back of his neck was doing little to help the matter and decided he would need to reapply more sunscreen in the restroom before they left. Turning back to watching the proprietor and Laura interact, he took a longer draught of the hot, bitter fluid, letting it warm him from within and shock his system awake.

Laura and the proprietor spoke for about a few minutes before she smiled at the man again and headed toward their booth. Since Gladio had moved to the edge of the bench, Ignis moved closer to Noct to make her feel more welcome to sit down as he cast a displeased glare in Gladio’s direction. Honestly, this was going to be a rather long journey if they weren’t willing to even make an attempt at friendliness.

Instead of sitting down, however, she stood at the end of the table and said, “Turns out Takka is the head guy in charge if you want to know about things around here. He said he had plenty of assignments for us if you want to take them. Sorry, I asked about an employment center, but he said there wasn’t one.”

Ignis’s narrowed his eyes at her, scrutinizing her face. Try as he might, he could discern no trace of smug satisfaction in her expression; it was completely smooth and pleasant, and he felt another stirring of remorse at having dismissed her so readily. He really must find the time to apologize to her in private—and to thank her for not calling him out publicly for his boorishness.

“Very well,” he said, standing. “I’ll see what he has for us, then.”

It turned out that the man had three hunts available appropriate to their combat skill, totaling over three thousand gil in bounties. Coupled with their task from Cindy, they should be in a much more fortunate position within a couple of days. Though none of them had actually seen a wild animal up close before, Ignis was confident that they should have no trouble handling these assignments with their extensive training. It would be beneficial, he thought, to get some real combat experience in before Noct’s destiny came calling.

The proprietor was also helpful in pointing out the locations of havens and foraging points in the area. Ignis decided it would be most prudent to head to the haven just to the north directly after lunch, set up camp, perhaps do some foraging, and they would be in a prime location to begin their hunts the next day. He was about to thank the man for his very welcomed help when Laura sidled up next to him.

“Hey, Takka,” she said. “D’ ya ‘appen to ‘ave a rag I could borrow? My friend over there ‘ad an accident wiv the ketchup, an’ I didn’t wanna leave a big mess for ya.” She gestured with her head back to the booth, where Ignis could see Gladio gesticulating angrily at Prompto while Prompto looked down at the table, which was somehow completely covered in ketchup spatters. How had that happened? Their food hadn’t even arrived yet.

“Yeah, sure,” Takka said as he reached under the counter and tossed her a rag.

“Cheers,” she said with a smile as she held it up in mock toast.

She was about to turn back to the booth when the man stopped her. “Hey, Laura. I was thinkin’. You happen to have any of that levain on you that you were talkin’ about? Been meanin’ to beef up my sandwiches a bit. Homemade bread might be the trick.”

This time when she smiled widely at the man, her tongue poked out to touch the top row of her teeth, and Ignis thought the effect looked . . . odd on her aristocratic features. “Yeah, keep some outside in the car. I’ll bring it in before we leave. If ya got flour, we can feed it after I split it, an’ I can give ya what I spoon off. You can start your own culture from it.”

Ignis assumed ‘outside in the car’ was code for ‘in the armiger,’ as they had all agreed to not exactly keep their identities a secret, but certainly not draw undue attention to themselves. But since levain was one of the many odd items that couldn’t be kept in their armiger, he wasn’t so certain. He didn’t recall seeing or smelling a jar of levain anywhere in the car, so perhaps she kept it in the same place she had pulled her weapons from yesterday in the throne room.

“Thanks!” he said. “Don’t forget to bring that rag back. They keep walkin’ off on me.”

“Will do.” She waved and turned to head back to the booth.

Ignis ordered another can of Ebony, thanked Takka for his help, and followed her. She was leaning over the table and wiping it down when he slid into his seat. Had she even sat down yet?

“Absolutely hopeless,” Gladio muttered under his breath.

“I’m really sorry you guys,” Prompto said quietly, his eyes still downcast.

Laura folded the rag over so she could continue wiping with a clean side. “Honestly, Prompto, it’s no big deal. It didn’t get on anyone’s clothes, so Ignis doesn’t have to do any extra work tonight. No harm done.”

“So, Specs, what’s on the agenda?” Noct asked as the waitress set their orders down in front of each of them.

As Ignis proposed his plan, Laura finished wiping the table and headed back to the counter to return the rag.

“Aww, man. Camping? I was kinda hoping we could stay in the camper tonight,” Prompto complained, and Noct nodded in agreement.

“Please sit up and chew with your mouth closed, Highness,” Ignis sighed wearily. There was absolutely no excuse to allow the Prince’s decorum to slip simply because they were stranded in the outlands for a couple of days. Ignis could only imagine the state of his manners at the wedding if such a thing were to happen. Doubtless, the papers would report Lady Lunafreya’s marriage to an unkempt vagrant if they managed to stay out here too long and ignored his slipping etiquette.

“Ugh, will you just relax already?” Noct muttered under his breath as he sat up.

“You got a problem with camping now?” Gladio asked Prompto in challenge.

“I mean, camping sounds fun and all, but after the day we’ve had, I kinda wanted some soft beds, a real shower.”

“With our money situation being what it is, it isn’t prudent to spend funds on accommodations when there are free options available,” Ignis said.

The rest of their meal was spent in silence, and they were almost finished when he noticed that Laura had _still_ not sat down. His gaze roamed over the diner until he caught a flash of her black hair behind the counter, where she appeared to be spooning a jar of what he assumed to be levain into another jar.

“What the hell is she doing back there?” Noct asked, noticing where Ignis’s attention had been drawn.

“I believe she promised the proprietor some of her levain. It’s used for making sourdough breads,” he added, knowing they would have no idea what levain was. It was quite impressive that Laura traveled with her own. She must have been an avid baker, which was odd, given the lack of knowledge of culinary arts she had shown thus far. Making good sourdough bread was a precise and difficult art, and it was hardly a practice of high nobility to make their own breads, given that most households kept their own bakers on retainer. The more he learned about her, the less this girl seemed to make sense.

“Seems to make friends pretty fast,” Gladio noted, “if she’s gotten behind the counter already.”

“Wonder why no one else seems to feel how we do about her,” Noct added.

As Laura waved Takka away from the counter, pulled a pitcher of water from the shelf behind her, and poured it for a customer sitting at a stool, Ignis thought it likely that the others’ dislike was because she had been forced upon them, and they were being puerile. However, he thought it wise that he hold his tongue, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on the armiger: I doubt the guys ran around with all that gear strapped to their backs in invisible backpacks. So I guess my rule is that anything they have on them in game or supplemental material can be put in the armiger, while anything else can’t. The armiger is different than Noct’s Royal Armiger.
> 
> Also, I realize Prompto was driving when the car broke down, but having Ignis as the one driving saved me a couple hundred words of useless exposition, which I'll sometimes do if it doesn't impact the story.


	4. Chapter 4

Noct leaned back into his camp chair and stared at their newest group member, who was helping Iggy set up the cooking equipment in what Specs had deemed ‘the perfect area of the haven’ for his culinary creations, not that Noct could really tell the difference. Laura seemed friendly enough—definitely weird—but the main problem was that every time she got close to him, he got this sense of wrongness that made him want to kill her, quickly and violently. It was a disturbing reaction for him, as he’d never _wanted_ to actually kill anything in his life. The feeling would’ve definitely been freaking him out, but it wasn’t just him, either; Gladio and Prompto had said the same thing back at the diner. He was pretty sure Iggy was just being polite about the whole thing, but Noct bet he felt it too. No doubt ‘Mr. Perfect’ just didn’t wanna admit he was feeling murderous for no apparent reason.

What could his dad have been thinking, sending her along with them? He guessed that sword fight in the gown had something to do with it, but he had trouble believing that the mysterious girl who beat Cor the Immortal and this air-headed aristocrat were the same person. Only Iggy’s word made him think otherwise.

He studied her clothes. At least she wasn’t wearing a gown now. She was dressed just like some of the other Glaives he’d seen around his apartment complex yesterday, with thigh-high combat boots, a form-fitting fatigue suit, and a short, high-collared jacket. Her long hair was clipped into a loose twist behind her head with a couple of tendrils falling around her face. The only personal item he could see was [a necklace](https://i.imgur.com/JJq5ODJ.jpg?1)—a blue crystal disc that matched her eyes, covered by a silver tree and hanging from a chain of silver links. He had no idea where she was keeping her weapons. She’d implied that his dad had given her access to the Crystal’s powers on the drive out of the city, but she hadn’t placed anything into their armiger yet, as far as he knew.

“Noctis?” She turned to him, and he quickly looked away and back at her so it didn’t seem too obvious he’d been staring. “I . . .,” and she hesitated a moment, biting her bottom lip before raising her head high and continuing in a stronger voice. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you all in tomorrow’s hunt—or any hunt, for that matter.”

Gladio and Prompto stopped what they were doing to stare openly at her with matching furrowed brows. Specs kept up the appearance of setting up the camp stove, but Noct noticed that his movements had slowed to not make a sound.

“Why not?” Noct asked.

She took a deep breath before replying, “I’ll protect you when your life is in danger, and I’ll fight daemons with you, but I will not, cannot hunt down animals.”

“Even if they’re threatening people’s lives and stuff?” Prompto asked.

She turned to Prompto. “It’s complicated. Call it a personal philosophy. I won’t stop any of you from doing your own hunts; I’m not the sort to inflict my beliefs on others, but I’m telling you now that I cannot help you in this.”

“Hmm. Not much use to us then, are you?” Gladio grunted, narrowing his eyes at her.

“I’ll do all I can within those bounds, but not in this, no. I must offer my apologies; the King didn’t quite prepare me for all that we’d be doing on this trip.” She glanced around the campsite subtly, but even Noct could tell that possibly camping had been included in the things his dad hadn’t told her. He had to say he wasn’t all that surprised, as his dad was always close-lipped about _everything_.

“Fine,” Noct shrugged. “We have enough in the group to handle the hunts anyway.” It’d probably be best if she stayed behind so he could get a break from her.

Gladio let out a final grunt of disapproval before turning away toward the haven ramp, probably to collect more firewood—even though it didn’t look like they needed any more than they had already. Noct exchanged a look with Prompto, who shrugged before ducking under the tent flap to set up the sleeping bags.

“Noct, as long as you’re . . . resting, you may as well take the opportunity to use the energy deposits you collected and put together some elemental spells,” Iggy said as he unrolled his utensil pack. “They may prove useful for tomorrow.”

Noct sighed. Iggy had been on his ass all morning for the stupidest stuff—his language, his posture, his eating habits, even the way he’d been walking as they hiked out to the haven. He didn’t get it—they’d left the city behind, and hardly anyone knew he was the Prince. He thought the guy’d lighten up for a change now that the whole world wasn’t watching, but instead, he seemed to have only gotten worse.

“I dunno why we bother with those. They do as much damage to us as they do to what we’re attacking,” Prompto complained from inside the tent.

Noct secretly agreed. The last training session they’d had as a group, Noct had electrocuted the entire party with a stray thunder spell, and Iggy had used every opportunity he could for the next two days to use the word "shocking" in a conversation just to piss him off.

“Because they’re a good resource to have in case we need them,” Iggy said exasperatedly.

“I’m trying to make ‘em less unpredictable, but it’s hard,” Noct said, pulling out a flask and cupping it in his hands.

“I have a lot of experience with elemental magic,” Laura said from the camp stove, “though not the kind that you use. Do you mind if I feel you make one? I may be able to help make your spells less erratic.”

Feel him make one? What the hell was that supposed to mean? And how could anyone use elemental magic that wasn’t from the Crystal? Whatever she was offering, he definitely didn’t want any part of it. “Uhh, thanks, but I think I learned all I could from Iggy.”

“Oh. All right then. I’m going to go help Gladio collect firewood. I’ll be back in a few minutes to go foraging, Ignis,” she said, pointing her thumb in the direction Gladio had walked off in.

Iggy’s head snapped up in Noct’s direction, frowning at him as she turned, and he strode over to Noct’s chair to lean in close.

“Highness, if her magical prowess equals one-half her skills with a blade, it would behoove you to take her up on her offer,” he said in a low, rushed voice. “Please, call her back.” Before Noct could respond or refuse, Iggy straightened and walked quickly back to his kitchen station.

Gods damn it, Noct didn’t want her any closer to him than she had to be; he didn’t really wanna be working on this crap at all. It’d been a long, hot, miserable day, and he was ready to kick back a little and enjoy the freedom of being away from the city and everything that made him the Prince.

Rolling his eyes at Iggy’s back, he said, “Actually, Laura, could you come back? Maybe I could use your advice.”

Her smile was bright when she turned around, and for a second, Noct could kinda see why the people in Hammerhead liked her so much. But as she came closer, that crawling feeling crept up on him again, and his moment of thinking that way disappeared as though it’d never existed.

She kneeled in front of his chair and put her hands on either side of his, leaving a few centimeters of space between them before pausing, and the prickling stabbing needles traveling up through his fingers into his forearms was already making him want to summon a sword and jam it through her heart. What the hell _was_ that?

“I’m just going to put my hands on yours. This is going to feel . . . odd. I’m sorry. May I?”

Did that mean she was aware of how she made him feel, or was this gonna be some new terrible feeling? He tried not to clench his jaw at her as he nodded. At least she’d asked permission first, he guessed.

As she brought her hands to his, he couldn’t help but shudder; this was more than weirdness, more than needles. This was burning pain. It was bearable though, so he schooled his features and forced himself to look at her. But Six, that bloodlust he’d never felt in his entire life was rising inside him, practically begging him to end her life as quickly as possible.

Her brow pulled down in concern. “Is this okay?” she asked, and feeling a little more under control at the sound of her soft voice, he nodded. “Then go ahead and do the spell. I’ll just feel you this time and assist the next time, okay?”

Closing his eyes and focusing on the elements swirling in his body, he concentrated on bringing the fire energy to his fingertips and pushing it into the glass.

“I see what the problem is,” she said softly, her eyes closed. The pain in his hands disappeared the moment she removed hers, but the weird feeling and the desire to reach out and snap her neck remained. He squirmed a little in his seat against the feeling, and she seemed to notice, leaning back a little. “You have to become familiar with the energy you’re using on a personal level. With each spell you craft, you need to leave a piece of your energy within it so that it _knows_ you and your allies when it’s released again.”

Noct unclenched his jaw and said, “That’s not something I was taught. You talk like the elements are living things.”

“In a way, they are. Try again. I’ll help this time, pushing some of my energy and pulling some of yours into the spell.”

The feeling returned when he summoned a new flask and she put her hands back on him. But this time, as he gathered the fire and pushed it to the flask, he heard the air around him shriek, and a bolt of pure lava seemed to shoot from her fingertips up his arms.

He slammed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth harder against the burning fire, but it seemed to get worse the more he tried to fight against it. Noct gasped as he snatched his hands away, and the flask full of pure fire elemental energy dropped from his shaking fingers onto the stone floor of the haven.

“Noct!” Ignis and Prompto yelled.

Time seemed to slow as he heard the glass flask shattering with a sharp, tinkling sound, but the tent, the kitchen area, and the sight of Iggy and Prompto hurtling toward them was immediately obscured by head-high, bright orange, flickering flame as Noct and Laura were both completely engulfed in heat and light. It was strange, he thought, sitting oddly calm in a chair inside a fire like this. He couldn’t even see Laura as he waited in a surreal daze for the burning pain to come, but it never did. In fact, even his arms were fine now that Laura wasn’t touching him anymore.

It was almost disappointing when the fire started dying, as the dancing inferno had been kinda cool to watch. The first person he saw when the flames fully dissipated was Laura, her eyes wide as she stood and stepped back from him, her hands held up in a gesture of surrender. Prompto stood frozen with his hand reaching out uselessly for them, and Iggy was the only one moving—advancing on them with two potions in his clenched fists. On seeing the two of them perfectly fine, Iggy stopped suddenly, dismissing the potions and rushing to Noct’s side, patting at his jacket and checking for injuries.

“Oh my gods, I’m so sorry,” Laura said shakily, lowering her hands and taking another step back. “I didn’t think it would hurt you, too. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, probably sounding a little too impatient as he waved Iggy away. “Just surprised me is all.”

“Really, Noctis, I am so, so sorry. I swear; I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He shrugged. It wasn’t like there’d been any permanent damage. “It’s cool. Guess your method works.”

“Still, that wasn’t the best way to find out.”

“Not really. But I think I can do what you did myself now.” It was actually really easy, and he wondered why no one, not even Iggy or his dad, had told him before.

Laura didn’t say anything as she collapsed in Gladio’s camp chair with a sigh, folding her legs beneath her and resting her cheeks in her hands.

“All right! Does that mean we won’t get electrocuted anymore?” Prompto asked as he plopped in his chair with his camera.

Laura’s eyes went wide at his words. “You’ve been . . . electrocuting them?”

“Just the one time,” Noct replied with a shrug. “It was an accident.”

“Thrice,” Iggy interrupted from his prep station. “And that’s not including the other elements. I believe I recall there was an incident where you nearly singed off Gladio’s trousers. He was burning mad at you for a week after.”

“All right, ‘thrice,’ then,” Noct snapped back with air quotes. He swore he was gonna put dirt in the man’s boots tomorrow morning if he kept it up. Did Iggy want to make him look bad or something in front of the new girl?

Speaking of looking bad, he was gonna get another lecture if he forgot to bring this up. “Hey, Specs? I popped a couple of buttons off my jacket today. You mind sewing them back on?”

“Certainly, Highness,” Iggy said. “Though I can’t imagine how you managed to achieve such a feat. Just put it in the armiger, and I’ll take care of it after I tie up loose ends after supper.”

After a few moments of silence, Prompto turned to Laura and held out his camera. “Didn’t you say before that you wanted to see my photos?” At his words, that bright smile spread over her face as she turned to Prompto, and Prompto grinned back at her like a fool. Gods, they looked like they were auditioning for a toothpaste commercial.

“Really? Yeah, course I do,” she said as she reached for the camera, carefully twisting her hand at an angle to make sure she didn’t touch Prompto’s skin.

As she clicked through the photos, stopping to smile or inspect certain shots more closely, Prompto kept leaning forward and taking a breath to speak, then flinching and sitting back in his chair. Unbelievable. Guy finally found a pretty girl interested in his photos, and he couldn’t stand to even get near her. Noct bet it must’ve been extra uncomfortable for him, a regular guy who was always cheerful and nice, to be feeling like he wanted to kill a girl like Laura.

“You’ve got a lot of pictures of animals in here. You must really like them. That one of the . . . rhinoceros thing is beautiful with the rock formations in the background like that.”

Prompto tilted his head in confusion before looking to Noct, who shrugged. He’d never heard of a rhinoceros either.

“What’s a rhinoceros?” Prompto asked. “Lemme see.” She tilted the camera in his direction, and Prompto’s eyes met Noct’s briefly again as he said, “Ohhhhh. Um, no. That’s a dualhorn.”

Seriously? The four of them might not have known a lot about the wildlife outside the city, but there were dualhorns in the zoo back in Insomnia. They learned about them in First Year. Hell, one of Noct’s favorite toys growing up had been a whole herd of little plastic dualhorns.

“Dualhorn, got it. Thanks,” she said with a smile and a nod.

After several moments of silence, Prompto rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and leaned forward as much as he could stand. “So . . . whaddya think?”

“They’re fantastic, Prompto,” she said immediately and enthusiastically. “Such a great way to record our trip. But you’ve got to make sure to hand the camera off to one of us now and then so you can get in some shots.”

“Oh! That’s not even necessary! This baby’s got a timer on it, and I brought a tripod,” he said, bobbing his head.

Her voice grew soft and kinda breathless as she looked up at the sky, “You should do a photo shoot tonight! Imagine what this place will look like come nightfall. This far outside the lights of the city? I guarantee you the sky will be awash with ten billion stars. It’s been a crystal clear day, and there are so few trees here to block our view. You’ll need to break out that tripod to hold the camera still for long exposures.”

Prompto seemed to vibrate with excitement as he jumped from his seat and said, “Wow! I didn’t even think of that. Never seen the stars before. What a great idea! I’m gonna find the perfect angle to take shots from. Wanna come with?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, but Ignis promised he’d teach me to forage this afternoon.”

“Aww, okay. But I definitely want your help with the settings tonight, if, you know, you want to?”

“I’d love to! Soon as we get back.” Looking over to where Iggy was setting his cooking utensils just so, she called out to him, “Are you ready to set out?”

Iggy adjusted the angle of his spatula on the table, turned to her, and nodded. “Yes, I believe I am.” As they headed to the ramp together, Noct noticed that Iggy didn’t flinch at all as he drew close enough to walk next to her. Why did her weird thing seem to bother him more than it did the others?

When they’d walked far enough to be out of earshot, Prompto said, “She’s really not so bad as long as you don’t get too close. She’s actually pretty nice.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still really, really bad for me,” Noct said.

Touching her was unbearable. Being anywhere near her was too close to the edge of pain. How was he supposed to get back in the car with her in a couple of days? Iggy definitely wasn’t gonna do much driving this trip if he was gonna insist on them keeping her. Leaning his head back to look at the blue sky stretching above him, he figured she was at least making an effort to fit in with the team, he guessed. Maybe he’d get used to her like Iggy and Prompto seemed to be.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite his exhaustion, Ignis took extra care to pick up his feet as they walked the dusty plains of the Weaverwilds, though it would probably do little to spare his boots from needing a decent once over this evening. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in a lungful of clean, untamed air, allowing it to settle deep into his blood. Casting his eyes over the desiccated tufts of grass, the delicate grey-green bushes, and the rugged mountains in the distance, he could plainly see now why outlanders called this place ‘the wild.’  There was no law out here, no standard of order, but nor was there bureaucracy, meetings to attend, or connections to be made.

He himself felt a little wild out here in this lawless land.

Under the guise of looking past her for more patches of wild tomatoes, he stole a glance at Laura—such a shame that all that talent should be laid to waste on a woman who refused to kill animals. He couldn’t fault her for her personal philosophy, but then why become a soldier? Had the King been made aware of her limitations before assigning her on this mission? Hunting hadn’t been a certainty, but it had always been a possibility for this trip. Fortunately for Noct, he had more than Laura to rely on for safety now that they were no longer merely spending the night in Galdin and departing for Altissia, but what good would she be to any of them if the Prince were attacked and the rest of them were indisposed? These ‘personal philosophies’ of hers certainly limited her usefulness to the group, and Ignis had formed nearly as unimpressed an opinion as Gladio on the matter.

But if what Ignis had observed of her work ethic thus far was a demonstration of her usual habit, she wasn’t completely useless. In fact, she seemed eager to help in any way she was able, which appeared to be more than he’d originally thought. Despite her supposed dimness, she’d moved through the diner and setting up camp with a self-assuredness and finesse that contradicted his original assessment. Her vocabulary in general conversation seemed to rival his own. Even her skill with magic, unusual side effects aside, indicated an innate talent beyond any that Ignis had ever seen; the woman had solved an age-old elemental complication in a matter of seconds as though it were nothing, for gods’ sakes!

He’d been waiting for the moment they were alone together to apologize for his behavior earlier, but now that it had arrived, he found himself apprehensive, fearing she would chastise him now that they no longer had an audience. But it seemed the best way to initiate a conversation, and perhaps he could learn more about her to settle some of these incongruencies nagging at his thoughts—only if she didn’t berate him for his own display of stupidity. Astrals, he despised being wrong—even more so with an audience, and having to apologize for a misstep was even more unpleasant, as the recipient typically enjoyed ribbing him for his mistake before granting their pardon.

 _Suck it up,_ as Gladio would say.

Ignis gently cleared his throat to get her attention, and she looked up at him, her eyes glowing cobalt in the almost too-bright Leiden sun. Taking a steady breath, he fought his instinct to look away from her as he spoke.

“Laura, I’d like to offer my most sincere apologies for being curt with you this morning, and as it turned out, completely incorrect.”

Her brow furrowed as she shook her head. “There’s nothing to forgive. Everyone was on edge pushing that car. If we’re apologizing, I’m sorry for snapping at you. I can have a bit of a temper when people try to coddle me.”

“Yes, I’d noticed that,” he noted mildly, but then winced inwardly. Here she was being gracious, and he was finding further ways to insult her. Just because he felt wild out here didn’t mean he could afford to lose his manners and loosen his tongue. He had court to return to, after all. With a delicate sniff, he straightened, looking out to the horizon as he said, “Well, if you won’t accept my apologies, at least allow me to express my gratitude for not calling me out in front of the others, even if they did miss a prime opportunity to take great relish in my being wrong.”

She put her hand out to stop him and pointed off to his left. “Green peas, yeah?”

Ignis followed her gesture to see a small green patch standing out starkly against a sea of brown, dry dirt, and he nodded as he turned to head in its direction.

“I get it,” she continued. “It’s difficult, sometimes, being the one who’s always right. Means you’re never allowed to be wrong. Even your friends—they lie in wait for you to slip up so they can tease you about it.”

He exhaled a chuckle through his nose. “That’s for sure and certain.”

Did that mean she held the same role among her own friends? She’d certainly been correct this morning and was being generous with her forgiveness now. Perhaps she knew what it felt like to never be allowed to make a mistake, to always, _always_ have to be perfect at all times. And though he strove for it in every moment—desired it more than anything in his life, even he was prone to making errors now and then. But with that sense of perfectionism came a distinct disadvantage: he’d observed that everyone around him would become careless as a result of his presence, as there was no need to put forth much effort when Ignis was always there to do it, and do it well—like handling all the cooking on this trip, apparently, without so much as an ‘if you please.’

Did she know what it was like to be the only responsible one? The idea gave him a little hope for this trip, as being the only one with his work ethic among the four of them had certainly been a heavy weight to bear, indeed, even if he would never stoop so low as to complain about it.

As they picked the last of the peas and he was beginning to wonder how such a plant could even survive out here in the desert, she stood straight and turned to him.

“Thank you for agreeing to teach me to forage, Ignis. I really appreciate the opportunity to learn more about plants in this area—hopefully the animals as well.”

“You’re very welcome. I don’t imagine you had much call to be outdoors in the Crown City. I myself am only familiar with the local flora and fauna because of my studies beforehand. Even with what I’ve read so far, they aren’t as extensive as I’d like.”

She’d been dropping her picked peas into the burlap sack he was holding, but at his words, her eyes shot up to his as she frowned.

“I’m no stranger to living off the wild. I may look and sound like one of you, but I’m not from Insomnia—from anywhere in Lucis, actually.”

He stood frozen for several moments as she dropped in the rest of her peas and continued walking in their original direction. The idea that she wasn’t from their country explained so much, really, including why she was unfamiliar with the most basic facts of their society—not to mention that rather odd ‘rhinoceros’ gaffe earlier. Lucian may not have even been her first language. How could he not have realized? The spark in her eyes combined with the adeptness with which she had handled everything he’d seen her do indicated she wasn’t as dim as he’d first assumed. How could he have read her so incorrectly? This was supposed to be what he _did_. He found himself wanting to apologize to her again, but he could hardly do so for his private, uncharitable thoughts.

Then he had another thought.

Jogging to catch up to her, he exclaimed, “Surely you’re not from Niflheim!”

Surely, His Majesty couldn’t have been so reckless as to place a stranger from enemy territory in their retinue as they traveled to said territory.

“Of course I’m not!” she said, clearly offended by his insinuation as she stopped to glare up at him.

“My apologies, but then where _are_ you from? The King neglected to give us the story of your background before we left.”

She broke eye contact and gazed into the distance. He thought she’d chosen not to respond when she began walking again, but he followed after her, waiting patiently and silently for an answer.

After a few more moments, she scoffed quietly, “From. What does that even mean anyway? I’m from . . . so many places, all so very far away. I’m sure you’ve never heard of any of them.”

“Still, I should like to know,” he replied gently.

With a deep sigh as though she were about to begin some epic tale, she said, “I was born in a city . . . well, it would be more of a village to you and your Crown City, called Lliaméra, deep in the heart of the Palomian Forest of Miriásia. Everyone’s gone now, though—wiped from existence. I am all that’s left.”

He was disappointed to admit to himself that he had never read any of those names in any Lucian text, but as he registered her full statement, disappointment turned to dismay. “I’m sorry. How did . . .?”

She laughed bitterly, and the expression that twisted her face looked ugly on her features. “The same way every civilization gets wiped out—war and disease. We may have been enlightened enough to live in harmony with the forest around us, but we were too stupid to keep from fighting ourselves into extinction. And here I am again, on the brink of another war.”

“Quite the opposite of ‘on the brink of a war,’ I’d say. If all goes according to plan, the treaty will be signed in a matter of days, and peace will come to Eos once more.”

“ _If_ all goes according to plan,” she said. Before he could reply, she asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

Ignis turned his head to narrow his eyes at her in suspicion. She may have gotten him alone and engaged him in candid conversation, but that didn’t mean he was naïve enough to give her unfettered access to his knowledge—whether or not she held His Majesty’s trust and esteem.

“That depends on the question.”

She appeared to be surprised by his reaction to her request, but asked, “Tell me about Lady Lunafreya?”

“That wasn’t a question at all,” he said carefully.

He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt—perhaps she hadn’t realized that the vague wording of her question was a tactic he himself used when attempting to pull the most important information from someone, as they were likely to answer with facts most important to them first. There was certainly too much of Noct’s heart potentially hidden in her query that he would not share with her.

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I’ll be clearer. The reports keep reassuring everyone that her marriage won’t interfere with her duties as Oracle as though the people are terrified that it will. What are her duties, and why are people so frightened?”

“Were your people not susceptible to the very same plague? It’s ravaged the entire world for over two thousand years, yet we know so little about it. It was released on the world during the War of the Astrals. We call it Starscourge, and it causes the afflicted to disappear into thin air.”

“My gods—a virus as a result of a war,” she breathed, her face growing pale. “That’s exactly what happened to my people. History certainly has a way of repeating itself. But what does that have to do with Lady Lunafreya?”

“Historically, the Oracle has been gifted with the ability to alleviate the blight’s effect on the population and planet by healing the disease and clearing the atmosphere until the true King of Light ascends to rid the world of it completely.”

At least, that’s what they’d been told for over half their lives, though none of them knew exactly what that would entail for any of them. Their nebulous destiny was one of the reasons Ignis had toiled so hard all his life—he’d made a promise to the King as a boy that he would always look after Noct, and that included taking care of him as he met the great weight of that destiny. Ambiguous though their future was, it was Ignis’s sole purpose in life to see him through it.

“And the King of Light is Noctis.”

“Yes. In addition to acting as the bridge of communication between mortal and divine, Lady Lunafreya travels from settlement to settlement, healing the Starscourge and waiting for Noct to ascend and rid the world of its influence.”

“I see,” she said. “And what would the consequences be should he fail?”

“Eternal darkness and the eventual end of all mankind.”

“Of course,” she said with a nod, as though he hadn’t just proposed the extinction of the entire world. “That seems to be the only consequence there ever is.”

Ignis froze when she suddenly stopped and placed a hand on his arm, her head tilting and eyes narrowing.

“Shh. Do you hear that?” she whispered.

He closed his eyes and cocked his head, straining to listen. Other than the sound of the wind blowing across the open desert and through the sparse greenery, he couldn’t hear anything that would have caught her interest.

Shaking his head, he whispered back, “No. What is it?”

As she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement and mischief, a slow, almost manic smile spread over her features—full of wonder and electricity that Ignis couldn’t possibly fathom a reason for. Nevertheless, he felt his blood quicken in his veins as his own lips quirked in amusement at her sudden joy.

“Ignis,” she whispered, the hushed breathiness of it practically dripping with elation. “Come with me. Keep quiet.” She turned to their right, jogging forward a few steps, but when he didn’t immediately comply, she looked back, beckoning for him to follow. “Come on! Allons-y!” she coaxed quietly.

He understood the sentiment, if not the words themselves, and he followed after her.

On silent feet, she trotted off to a nearby rock formation, which stuck out from the ground like a mountain made miniature, as he did his best to keep up with her as quietly as possible. What could she have possibly heard all the way out here that he couldn’t? As they reached the base of the rock, she held a finger to her lips and crept around the corner. He followed behind until she halted suddenly, and he poked his head around hers to see what had gotten her attention.

The creature was rather large—easily six meters tall, had it been standing. Even lying with its legs curled beneath itself under the shade of the rock wall, its face rested well above their heads. As it turned its horned, wedge-shaped head to look at them in alarm, Ignis summoned his polearm. Judging by its physiology, it was likely herbivorous, but the dinner-plate-sized hooves and long, vestigial claws were still capable of doing them great damage, should it choose to do so. Though Ignis hadn’t yet come across the creature’s entry in his field guide, Takka had said that all the animals in the area were dangerous.

The animal seemed to read his thoughts and proved Takka’s statement when it bared its teeth threateningly and loosed a long, resounding bray.

Hearing the tinkling sound of his summoning, Laura turned to him, her expression shocked and . . . dare he say, hurt? She shook her head at him, silently instructing him not to attack, and stepped away from the corner.

“Laura, don’t,” he hissed.

Ignis wasn’t terribly concerned for her safety, knowing she could summon a weapon and kill the creature before it could even stand. Still, given her refusal to hunt, he wasn’t completely certain she would do so, even if her life were in danger.

“This one’s different,” she said softly, still taking slow, careful steps toward the beast. “Perhaps someone tried to keep it as a pet?”

He had no idea how she had reached this conclusion, but it seemed unlikely, given that the animal had stretched its prodigiously long neck taut to meet her as she neared, its lips quivering to take a sizable chunk out of her.

Ignis was about to jump out to defend her when, without looking away from the creature, she said in a soothing voice, “Don’t you dare.”

Despite her lack of eye contact, he knew the instruction was meant for him, so he reluctantly obeyed, remaining rooted to the spot as she drew closer. It went against every instinct he had, allowing the head of that enormous wild animal to reach the vulnerable-looking girl, but then he had to remind himself that appearances could be deceiving; that seemed to have been the rule for her, anyway. She held her arms out as the animal deposited its muzzle, which was nearly as large as her torso, into her embrace.

“Hello, dear,” she cooed, stroking its cheeks, and Ignis had to splutter a quiet laugh at the absurdity of this mad situation he’d somehow found himself in.

At the sound of his laughter, Laura looked up at him, gesturing with her head that he should approach. “Put that thing away and come here,” she said in a gentle tone.

Swallowing, Ignis dismissed his polearm and took a slow step forward. Surely, he would be safe if the creature hadn’t yet attacked her? It wasn’t as though he knew anything about interacting with animals in the wild or reading their body language. The uncertainty caused by his inexperience made him uncomfortable, but Laura did seem to be somewhat of an expert in this. He decided to trust that expertise in the face of his ignorance—a practice he was most unaccustomed to, but she’d proven her opinion dependable thus far.

As he approached, she moved around to the beast’s side, settling on the dry, brittle grass, her back against its belly and her legs stretched out in front of her. Seemingly dissatisfied with the cessation of her attentions, the animal reached its neck around and deposited its muzzle in her lap, and she ran her fingers lightly over its velvety tawny nose with a soft murmur. At her touch, it heaved a whooshing, breathy sigh that hitched her entire body forward and back with the movement.

He stood over her when he reached them, uncertain of what to do when she patted the ground next to her and said, “Come sit down with me.”

He had to admit that the idea intrigued him, but he couldn’t help but eye the brittle grass surrounded by dusty, cracked dirt. He’d been keeping an eye on his lists of things to do today and knew that he had so much that needed to be accomplished when he returned to camp. Laundry didn’t need to be added to his workload just yet.

Laura seemed to know exactly what he was thinking as she followed his gaze because she rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you now that this is the first and only creature I’ve been able to do this with since I got here, besides the pets in the city. This may be a once in a lifetime opportunity. Sit down, and I’ll clean your clothes myself when we get back.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, deciding to acquiesce for this unique circumstance and settling down next to her, his legs stretched out in front of him along the animal’s outstretched hind legs. He tried not to think about the fact that a single kick in his direction could kill him outright as he leaned his back against the beast’s ribs, feeling the animal rock his body with each breath.

The feeling was . . . actually rather pleasant as he sat in the shade and looked out at the sweeping view of the desert. After removing the glove from his left hand and setting it in his lap, he ever so carefully stretched his palm over the beast's leg, stroking the short, wiry fur.

“Do you know what it’s called?” Laura asked. “I’ve been calling it a girafalope in my head, but I’m sure that’s wrong.”

He opened his eyes to glare at her. “Do you mean to say that you approached this thing not even knowing what it was? You’re mad!”

Far from being offended by his somewhat appalling outburst, she smirked and looked away. “Girafalope it is, then.” She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, the curve of her full lips turning up into a soft smile. “Do you smell that, Ignis? It’s life.”

In what seemed to be a frequent habit of his since they’d left this morning, he took in a slow, deep breath through his nose, filling his lungs until they tingled from stretching so far. Beyond the scent of wild animal, he could smell the dirt; the sweet, dry grass; and the heat on the wind. The aroma was so very different from the stench of car exhaust fumes, sewage, and humid trash he had grown up with in the city, even in the wealthier districts close to the Citadel. This aroma was wild, savage, free, and he could tell that it was beginning to infect his blood and mind—untaming him. He’d been out of the influence of the royal court for mere hours and already he was sitting in the dirt with a woman he hardly knew with his back to a feral animal. Perhaps he was the one that had gone mad, but Astrals, was he ever enjoying it.

“Yes, it’s lovely,” he said, looking over at her with a crooked smile.

“It’s a shame there aren’t any clouds out today. I used to lie in the grass and pick out the shapes.”

Ignis leaned his head back against the beast’s belly as she was and gazed up at the sky in silent awe. “I’ve never done anything like that, except perhaps in my dreams. I tended to avoid looking at the sky as a child, and it’s a habit that’s followed me into adulthood.”

“I think I can understand that, with your Wall above your head, but we’ll have to break you of that habit now that you’re out here.”

He closed his eyes as the warm wind whipped through his hair. “Yes . . ..”

***

“Ignis,” came a gentle whisper.

The animal beneath his back flinched as he startled awake, and he bolted upright, his eyes darting over his surroundings in unfocused alarm.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Laura said kindly from above him, and he looked up to see her smiling sweetly down at him.

“I—I fell asleep,” he said dumbly.

“Yes, you did.”

Bloody hell, how could he have fallen asleep out here in the middle of nowhere when anything could have attacked them? How irresponsible could he have been? He supposed Laura had been keeping a lookout, but even if he’d technically been safe, he was hardly making a good first impression.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asked as he stumbled to his feet, stretching his legs and brushing off his trousers vigorously. Despite his agitation, he felt . . . well, not well-rested, but still enormously refreshed.

“A couple of hours,” she said, her brow furrowing in concern. “It’s all right, Ignis. I kept watch. It’s just that you looked like you needed the rest.”

“It’s not that,” he said somewhat irritably, although that was part of the issue. “We need to get back. I have more things to do than hours in the day, and I’ve just wasted two.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” she said lightly, wrapping her arms briefly around the animal’s muzzle one more time before heading in the direction of the haven with surprisingly long strides for her height. “I bet you’ll find you’ve earned those hours back somewhere.”

While her sentiment was touching, she didn’t understand that his life was a never-ending rotation of lists, tasks, chores, requests—and that was to say nothing of his own endeavors to improve himself. No matter where she was from, her skills and education still clearly suggested that she’d been raised a noblewoman, and though he himself was titled, his circumstances were very different from those of most courtiers. There would always be more to do, and even if a miracle occurred and he somehow managed to accomplish his every task, someone was going to ask him for a favor. Someone was going to break something, muddy something, need something, and he would be the only one who could fix it.

But as he felt the blood run through his body, making his fingertips twitch and the fog of sleep clear from his mind, he thought that perhaps she’d been right. Perhaps those two hours of peaceful rest on the ribs of an impossible beast under an endless blue sky next to her had been exactly what he needed to get him through the rest of the day.

The moment they returned to the haven, Ignis stood at his prep table and summoned his notebook, which contained all his recipes, notes, and lists. His daily to-do list was a folded sheet of paper tucked into the front cover, which he pulled out to determine how much he could get done before he needed to begin preparing supper for the group.

“Should we be concerned Gladio isn’t back?” Laura asked quietly so as not to wake Noct, who was fast asleep in his camp chair.

Ignis glanced at the fire ring before casting his eyes around the site, his attention catching on the large stack of sticks and wood pieces next to the tent.

“He’s likely all right. Gladio has been eager to enjoy the wild. Doubtless he went for a hike.”

“All right, then I think I’ll help Prompto set up his shot for tonight—unless you need my help with anything?”

“No, that’s quite all right. Go and assist Prompto,” he replied, nodding to where Prompto sat in his camp chair, fiddling with his camera next to his set-up tripod.

“Oh, and don’t worry about making the bread tonight. I already have some I can give you for the group.”

She had turned by the time he looked up from unfolding his list, not giving him a chance to respond, and sat next to Prompto. How had she known he was going to need bread this evening? He pulled his fountain pen out of his jacket pocket to cross one item off—a relief, really. Making bread wasn’t particularly labor intensive, but it was terribly time consuming. He wondered whether she had made bread this morning before leaving in anticipation of their needing it. It seemed impossible, given how early they’d left.

When he found ‘Make Bread’ on his list, however, he saw that it had already been crossed out. Had she found his notebook in the armiger? She’d already known the book wasn’t private, he supposed, as he’d had it out to refer to it several times already that day in front of her. His brow furrowed as he scanned the list to discover that she had crossed other items off besides the bread.

He set his notebook down and summoned Noct’s jacket. Sure enough, the buttons had been sewn back on with tiny, precise stitches. He dismissed the jacket and summoned Noct’s sword, which had been gathering dust in the back of the Prince’s closet for years now, as he tended to prefer the practice swords in the training room that he didn’t have to care for afterward. Not only had it been polished, but it bit easily into his fingernail when he gently brushed it against the edge. He checked each of the blades on his list: his daggers, his polearm, even his straight-edge razor, for gods’ sakes, had been cleaned, polished, and sharpened. Had she done all this as he slept? How on Eos had he managed to sleep through that? How had she found the time to do it all in only two hours?

Ignis’s gaze snapped to where Laura sat next to Prompto, and their eyes met. Her attention dropped to his razor in his hands before sliding back up to his face. Ever so slowly, her lips pulled wide, the skin around her eyes crinkled, and her eyes glittered with delight.

That. There. That was the smile he had been looking for.

Odd. He hadn’t done a thing to deserve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Traveling with a fountain pen...I don't recommend it. But judging by that outfit, Ignis isn't _always_ practical. Canon wise, however, I should point out he uses a regular pen.


	6. Chapter 6

Ignis inspected his completed spread one last time, questioning his decision to leave the ingredients separated out so that everyone could assemble their own sandwiches as they preferred. He would have to keep an eye out this evening, and perhaps once he’d grown more familiar with everyone’s tastes, he could serve them already made.

Satisfied with his solution, he turned to where the other four sat around the campfire and announced, “Dinner is served.”

He’d only just gotten the inspiration for this recipe this afternoon at Takka’s Pit Stop. The garula steak he’d used for the Grease Monkey's Schnitzel Sandwiches had been of a decent quality—traded from one of the hunters passing through Hammerhead for a generous portion of their seemingly endless supply of rice and what was left of their meagre amount of gil. The meat was certainly juicy enough not to require the copious amounts of steak sauce Gladio and Noct dumped on the perfectly golden-brown crust, and Ignis did his very best to conceal his lip curling up in disgust at Prompto’s application of ketchup, of all things. Still—if that was how they preferred their sandwiches, he would hold his tongue.

They likely didn’t realize that it was no simple matter to fry foods on a camp stove.

“I still can’t believe you did all this,” Laura said in a low voice, but Ignis frowned down at her plate, noting that she’d only taken two dry pieces of toast. Surely, it couldn’t be coincidence that she was eating only the food she had contributed this evening? Did his cooking appear that unappetizing? He’d certainly put a great deal of effort into impressing all of them, including her, with his skills, but he seemed to have fallen short of her estimation.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked earnestly, hoping she would provide him with some feedback for why she had refrained from sampling his food. She had to have been starving, as she’d been pushing the Regalia, hiking, setting up camp, and foraging in the hot sun alongside them, and he hadn’t seen her eat anything of substance all day.

She set her plate down on the edge of the prep table. “I’m fine,” she replied quietly so the others couldn’t hear her.

As Ignis prepared his plate and settled into his camp chair, Laura headed to the cooler next to the tent where they kept the drinking water—bottled for convenience but filled from the tap in Hammerhead after they’d used up their supply while getting the car there. He remembered she had been pale and shaking yesterday in the throne room. Perhaps she was still recovering from an illness—and today’s exertions would hardly have been a help. Astrals, he should have remembered and made soup this evening, instead. Tomorrow, perhaps, he could try out a recipe for dry-aged tender roast stew with their remaining supply of garula meat—limited as it was.

“Not bad,” Gladio remarked with a grunt as put his sandwich down on his plate and reached for the beer down by his feet.

“You kidding me? I never ate like this at home. This is awesome, Iggy!” Prompto exclaimed.

Though Prompto was notoriously easy to please, particularly when it came to food, Ignis smiled a little and nodded his thanks.

“You posh royals are spoiled if you think this is what normal people eat while camping,” Laura said to Gladio and Noct with a glowing smile at Ignis as she strode past them with her plate and bottle. “You’d better be grateful Ignis apparently has superhuman skills in the kitchen.”

Then why had she refused to even try his meal? He certainly didn’t want to sound like an impudent brat and ask her directly.

Suddenly realizing that she had no place to sit, he stood, gesturing to his chair.

“Please, take my seat. I’m afraid the King didn’t give Gladio enough notice to procure camping equipment for you, and we weren’t certain if you would bring your own. We’ll make it our first priority once our finances are in order.”

Laura shook her head, motioning for him to sit back down as she folded her legs beneath her on the glowing haven rock next to him.

“This is fine,” she nearly whispered before looking down to pick unenthusiastically at her toast.

Already, he was beginning to despise that word.

“We uh . . . need to get another tent, too, and an extra sleeping bag,” Prompto said, wincing. “I’m not sure how we’re all gonna fit in the tent tonight.”

“Really, I know I don’t look like it, but I’m used to sleeping anywhere. There’s no need to purchase a completely new setup just because I came along, especially with finances being as they are. I brought a blanket; the sky is clear, and the fire is warm. That’s all I need for now.”

“You’re gonna need shelter if we camp out when it rains. We won’t get ya nothing fancy, but it’ll get the job done,” Gladio said with a frown. “Make it the first thing we do when we get the bounties for our hunts, Iggy.”

“Indeed,” Ignis agreed.

He was glad to see the Shield showing his friendlier side to Laura, despite his dislike and somewhat justified opinion of her. If this trip was going to take them much longer than anticipated, they would all need to get along, at the very least, and hopefully become a cohesive unit in these two and a half weeks they had before the wedding.

Once they had all finished eating, Ignis turned to the dirty dishes piled up on the prep table with a sigh. This was how it was going to be every evening, was it? He supposed being given the role of dishwasher by the others wasn’t entirely inappropriate, as they all knew of Ignis’s fastidiousness when it came to cleanliness—and of his frequent habit of deep-cleaning Noct’s apartment when it got out of hand. And it wasn’t as though he would’ve allowed them to assist anyway, had they asked. Still, it would have been kind of one of them to offer.

As he poured the rest of the heated water from the stove to his washing bucket, he glanced around the site, noticing that Noct had crawled into the tent to play on his phone—probably moments away from drifting off to sleep, Prompto had wandered to the edge of the haven to play with his camera, and Gladio had found a clear space behind the tent to perform his routine bodyweight exercises. But where had Laura gone off to?

“Do you need any help?” came her soft query from behind him, and he spun to face her.

“Honestly, you’ve done enough already. I’m in your debt as it is for taking over my responsibilities as I slept this afternoon.”

As much as he would appreciate her company while he worked, he couldn’t possibly ask her to take over more of his tasks. She’d offered her services when he’d started dinner, and he’d refused with the same explanation he was giving her now. But though he didn’t wish for her help, perhaps she would stay and talk to him, instead; there was still so much more he wanted to know about her.

Her eyes tightened as she shook her head. “No, you’re not. I’ve seen you staring at that list at least thirty times today—every time we took a break pushing the car, at the diner, when we got here. I didn’t want my little experience to end up costing you. Consider it a thank you for joining me in a life adventure. They’re so much better with two. Now, scoot over.”

“Really, it’s not nec—” he began, but he was forced to take a step as she practically pushed him aside with her hip.

“Nonsense. We’re all in this together, and I need to do my part, especially if I’m not hunting with you all.” She pointed a stern finger at him as though he were a naughty child. “You’re going to keep that list accessible to me; I’m going to help with everything I can, and you’re not even going to thank me for it, understand?”

Ignis turned his head away and closed his eyes for a moment. Could it really be that simple?

Deep down, he’d wanted the others to make the offer—not truly follow through. Though he was most certainly Noct’s servant and caretaker, that didn’t necessarily mean he’d wanted the others to expect solicitude from him—even if he was technically a servant of the retinue by extension of being servant to the Crown. He’d only wanted Prompto, Gladio, and Laura not to assume that he’d be doing all the kitchen work, even if he’d already resigned himself to that role. If he were honest with himself, this went against everything he was—asking a lady and a noblewoman to compensate for his own failures to serve—even if his title was likely equal to or higher than hers. Not only was it a blow to his pride, to ask for her assistance in his duties was simply not how he was raised by his tutors.

But they were no longer in a royal court; they were out here in the wild, where the others had already mentioned to him several times to relax. Of course, he would never relent in his duties to Noct, no matter the cost to himself, as Noct’s future was far too important to surrender in even the most mundane and seemingly meaningless aspects of his job description. It wasn’t as though he were ungrateful for his position in life; he was only too happy to serve and see the moments when the group appreciated his efforts. But he had to admit that he’d long grown weary of always walking alone, of being exhausted all the time, of having to pretend to always be perfectly put together in every moment when he was often hanging by only a thread and a cup of coffee.

The alluring solution Laura was presenting him with offered up the possibility of finding relief, of freeing up some of his time to work on other projects, while still holding true to the decorum necessary for serving the Prince. She had proven herself trustworthy already—that he was permitted to be wrong in front of her. Could he also be weak, if even for only a moment? The afternoon he had spent with her seemed to suggest so.

The offer was too much for him to decline. Besides, it wasn’t as though he could beat her away from the kitchen area. He turned back to her and nodded once.

“Then I shall say it just this once: thank you, truly.”

“You are most welcome, Ignis,” she replied with a bright grin as she took the wet plate he was gripping too tightly in his hands, grabbed a nearby dish towel, and began rubbing it dry.

Apparently, it really was that simple.

They’d almost finished with the dishes; all that was left was the pan Laura had just finished draining of oil when she looked up at him with that expression he had already come to identify as wonder.

“Ignis,” she whispered in a luminous voice as she dimmed the lamp hanging on a pole next to them. “The sun has gone down. When was the last time you looked at the sky?”

Without a word, he turned his attention out over the desert, dropping the pan in the bucket as he took in the scene. Long had he been fascinated with the idea of the stars, though he’d given up on the prospect of ever seeing any when he was a child. Ignis would often read to Noct from his astronomy book when they were younger and he’d had trouble sleeping after his incident with the marilith. Together, they would lie awake on the window bench in Noct’s room, gazing at the pictures and imagining they could see the constellations through the haze of the Wall and light pollution from the city.

But for all their dreaming, Ignis had never imagined a sight such as this.

Never in his life had the sky seemed so . . . enormous—so completely all-encompassing that he felt small in comparison. It wasn’t possible that the night sky could be so impossibly black that it was almost a void that would swallow him whole—were it not for the twinkling points of light that transformed the inky blackness into a velvety blue he could almost reach out and brush his fingers against. He hadn’t believed Laura when she’d said ‘ten billion stars’ to Prompto earlier in the afternoon, but what other number could describe the sea of sparkles he was currently humbled by?

“They’re even slightly different colors,” he whispered, full of wonder.

“And each is a planet or a ball of gas, burning millions or billions of miles away, as big or bigger than your own sun, possibly sustaining life on planets of their own.”

“I’ve never seen anything so dazzling in all my life.”

“And to think, this is only your first night out of the city,” she said with a soft smile. “Imagine what else we’ll see on this journey of ours.”

Yes, and what else would she draw his attention to as they traveled, he wondered? She may have been somewhat ridiculous in her refusal to hunt, but he certainly couldn’t deny now that she was intelligent, skilled, and insightful. He silently thanked the King for sending her with them, if only for this opportunity to learn from this strange creature who saw the world so differently than he.

After they had finished the dishes in silent companionship watching the stars, Ignis sat in his chair, nursing a cup of coffee as he arranged a fresh spreadsheet on his lap to begin tallying up their needs and costs. But he was distracted when Laura walked past the fire and past Prompto to sit down cross-legged on the edge of the haven.

Outside the circle of light the campfire provided, the moonlight seemed to turn her hair into living blue flame as she released it from its twist and let it cascade down her back. Her eyes caught the light and reflected it, shimmering an ethereal blue as she gazed up at the breathtaking sky stippled with stars. She had removed her jacket before sitting down, and her bare arms seemed to glow against the bright light as her hands pressed firmly against the stone. Something seemed to coalesce in Ignis’s chest at the sight of this painfully familiar, capable, kind, warrior woman sitting quietly amidst the stunning scenery, closing her eyes, and murmuring softly under her breath.

Astrals forgive him his blasphemy, but he imagined that not even Shiva herself could have looked more beautiful.

Prompto must have thought so too, for he had shifted the focus of his camera to include her sitting gracefully beneath that infinite glittering sky.

“So, uh . . . are you praying or something?” Prompto asked after several more clicks of his camera. “I could leave you alone.”

Laura turned to face him and smiled. “No. I’m sort of . . . meditating, but you aren’t bothering me.”

“What sort of meditation?” Ignis couldn’t help but intrude. He had read about many types of meditation, as well as their benefits, but he didn’t consider himself the spiritual sort to gain any advantage from these techniques, even if he were to have the time for such self-indulgence. Despite his family’s loyalty to Ifrit, Ignis’s only spiritual tendencies involved praying to the goddess Shiva, for personal reasons, but it had been years since he’d last done so.

“It’s not exactly meditation, per se. I am attempting to align my resonant frequency to that of your land.”

“ _What_ does _that_ mean?” Prompto asked.

Ignis knew of the concept of resonant frequency, of course; the demonstration of a person able to break a glass using only the power of their voice came to his mind immediately after she’d said it. He had never, however, heard of the term applied to a person before and wondered what it meant for her to need to adjust it.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that you feel uncomfortable near me. I’ve seen you all flinching when I’m near—except for Ignis, who I’m sure is trying too hard to be polite,” she said, looking back and forth between the two of them for confirmation.

Was this what the others had been referring to in the car and at the diner? Was it a literal discomfort she’d been inflicting on them?

Ignis was about to shake his head, as he had felt nothing of the sort, but Prompto replied before he could respond, “Err, yeah. We were kinda wondering about that, actually. Sorry.” He winced and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“It’s quite all right. My energy vibrates at a different frequency than yours. It’s different from the energy of your bodies, the food, the ground, even the magic you use. You can sense that difference, and your mind interprets it as wrongness. I’m attempting to correct, or at least mitigate, that difference.”

“Why would we feel it though? Just because you’re, uh, vibrating differently,” Prompto asked.

Her brow furrowed as she shook her head. “I’m not sure. I believe it has something to do with the Crystal. As its servants, you feel this difference more keenly, Noct most of all. It’s why I hurt him when I was helping him with spells earlier. The others in Hammerhead, those people not connected to the Crystal, didn’t seem to notice anything off about me.”

“And what about you? How does this energy difference feel to you?” Ignis asked, though he believed he already knew the answer. He recalled with perfect clarity the first moments the flames had subsided, when he found that Noct was blessedly safe, and she was saying, ‘I didn’t think it would hurt you, _too_.’ His suspicions were confirmed when her face tightened and her eyes opened wider.

“It burns,” she breathed. “Every touch, every breath is fire, burning me alive.”

“Then why do you stay here?” Prompto asked.

Ignis thought that it was certainly a good question. This wasn’t her homeland. If staying here in Lucis meant as much pain as she claimed, he couldn’t imagine what would keep her here. He thought of every time she had smiled today and wondered at her astounding ability to hide pain.

She hesitated a moment before replying, “Because I made a vow to the King.”

So it was duty then that kept her, a position that he understood well. He himself would walk through fire with pleasure if it meant keeping his word and protecting Noct. Still, he wondered how she, a denizen of a foreign land, had ended up beholden to the Lucian King.

“So what can we do to help?” Prompto asked eagerly. “Like, what’re you doin’ there?”

“Right now, I’m attempting to connect myself to ground below and sort of . . . aligning myself with it.” She shrugged as she ran her fingertips over the stone. “It’s difficult to explain, but the havens seem to be a better place to do this than anywhere else because the magic from the runes is an extra source of Lucian energy. I think I’m making progress. Already, it seems easier to breathe.” She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply to emphasize her point. “But, the more concentrated the source of energy, the faster I can align.”

“Wouldn’t it be more efficient if you used one of us, then? We both have direct access to the Crystal’s powers through Noct,” Ignis suggested.

“Yeah, we could do that!” Prompto agreed. “But will it . . . you know, hurt?”

She grimaced and said, “To be honest, I’m not sure. It won’t be comfortable, but I can never tell when what I do is going to cause you pain. I certainly won’t try using my magic on any of you; I never would have offered to help Noctis if I’d known it was going to hurt him.”

Prompto plopped down on the ground beside her. “I’ll give it a shot. Just tell me what I need to do.”

Laura’s lips lifted into a gentle smile. “Just sit there and be you. And promise that you’ll tell me the moment it gets too uncomfortable to bear.” She reached out to his bare arm, her hand hovering, waiting for his assent.

Prompto nodded, his expression serious for once, and closed his eyes. He winced as her hand made contact with his arm, but he covered it with a giggle. “Sorry,” he said as he opened his eyes and smiled at her. “It’s not as bad as it was earlier today, but it’s still pretty weird.”

Ignis wondered exactly what sensation Prompto was referring to. Was it pain? An instinctual feeling? When they’d discussed it in the diner, they had described it as the desire to run or do her physical harm, but that could encompass both sensations. He’d thought they had been speaking metaphorically and inwardly scoffed at their closed-mindedness, horrified by their uncharacteristic declarations of violence. He’d heard enough now to understand otherwise, but even after spending so much time near her today, he had yet to experience what the others seemed to feel so keenly. Admittedly, he had not yet touched her bare skin as Prompto was doing now, but they had all complained of the phenomenon without having touched her.

“Looks like Prince Sleepy’s out,” Gladio said as he walked around to the front of the tent and pulled back the flap. “Think I’m gonna turn in, too. Night.”

“Sleep well,” Ignis replied somewhat absentmindedly, still picking at the clues of Laura’s predicament.

Deciding to let the mystery simmer at the back of his thoughts, Ignis took another sip of his coffee and turned his attention back to the spreadsheets in his lap. At the very least, they would need to purchase another camp chair, a sleeping bag, and something that would offer Laura shelter as she slept. The chair was simple; they could pick that up after their first hunt tomorrow. The shelter, however, was another matter. The way he saw it, they had two options: to purchase a small tent to accommodate a single occupant or a larger tent for the five of them. Even if they sold their current tent when purchasing the larger one, the smaller shelter would be the cheaper option by far.

Still, there were some things that were more important than frugality, and that was symbolism. They needed to present a united front to the world, and they needed to let Laura know that she was welcome in their group. She may have made the others uncomfortable now, but she was working on it, and in the meantime, she could always sleep between him and the side of the tent. His decision made, he just had to hope that the weather would hold out long enough for them to collect enough bounties to make the purchase.

A small grunt followed by ragged panting drew Ignis’s attention immediately to where Laura and Prompto sat.

Laura opened her eyes and snatched her hand back at the sound, chastising gently, “You should’ve said something sooner. Are you all right?”

Prompto’s relief was instantaneous the moment her hand left him, and he beamed at her in response. “Yeah, no sweat. I can tell it’s much better already, but I think my tolerance for it kinda wears down after a while. Sorry. Think I’m gonna head off to bed now,” he said as he gestured toward the tent.

“Good night, Prompto. And thank you.”

“You got it, girl!” he exclaimed, pointing finger guns at her and winking.

After several moments, Ignis felt rather than saw Laura settle into Noct’s camp chair next to him. He finished tallying the bounties for their prospective hunts and looked over to see her staring blankly into the fire, her knees pulled up to her chest and the dancing flames reflecting in her eyes. She had wrapped a giant, monstrous looking blanket around herself, making her look like a child with the patchy brown fabric engulfing her like a garula skin.

“Will you be requiring my assistance this evening as well?” he asked quietly.

Laura didn’t look away from the fire as she shook her head, and his mouth tugged down in a frown as he brushed away the somewhat surprising stirring of disappointment.

“It’s been a long day, and you should be heading to bed soon. Honestly, Ignis, you look exhausted. I think I’ve imposed myself enough for one day.”

“If you’re fatigued, I can offer my services another time. But don’t feel as though you need to decline on my behalf. My, err. . . predilection for caffeine in the evening tends to keep me up later than the rest.  And I assure you, it’s no burden on my part.”

She turned toward him then, worrying her lip between her teeth as she seemed to hesitate, so he made the decision for her.

“Here.”

Ignis stood and pulled his chair close to hers so that the arms were touching before removing his gloves and jacket, laying them neatly across the back of Prompto’s chair. He put his cufflinks in his jacket pocket and pulled up the sleeves of his shirt, folding them back precisely and baring his forearms. When he sat back down next to her, he took a deep breath before reaching for her hand and entwining their fingers tightly, arranging it so his bare forearm rested on top of hers.

And _still_ , he felt no discomfort from her touch, which was a relief, but also curious. Her hand was slightly cool despite their proximity to the fire, and _oh,_ so soft—lacking any callouses despite her no doubt extensive experience with blades. He’d never touched a woman—anyone—like this for an extended period, and he was somewhat scandalized and surprised by the sudden, insane thought that he should let go of her hand and run his fingertips along the veins on the inside of her wrist and up her forearm. Shoving the feeling aside, he swallowed and turned his eyes from her to the fire, but that didn’t keep her perfume, a sweet, pine-floral scent that he couldn’t name, from taunting him, making his heart beat and his breath come a little faster. What on Eos was the matter with him? Perhaps he was more exhausted than he’d realized.

He let out a slow, steady breath in an attempt to compose himself.

“I must be getting better at this if you can bear that,” she said quietly, contemplating their arms between them. “The additional skin contact seems to make the connection more intense.”

He felt his cheeks set fire at her words and silently damned that his every emotion seemed to show so easily on his face despite how successfully he managed to school his features. Blast. He’d thought he’d long broken that particular habit of his.

He wanted to tell her that he’d never felt what the others had, and yet he didn’t wish her to think he was some sort of freak. But what if he lacked the proper energy she needed to acclimate? He would no longer have an excuse to touch her like this, but putting her through the humiliation of having to hold a stranger’s hand if it wasn’t going to help her was not acceptable—even if he was apparently getting some sort of perverse pleasure from it. He decided to ask an indirect question to probe the matter.

“Does my touch cause you pain?” he asked, fearing either answer.

After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “I can still feel it, but it’s not as strong as it was before my session with Prompto. Hopefully, with a few days’ practice, I won’t rub you all the wrong way anymore, and I’ll be able to breathe again.”

So, his assistance was doing her good after all, and his touch was not unbearable. These were the best circumstances he could hope for, really.

“Then I shall make myself available every night for as long as I am needed.”

Her eyes were fathomless as she searched his face, and her lips parted for a moment before she said in soft wonder, “Thank you.”


	7. Chapter 7

Gladio hadn’t expected the air to be cool and a little damp when he emerged from the tent early the next morning—when the sky was light enough to signal dawn, but the sun hadn’t poked above the horizon.

He _had_ expected to find Iggy already up, because it was well-known that guy never slept. Now that they were out on the road and hunting and shit, Gladio wasn’t gonna be surprised at all if Iggy got injured and ended up exposing wires instead of blood. But instead of finding him at the stove mainlining Ebony and cooking up some elaborate meal, he was passed out in his camp chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him so that his boots were nearly touching the fire ring of gently smoking logs.

What made Gladio freeze in place and cock his head to the side in fascination was that Ignis’s neck was craned uncomfortably to the side, his head was resting against Laura’s shiny dark hair, and holy fuck, it couldn’t’ve been his imagination that he and Laura were holding hands. Laura was curled up in Noct’s chair like a cat, half covered in one of the ugliest blankets he’d ever laid eyes on—looked like a garula with a bad case of mange. Her eyes were closed, too—with her head resting against Iggy’s shoulder and her hair spilling down his chest.

So, this shit was finally happening, huh? He couldn’t say much for Iggy’s taste. The girl was hot, he guessed, but way too _weird_ for him, personally. At least overhearing their discussion last night about her freaky ass energy and how his need to kill her wasn’t her fault solved one issue. He could at least give her a chance, now that there was a reason for it besides his instinct. She seemed nice enough—a little dumb—but that didn’t really matter to Gladio. He’d make friends with anyone so long as they had a good heart.

After all these years of pushing girls—and guys, just in case—in Iggy’s direction, Gladio couldn’t help but groan at his timing. All those years of him not taking the bait and making excuses about his duties to the Crown, Gladio’d just figured the guy was asexual or something, which was fine too. Gladio took his responsibilities seriously as well, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find some time to have more than a little fun. But now, on the road like this, with another member of the retinue, things could get complicated. He didn’t want to put a stop to what was probably Ignis’s first time having fun, but he would at the first signs of distraction.

But it was weird seeing Iggy so . . . expressive with someone after knowing them only a day. Hell, he and Noct had known him since they were kids and had never seen him touch anyone beyond a handshake or pat on the shoulder. Not for the first time, he wondered about the girl’s origins and loyalties. Ignis had told them last night that she wasn’t from Lucis. Could she be trying to seduce him to get to Noct somehow? If those rumors back in Insomnia were true, was that what she’d been trying to do to the King? He wouldn’t act on assumptions, but he’d have to keep a close eye on them—on her.

 _Time to meet the morning after, guys_ , he thought to himself as he scooped up the last of their firewood next to the tent and dropped it unceremoniously onto the smoking pile. Iggy’s and Laura’s eyes shot open wide as they leapt from their chairs, summoning daggers and falchions to their hands and taking a step toward Gladio. Fuck, he hadn’t thought this all the way through. They may’ve fallen asleep out here, but everyone’s senses were on high alert now that they were out of the city and here in the wilderness for the first time.

Dismissing his blades in mortification, Iggy looked first to Gladio, opening his mouth to speak, then to Laura for a moment before allowing his gaze to shift to some random spot on the haven floor. The bright flush spreading across his cheeks as that inhumanly intelligent mind fumbled for something to say was starting to remind Gladio of his own teenage years.

Poor fucker.

“Runnin’ a bit late this morning, Ig?” he asked with a smirk.

“I’d better . . . freshen up a little before starting breakfast,” Iggy mumbled before striding off, not making eye contact with either of them.

Shaking his head and chuckling at finally getting to see the great Ignis Scientia in a flustered state, he turned toward the girl, who had her chin raised up at him with a neutral expression.

“Ignis was just helping me acclimatize my energy patterns to yours, so I won’t make you all uncomfortable anymore. We must have fallen asleep,” she said levelly, but he still took note of the slight blush staining her cheeks.

“Huh,” he said thoughtfully, tilting his head, “so that’s what the kids are calling it these days.”

He decided then and there it was gonna be fun teasing her, if only to see the blush on her face deepen, but maybe this whole thing was as innocent as she was claiming. This was Ice Cold Scientia they were talking about, after all.

“Lemme see what you guys accomplished,” he said, holding out a hand to her.

She grasped it as though she were shaking his hand, and even though he still wanted to summon his sword and slash it across her throat, he had to admit the feeling wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as it was the day before.

“Well whaddya know,” he said, his lips creeping up into a smile. “You feel a little more normal.”

“A little,” she replied in a business-like tone. “A few more sessions with one of you should do the trick.”

He noticed that she didn’t name Ignis specifically, and he felt a little guilty for misreading the situation and jumping to conclusions. Of course the guy would only be too eager to help a lady in distress, even if it left him spending the night in an uncomfortable camp chair. It didn’t matter if it was hours before dawn, the middle of the day, or in the middle of the night—if it was possible to find the guy, he was willing to help out anyone that needed it, even if that assistance did often come with a free lecture or two.

Iggy had returned and was hastily throwing together a cold breakfast at his precious chef’s table he wouldn’t let anyone go near. Without so much as glancing in Gladio’s direction, he said, “You’d better awaken Prompto and His Highness now, if we’re to complete a hunt in addition to Cindy’s errands today.”

“Yeah, no sweat,” he grinned.

Gladio was rarely put in the position to have to wake Noct up; that kinda thing was usually Ignis’s job. He’d been allowed the pleasure exactly once when they’d all stayed too late at Noct’s place and Ig had had a meeting or some shit to get to. Gladio didn’t have the patience Ignis did to let the alarm slowly bring Noct to consciousness, so he’d simply farted on his face. The resulting week-long whine-fest ensured Iggy would never ask for such a favor again, so he must’ve been really distracted this morning to not notice what he was asking and who he was asking to do it.

Now all he had to do was decide whether he wanted to try the farting trick again or go with something more classic, like a wet willy.

***

“And that’s how we get it done!” Gladio bellowed in triumph as he slashed his sword through the neck of their final sabertusk for the day.

Hot damn, they should’ve started doing this years ago! They were all getting pretty good at hitting the moving targets—definitely harder to kill than practice dummies. It turned out that Gladio was made for this shit—hunting out on the open plains, finally letting loose and actually getting to use the sharp part of his blade on something that would bite back, being able to dress like a ‘heathen’ in this gods damn heat—the only bad part about the past several days. But he could stand a little extra sweat in his leather if it meant he could escape his responsibilities for a while. He sure as hell wasn’t interested in rushing back to Insomnia anytime soon.

Ig had already processed one of the anaks by the time Gladio had finished with the sabertusks, and they had just met up in front of the anak Gladio had handled when Iggy paused, tilting his head and frowning down at this animal Gladio had seen for the first time today. It looked fat enough to get some decent cuts of meat off of, but he didn’t see why Iggy was so upset.

“What’s up, Ig?” Gladio asked as he sighed and started working on removing the thing’s haunches.

“Sirloin’s been sliced to ribbons,” Iggy said through gritted teeth as he yanked the leg free and inspected the area on the animal’s side where Gladio and Noct had done the most damage.

And here was the part about Ice Cold Scientia that always pissed everyone off back at the Citadel. It wasn’t enough that they’d killed everything without needing more than a couple of potions, no. They also needed to get master’s degrees in butchery while they were at it. Gods damn, it seemed like he was never satisfied.

“Wait,” Noct said, giving him a disbelieving look. “You mean we’re s’posed to be considering cuts of meat on this thing? No way, Specs.”

“I’m just tryin’ not to die, thanks,” Prompto added.

Gladio let out a sigh. Yeah, it was annoying, but it was best not to piss off the chef. “Point out the areas you want us to avoid. Can’t make any promises though.”

Once Iggy had finished lecturing them on which parts of the animal would be turned to ground meat anyway and which were better served as steaks, butchering the animal as he spoke, he stood straight and said, “I believe that was all we had on our list today. The anaks were quite the windfall. Let us collect Laura and return to the haven for supper.”

Gladio spared a glance just outside the combat area where, predictably, Laura was standing, her face a mask of stoicism as she kept watch. But he was used to this scene, as they had spent the past several days hunting for fun and profit in the area while Cid took his gods damned time fixing the Regalia.

He couldn’t understand why the girl insisted on coming but refused to help. At the very least, she’d stayed true to her word and didn’t say a damn thing about them killing the wildlife; he would’ve ripped her a new one if she’d tried.

She had mentioned something about not being able to protect Noct should something go wrong while she was back at the camp, but then what did she think _he_ was there for? The fact that the King had felt another fighter was necessary on this simple escort mission still rankled. Hadn’t he proven himself a capable Shield? The others had their own positions in addition to combat skills that didn’t overlap with his—the momma and the best friend. But after hearing about her fight with Cor, Gladio knew that she had been assigned to be an assassin, like him, even if she was apparently a card-carrying member of the SPCA or some shit.

Clearly, he was still trying and failing to take the high road and consider it extra safety for his liege. He’d have to do better about that, or this was gonna be a long trip.

There was one way to work off his frustration with her, and she should have the energy for it, as she hadn’t done much today besides some foraging. If what Ignis had said about her combat skill was true, then it was a waste to have her in their group and not take advantage of it. But he had a feeling maybe Cor had been holding back or something. No way could this little girl have taken on Cor the Immortal in a fancy dress. And because of whatever hand holding she and Iggy’d been doing every night, touching her wasn’t as much of an issue anymore. He thought he could handle a little of that weird, crawling feeling deep in his bones if it meant he could defeat her and have something to crow about back home.

“Hey, Laura!” he called out to her as the four of them approached. “Wanna spar tonight before dinner? No weapons, just fists. First one pinned has to do the dishes for Iggy.”

He thought the wager was more than fair, since she’d done the dishes with Iggy every night so far, anyway. She was almost obsessive about cleanliness, just like Iggy. Gladio’d even gotten up a couple of times in the middle of the night to take a piss to find her awake, polishing Iggy’s boots or washing and pressing their clothes with nothing but a bucket and a flat iron pulled from the fire. The first time it happened, she gave a little wave and said something about not needing much sleep.

Six, what a pair they’d make, making sure everyone ate their vegetables and brushed their teeth for at least two minutes before bed before staying up all night scrubbing down the haven with toothbrushes.

Laura’s face relaxed into a more natural expression as they got closer. “Sounds interesting, and I’m sure it’s the only way Ignis is going to get any of _your_ help in the kitchen,” she said accusingly.

“Dayum! We got ourselves a competition going on up in here!” Prompto crowed, jumping up and slapping Gladio on the back. “You’re soooo gonna get it!”

“This _should_ be interesting,” Noct mused. “Pre-dinner entertainment. I like it.”

“Either way, it sounds as though I win,” Ignis added with a sly smile. “Would you mind staging the performance where I may watch from the stove?”

“No problem, Iggy. I’ll make sure you get front row seats to your new dishwasher getting her ass whooped.”

“Ha!” Laura laughed before giving them all a sassy tongue-to-tooth smile, turning her back to them, and sashaying in the direction of their camp. She added an extra sway to her hips that even Gladio could appreciate. Looking over her shoulder flirtatiously, she said, “Remember that cockiness, now, boys. We’ll see who receives an ass whooping.”

Her attempt at mimicking his colorful phrasing sounded awkward in her posh accent, but he had to give her points for trying. Maybe she wasn’t an Iggy clone, after all.

“Looks like Cindy just got a little competition,” Noct said smugly, nodding toward Prompto’s star-struck expression.

“Dude, I think I’m in love. Seriously!”

“You’re in love with _everyone_ ,” Gladio said, rolling his eyes and giving Prompto’s head a little shove.

Gladio had finished clearing out a section of dirt just beyond the haven when Laura emerged from the tent in a pair of black shorts and tank top, her feet bare and her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She walked across the dirt, the tiny rocks dotting the ground apparently not bothering the soles of her feet, and stood at the ready about ten paces from him.

“Kick her ass, Gladio!” Noct cheered.

“Language, Noct!” Iggy called out from the stove as Prompto let out a _whoop_ - _whoop_.

“What, no ball gown this time, Princess?” Gladio teased, leering at her.

“I had more than ten seconds to prepare for this match,” she shot back. “No weapons, no magic. Any other rules I should know about?”

It was probably unfair of him to insist on no weapons, but if Cor couldn’t beat her at the sword, there was no way he could—even if he had been holding back that day. If Gladio could win this fight, though, he’d be able to brag about it to all the Glaives and Guards when they got back, even if he would have to add an asterisk to the victory. 

“Nope, that about covers it,” he said, saluting to Noct and Prompto, who sat watching them from the edge of the haven. “Begin!”

Gladio figured that their almost comical disparity in size would be the deciding factor in this fight. His longer reach would make it easier for him to get a hold of her, and once he did, his superior strength would finish the job. Her size would make her faster, and therefore more difficult to catch, however. Still, he couldn’t see how she planned on taking him down. She was almost a full foot shorter than he was, and he could probably lift her one-handed and throw her halfway across the clearing if he wanted to. Still, he wasn’t going to underestimate her. It would be best if he could end this quickly.

He approached as fast as he could, bringing up the fist of his non-dominant hand at the last moment to surprise her. He may as well have been moving in slow motion, because she ducked his fist easily with a merry laugh and, as she bent lower, used her momentum to swing her left leg up and around from behind her. As he recovered and reached out to grab her, she jumped, swiping that leg across his cheek with a powerful _thwack_ of skin hitting skin. Gladio stumbled backward for a moment, his head swimming a little, and she spun off to his side.

He’d never seen anyone move like that in his life. She seemed to dance faster than his eyes could follow, using some bizarre cross between ballet and a martial art he’d never heard of. Her body twisted and spun away in counter to every move he’d ever learned, almost the moment he had decided to make that move. He swore he even saw her go up on her toes like a fucking ballerina for a moment before kicking him in the chest, but he was too busy contemplating how he was going to get a hold of her to stop and verify.

And all the while, she was giving him this wide, teasing grin and sparkling eyes—like she wasn’t even concentrating on the fight, like she was playing with him.

The moment she took him down was shocking one for Gladio, but he guessed he shouldn’t have been too surprised, given what she’d done to Cor. She caught his neck and jaw with one of her thighs, and he felt her other thigh wrap itself around the back of his head and _twist_ in an alarming way. He fell backward, completely at her mercy. When he crashed to the ground with his neck between her knees and her body landing hard on her side above him, he knew a simple jerk of her powerful legs could snap his neck in two. Still too stunned to say anything, he hit the ground next to him twice, tapping out.

“Whoa,” he heard Prompto say to Noct in an awestruck voice, but he didn’t hear Noct’s reply.

On hearing him tap out, Laura immediately let him go, spinning to her feet and bending to grab his hand and pull him up. “Molto bene! And I believe,” she said between breaths, “you owe Ignis a load of clean dishes.”

“And on that note,” Ignis called out to the four of them, “get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

Gladio watched his boots shuffling in the dirt as they made their way back to the haven together, determined he was gonna learn whatever he had to learn to kick her ass one of these days. Maybe he could convince her to spar with him in the mornings every now and then.

“Sorry about that,” Laura said quietly, “Being the girl, I had to prove myself to you guys, you know?”

He looked over at her in surprise. “I woulda been pissed if you’d thrown it.”

When she looked up at him, he swore she almost looked vulnerable—her eyes wide and a little sad. “So we’re good?”

He grinned down at her. “Yeah, we’re good, Princess.”  

Her answering smile reminded him of when he’d do something to make Iris happy, so he ignored the weird feeling and put his arm around her shoulder.

After they’d eaten, Gladio felt like he was gonna explode by the time the others pulled up their chairs around the makeshift kitchen so Gladio could still be a part of the conversation as he washed up. He’d probably horked down half an anak’s worth of prairie-style skewers . . .  how dare such a fucking tasty-ass animal not come to his attention for the first twenty-three years of his life? Why the hell hadn’t they been serving these in Insomnia all along?

“If you weren’t such a damn genius, you should’ve opened a skewer stand, I swear, Ig,” Gladio grunted as he plunged his hands into the hot water and grabbed one of the plates to wash.

Iggy sat down in his chair with a can of Ebony, immediately reaching out to interlace the fingers of his free hand with Laura’s. Huh, this was the first time they’d done that before everyone went to bed—which either meant they were trying to make things public or prove they had nothing to hide. Gladio caught Noct’s eyes leaving his phone screen more than once to shoot the two an odd look.

“Well, I would like to set my sights somewhat higher than restauranteur, but I take it you enjoyed the skewers, then?”

“Yeah, perfect meal to follow up a kickass spar,” Gladio said with a grin.

Noct let out a laugh, saying, “You mean _getting_ your ass kicked.”

As Iggy let out a disapproving tut, Prompto practically vibrated out of his chair to lean toward Laura. “Seriously, that was incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“It certainly was quite the performance,” Ignis mused.

“What kinda fighting do you call that, anyway?” Prompto asked.

Laura shrugged. “I change my style to fit the opponent I’m fighting. I’ll confess to showing off just a little bit this time,” she said with a grimace in self-deprecation. “This was mostly a combination of ballet, gymnastics, and a mix of about twenty different martial arts I’ve picked up over the years.”

“Hmm. I did take a couple of years of gymnastics myself to improve my form, but I’d never given any thought to turning to ballet for combat. How creative,” Iggy said, tilting his head.

“Oh yes,” Laura said, her expression brightening, “I’ve noticed some of the more acrobatic moves you do, particularly with the polearm. But between the gymnastics and the double-bladed technique, our fighting styles are actually quite similar.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” he mumbled, looking down at his coffee can. “Your style is much more elegant, I believe.”

“Nonsense,” she scoffed. “You’re just lacking my experience is all.”

Ahh, this mysterious experience of hers. They’d speculated on what kind it was. Gladio figured she must’ve been a Shield to the Crown of this Miriásia place before it fell. Iggy refused to speculate until she’d volunteered the information herself. The most outrageous theory had been concocted by Noct and Prompto, who were convinced that she was some kind of orphan raised by Draconian priests in a secluded mountain town. No matter what, though, she never offered any kinda information, and none of them were sure if they really had the right to ask. But since she’d brought the matter up, Gladio figured he’d walk out on a ledge and get her to elaborate.

“So you do have real-life battle experience?”

Her entire face seemed to fall as her gaze turned inward. “Oh yes, quite a bit,” she said in a faraway tone.

Well fuck. He hadn’t meant to make her sad. This was why soldiers didn’t ask shit like that. He should’ve listened to his dad’s advice and kept his mouth shut.

But that must have meant she was about Iris’s age when she went into battle, or even younger. That kinda thing wasn’t unheard of, but gods damn, the thought of his sister in a kingdom-ending war made him sick.

“Why are you holding hands like that?” Noct interrupted suddenly, thankfully changing the subject.

Prompto looked up from his phone eagerly. “It’s for that energy alignment thing, right? You must be doing better at it if Iggy can stand it for this long,” he laughed. “I barely held on for five minutes a few nights ago.”

“Indeed. I’m helping Laura with the issue of her incompatible energy signature. With some luck, her aura won’t be pushing us out of the Regalia tomorrow as we head for Galdin Quay.”

As Gladio set aside another clean plate to dry, he surreptitiously shot a glance to Noct, who leaned back in his chair, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Huh, guess I’ve barely noticed . . . whatever that was, lately. Thought it was cause we weren’t cooped up in the car.”

“I hope to soon reach the point where you no longer notice it at all, even when I touch you,” she said to him.

“And your magic?” Noct asked her. “I noticed you’re not using the armiger.”

She grimaced. “My magic will never be the same here as it is back home, which is frustrating, as your access to the Crystal’s magic is so . . . limited, if you’ll forgive me. I’ll probably continue to store my weapons with my own magic; it doesn’t take much energy to pull them out. But I should start storing some other things in the armiger with yours, if only to familiarize myself with the Crystal’s magic. The King did give me a, well . . . flash run-through of how to use the powers, but that’s no replacement for practice.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how is your magic different?” Ignis asked.

“The energy comes directly from my body instead of being channeled through a crystal,” she replied. “What it can do is defined by the limits of my imagination and my body’s energy.” She moved the palm of her free hand in front of Ignis and whispered, “Ithīr, kithairon.”

With a whine, a bright silver ball of fire in the shape of a round, ruffled blossom small enough to fit in the palm of her hand leapt to life in front of Ignis. Gladio swore he could even smell a sweet floral scent wafting toward him as the edges of the petals flickered in the flames.

“My word,” Ignis breathed, “it’s beautiful.”

Gladio paused in scrubbing the metal skewer sticks free of carbon to stare openly at the unleashed magic in front of him. Only the King and a few Glaives were able to manipulate the elements raw like that, and never in a specific shape, color, or no freaking way scent—what the hell. She held the flame for a few moments before closing her fist and extinguishing it.

“It takes far more energy here to do my magic than anywhere else I’ve ever been, and since my body is attempting to create my energy using nourishment from your land, the conversion process is sloppy and inefficient. A powerful enough spell will drain me completely in such a way that I would not recover, and I could die. Clearly, I need to learn not to rely on those skills in battle; I can’t be passing out when we’re in danger. I’m just not used to operating with all these . . . hindrances,” she said, scrunching her nose with distaste. “I’m hoping the longer I’m here, the easier it’ll get to use my magic, or at least the faster I’ll recover from using complex spells, but I’m not holding out hope.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to rely on good old-fashioned teamwork then to get you through,” Gladio said as he stood to dump out the bucket that was serving as the sink over the edge of the haven.

She nodded, then added, “Which reminds me. Don’t use any of your potions on me should I become incapacitated. I’m not sure what such a concentration of that much foreign magic would do to my system, especially in a vulnerable state.”

“How do you suggest we care for you then?” Ignis asked.

“Just . . . let me be. Hopefully it won’t come to that, but mundane medicine is the best method, in this case.”

They had then all settled into what had become their nightly routines—with Noct, Prompto, and Gladio sitting down to a game of King’s Knight after Gladio had spent some time counting out pushups. Iggy released Laura’s hand for long enough to get himself another can of Ebony, but immediately settled back down to his previous position with one of his wildlife books. Gladio considered pulling out his newest book on tea ceremonies of ancient Lucis, but decided he’d start it another night, cause damn was he worn out.

Before crawling into the tent for the night, Gladio cast Iggy and Laura a glance. It sure as hell looked romantic with the two of them sitting alone by the fire, the orange glow and flickering shadows lighting up the smiles on their faces as they held hands and made comments about whatever they were reading together. No way was this all business. It couldn’t be.

“Kinda weird, seeing Specs touching someone like that,” Noct said, staring at the pair as Gladio settled in his usual spot.

“More than kinda,” Prompto agreed. “I always thought he was a germaphobe or something . . . not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just . . . you know, the cleaning, and since we’ve been out here, the gloves.”

Three pairs of eyes shot back in their direction when Iggy suddenly threw back his head and let out a hearty laugh.

 _What the fuck?_ When was the last time he’d heard Iggy laugh like that? Had he _ever_? What could she have possibly said to make him make that sound?  

It seemed that the world immediately recovered, tilting back on its axis as he dropped his head to his lap, and they all clearly heard him mumble, “Apologies.”

But it looked like Laura was encouraging that shit . . . and good for her. Her lips pulled as wide as they would go, her tongue poked out to touch the top row of her teeth, and her eyes glittered in delight up at Iggy as she shook her head. It looked to Gladio like she was rejecting his apology for laughing, and Gladio hoped he’d listen to her, because Gladio’d told him at least once a day since they’d left that he should relax a little. This was their one and only chance to let loose before they had to go back and be adults.

“It’s cool they’re making friends,” Gladio muttered. “She’s kinda weird, but really not so bad.”

“I’ll be happy when things get back to normal, though,” Noct said, lying back on his pillow with a sigh. “That’s kinda freaking me out.”

Prompto hesitated like he wanted to say something but seemed to decide against it as he rolled over on his side and closed his eyes. Gladio folded his hands behind his head as he leaned back, staring at the dark tent fabric and thinking about what Altissia was gonna be like, but he didn’t fall asleep until he heard Iggy settling into his sleeping bag beside Prompto nearly an hour later.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mild violence/ reference to injury, vomiting, really brief reference to suicidal thoughts.

With a deep sigh that fogged up the glass, Noct leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of the endless desert slipping by and really taking the extra time to appreciate the cool air conditioning. With Laura’s energy thing under control and Iggy willing to keep the driver’s seat to Longwythe and Galdin, Noct was looking forward to making up for all the days Iggy had woken them up at the butt crack of dawn to traipse through the dusty dirt and overly dry air to take out everything in the area that moved. He’d been all for doing some hunting when he got out here, but damn—Iggy’d turned it into work like he did everything else.

“Seriously she’s like, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” Prompto gushed, “like, a real-life goddess!”

“Yeah, well, now you got that picture of her, you can pay your respects to the Grease Monkey Goddess as much as you want,” Noct said without opening his eyes.

“Just be sure to keep both hands in sight while paying your respects, please,” Laura muttered, and Gladio let out a bark of laughter.

“Hey! It’s totally not like that! I’m not like . . . creeping on her or anything!” Prompto protested. “She’s too good for that. I’ll sure miss seeing her once this road trip’s over with.”

“There’s no reason you can’t pay her a visit any time you please,” Gladio said. “I’m sure Cindy’ll be glad to look after your car . . . oh, right.”

“Not funny,” Prompto mumbled.

Noct opened his eyes and leaned forward to look over Laura to where Prompto sat with his arms crossed, pouting. “If you need, I can always lend you the Regalia.”

Prompto’s face transformed instantly—his mouth dropping open as a bright flush spread over his cheeks. “Whoa! I—uh—thanks for the offer, but once we’re back in the Crown City, I think I’d better score my own wheels.”

“Suit yourself, but you’re gonna need a better job than ‘clerk’ to afford one,” Noct reminded him. “And it’s not like there’s a lotta room to move up at a comic book store.”

“I know,” Prompto sighed, looking down at his lap. “I was thinkin’ I could up my game on this trip, maybe make some extra money on the side doing wedding photography and stuff when I get back.”

“Specially if you advertise yourself as the official royal wedding photographer.”

“Really? Me? The _official_ photographer?”

“Sure, why not?” There had to be some benefit to being the groom and the Prince, after all.

“Oh em gee! Now I totally gotta document _everything_.”

“Now you’ve been given royal permission,” Iggy said.

“Well, not much to get now. Already got a bunch of this area. Hey, Laura, since we’re sitting here anyway, you wanna work on that energy thing?”

At Prompto’s words, Noct chanced a look at the rearview mirror, interested to see Iggy’s reaction. He glanced up sharply before immediately turning his eyes back to the road, which didn’t tell Noct much, as Iggy always wanted to know everything about everything that went on. Curious to see if Laura’s closeness with Iggy was in the line of duty or some sort of special treatment, Noct turned to watch her reaction carefully.

When she beamed over at Prompto, Noct had to suppress a smile himself. The guy’s enthusiasm was infectious, and she clearly wasn’t immune to it. It was one of the things Noct liked about him. He didn’t care who you were—always treated everyone the same and was always happy to go along with whatever. He wasn’t all duty and stoicism like Iggy and Gladio, so it was easy for Noct to forget who he was when he hung out with Prompto.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she said gently. “It’s far better now, but you waited too long to tell me last time.”

“Naw, it’s no trouble at all! Won’t catch me complaining about holding a girl’s hand!” He laughed and leaned into her, wrapping his arm around hers and grabbing her hand as Noct had seen Iggy do by the campfire. He settled both their hands in his lap, and Noct had to admit that the scene looked just as intimate with Prompto. “Oh yeah! This is so much better than last time!”

Maybe that was just how she was. Noct wondered if this was a similar scene to the one that got the Crown City so riled up, but he just couldn’t picture his dad holding hands like this with a stranger in the throne room. While his dad had always been fair, he and Noct had shared a more formal relationship ever since he’d started spending more time dealing with the Empire’s crap, so he was fascinated to learn how she’d broken that barrier with him so quickly. Maybe he’d work up the courage to ask her about it someday.

The drive to Longwythe seemed to take no time at all, mostly because Noct had ‘time traveled’ as Gladio liked to call it—code for falling asleep in the car. Once they’d pulled into the motel and dropped off the goods that Cindy’d asked them to deliver, the sound of toenails clicking on the pavement made Noct turn from the worn counter window to spot a familiar black and white dog trotting towards them.

“Umbra!” Noct greeted, crouching to rub behind the dog’s ears and reaching for the journal tucked in his sash.

It had turned out to be a good thing when Luna sent the journal back with him the one time they’d met, since he hadn’t realized that cell phone reception wouldn’t go through the Wall, and he was pretty sure the Empire would be listening in on any kinda landline once Tenebrae had been taken over. But it seemed surreal that it would only be days before he got to talk to her in person for the first time since he was eight—and they’d be getting married. Did that make her his girlfriend now? That was a weird thought, even if he liked her a lot—had liked her since they met. When she’d told him they’d be working together to rid the world of darkness, of course he couldn’t refuse such an amazing girl, even if he really didn’t know what he was promising at the time. He’d decided then and there that no matter what, he’d never let her down.

Not letting her down started with sharing all those letters these past twelve years—giving himself away piece by piece, trusting her not to tease or judge him about his secrets and doubts, appreciating the way she’d always reassured him that he could accomplish everything everyone expected him to. And he felt comfortable talking to her; she didn’t fawn over him like the girls in the city did—didn’t treat him like a prince.

Their marriage though was . . . whatever. The guys kept ragging on him about it—especially Gladio and Prompto—and it was starting to bum him out a little.

After finishing his message to Luna and fending off questions and comments from the guys, Noct decided to meet up with Dave, the hunter they’d saved a few days ago, and the proprietor of the local Crow’s Nest to pick up more assignments. He’d be glad to see Luna again, but he sure as hell wasn’t in a hurry to get married and come back here to be put on the conveyor belt to being a king. And despite Iggy being a pain in the ass and Laura acting as their official royal escort, he had to admit that he was kinda having fun on the road with his friends away from the city and all the scheduling and responsibilities.

Even Iggy had finally seemed to chill out a little—or had at least gotten off Noct’s back some. He’d approved the delay—saying that lodging would only get more expensive in Altissia, and they still had a little bit of a cushion before they had to be there in time for the wedding. But that chill hadn’t extended to the hunts. It was bad enough that Noct wasn’t allowed to go on a road trip without his Shield, Advisor, and an extra bodyguard, but Iggy just _wouldn’t_ back off when they were out in the field—jumping in front of him with his arm flung out, pushing him out of the way, sticking way too close as they tracked their quarry. Didn’t Iggy trust him to handle himself after all the training they’d had? Noct had taken to warping more often just so the guy couldn’t keep up with him.

Like right now. Noct crept silently over the cracked dirt, hunched over with his hands at the ready to summon his sword as he swung his eyes over the terrain in search of a lost hunter’s dog tag for Dave. He could feel Iggy right at his back, his fingers brushing against his t-shirt.

“Just ahead,” Iggy whispered, pointing to the really obvious pack of six sabertusks sniffing frantically at the ground. He positioned himself in front of Noct as they drew closer, holding his arm out as he reminded Noct, “Proceed with caution.”

What was he gonna do if they attacked—push him to safety like some little kid? Screw this sneaking around.

“The hunt is on,” he growled as he raised his sword over his shoulder, threw it over Iggy’s outstretched arm, and warped to the nearest sabertusk just before the blade buried itself between the animal’s ribs. Just as time seemed to return to normal and the whoosh of his warp faded from his ears, Noct thought he could hear Iggy sigh from behind him.

Pain in the ass.

As he drew the blade’s edge across the creature’s neck, Noct glanced quickly around the combat area. Iggy and Gladio had joined the fight while Prompto hung back, taking shots from a distance. When he spotted Laura standing on a high rock overlooking the scene, Noct had to keep from rolling his eyes. Not only did she give off the same babysitter vibe Iggy did, she _still_ refused to join them in the hunts—a stubborn ideal even Iggy thought was ridiculous.

Dismissing his daggers and summoning a polearm, Iggy flipped over the body of a sabertusk Gladio had just killed, landing in a crouch to swing the blade around and jab it into another’s chest.

“Watch the enemies’ movements,” he called out in a clipped tone, “and don’t—”

“Yep. Right. Got it.”

Seriously? ‘Watch the enemies’ movements’? What else was he gonna do, close his eyes and do a dance through the combat area? It wasn’t like he didn’t already know all this stuff, and Iggy was just as experienced as he was in hunting animals.

Damn, but these sabertusks were faster and way more vicious than the ones they’d dealt with in Hammerhead, and even Prompto was having trouble staying off to the sidelines to get a shot as the animals pounded through the combat area, lunging and snapping at them. Noct breathed a sigh of relief as the soothing magic of the potion he’d just cracked over his arm washed over him, stemming the steady drips of blood and healing the claw marks over from his most recent kill as though they’d never been there.

“Say your prayers!” Prompto laughed as he took a shot at the last sabertusk.

Noct was about to warp in to finish it off, but Gladio and Iggy got there first, taking the animal from both sides and driving their steel into its flesh as it let out a final howl.

“Hurry up and let’s find this thing,” Gladio said as he began searching the gray-green underbrush for the dog tag. “Sun’s gonna set soon, and we got a daemon hunt to take care of.”

It took a good fifteen minutes of kicking aside the dry dirt, pushing back spindly bush branches, and walking around giant boulders before Gladio found the dented metal sparkling in the setting sun at the base of a rock formation.  

“It should be dark by the time we get to where those daemons were last spotted,” Laura said, leading them in that direction.

“You actually gonna hunt with us for once?” Noct asked.

He couldn’t decide if the look she gave him in response was hurt or irritation, but he felt kinda bad when she answered, “I said I would.”

When they’d reached the spot, and those seven goblins seemed to drop out of the sky and hit the ground in a puddle of black goop, Noct had to stop and watch in wonder for a second as Laura pulled out her ornate falchions in a flash of silver light and leapt fearlessly right into the middle of all of them. Iggy’d been right: they’d seen a lot of swordplay in their lives, but he’d never seen anyone move the way she did—so fluidly and elegantly.

As she twirled to slash one blade across the belly of one goblin, she stabbed the other out to the side without even having to look in a second goblin’s direction. She seemed to move without thought or hesitation—so swiftly that Noct had trouble analyzing her attacks and retreats as she danced around the combat area. Okay, maybe he could see why his dad thought it would be a good idea to send her along with them besides helping Specs with the chores.

“You gonna help or stare?” Gladio asked as he hustled by to behead one of the daemons with a swipe of his greatsword.

Coming to his senses, Noct joined the fray, but he didn’t let Laura out of sight as they finished up. As much as she’d contributed to the battle, Noct had seen her move faster with Gladio, and she’d had to have moved even faster if she’d really defeated Cor. He got the sense she was holding back but couldn’t figure out why. Did she not want to make them feel bad about their skills? Too late, if that was the case. Noct, Gladio, and Ignis had been trained by some of the best fighters in Insomnia, and yet she outshined them even when she wasn’t really trying. She couldn’t’ve been more than twenty, so how’d she get so good, so fast?

They were all gonna have to up their game if they were gonna keep up with her.

“Gladio got ‘em!” Prompto called out, pointing finger guns at Gladio.

Gladio jammed his sword through the last goblin’s chest into the dirt as he smirked up in Prompto’s direction. “What did you expect?”

“Well done, everyone,” Iggy said, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “Though even with the extra help, I should’ve liked to wrap that up more quickly.”

“Please tell me we don’t have to make camp tonight,” Prompto complained as they headed back in the direction of the little town. “I’m about dead.”

“Yeah, Specs, whaddya say we stay at the motel tonight? I could use a real shower,” Noct said as he leaned toward Iggy, rubbing his hands vigorously through his hair and releasing a cloud of dust all over his coeurl-print shirt.

“Ugh,” Iggy scowled distastefully, brushing off the shiny fabric with a gloved hand. “I suppose we could stay in the motel for tonight. It _is_ much easier to get cleaned up in civilization than out in the wild.”

“All right!” Prompto whooped, bouncing forward on the balls of his feel. “Soft beds, baby!”

They were almost back to the motel—Noct could see it just ahead past a small rise—when Iggy placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

“Saphyrtails,” Iggy said in a low voice, pointing to a writhing pool of black bodies between them and the motel. “They shouldn’t be in this region. Noct, we must take extra care. They may be mad, like the dualhorn from the other day.”

“Looks like that’s your cue to leave, Laura,” Prompto said with a smile as he summoned his pistol.

“Please be careful, you guys,” she said softly.

As Laura made to move back from the combat area, Ignis pulled Noct aside. “Noct, saphyrtails are a formidable enemy at the best of times, but we’ve been out all night, and there are five of them. I suggest we retreat for now.”

“Come on, Specs,” he said with a smirk and summoned his blade. He’d had enough of Iggy’s interfering for one day, and this was the opportunity to up their game he’d been wanting. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Wrapped up in a good book, I should think,” Ignis replied, sighing and summoning his daggers.

If the four of them had been able to gang up on one at a time, they might’ve had a chance, but as soon as Noct warp-struck into the armored side of the smallest saphyrtail and the other three came up from behind for their attack, the other four creatures encircled them, forcing their group to turn their backs to one another and protect themselves from all sides. The clanking of steel against armored claws hurt his ears enough to make his eyes tear up, making it difficult to focus and dodge the clacking pincers and the vicious stingers that dug into his skin with each strike.

In an effort to break their ranks, Noct gathered his strength and tried to warp-strike through them, but gods damnit, he didn’t have enough to pierce through their tough armor. The tip of his sword slid off the shiny exoskeleton and into the dirt with a shriek as he scrabbled after it amidst the snapping claws.

“Don’t try that again,” Gladio advised.

“Can you locate a warp point nearby?” Iggy asked as he jabbed a dagger at a saphyrtail’s claw before leaning to kick another in the . . . face, he guessed?

Noct spun in a quick circle, searching for a high place he could warp to so he could recharge his drained magic and save the guys, but the area surrounding them was completely flat, lacking even a tall boulder for him to get to.

“No!” Noct cried out in frustration.

He was about to batter aside another advancing stinger when the largest saphyrtail took three steps forward, knocking Prompto onto his back.

“Ahh!” Prompto screamed, and Noct tossed his blade into the animal’s back, using his last warp before he hit stasis to give Prompto enough time to scramble backwards.

But as the sparkling blue air disappeared and time returned to normal, that wave of dizziness and fatigue rolled over him, forcing him to his knees.

“Noct!” Prompto screamed again in panic as Noct felt the sharp burn of something piercing his stomach.

He looked down in a daze, noting almost in a detached way that a long, black pincer was sticking out of his middle. It was kinda funny, the way it didn’t even hurt that much . . . until it suddenly did—a lot.

“Noct!” Gladio bellowed, slashing his sword at the saphyrtail’s head.

Noct felt two hands on his shoulders yanking him back from the claw with a sickening squelch as he fell forward onto his face. Sweet Six, was he tired. As he rolled over, trying to clear the fog from his head, he dimly noted the determined faces of the other three over him, their movements a blur as they tried to fight back the onslaught of snapping claws and lunging stingers. The creatures’ attacks had been just as hard on the rest of the group, it seemed, so relentless that they couldn’t even pull out potions to heal themselves, and he wasn’t even sure he could remember how to summon something right now.

“Highness,” Ignis groaned as he fell to his knees next to him, and that fear and pain in his voice stabbed at Noct’s chest. Iggy never faltered, never admitted defeat. Were things really that bad? Noct rolled his head over to see him dragging his bloody legs behind him to come and hover over Noct, holding a dagger up against the assault in a last-ditch effort to protect him to the death.

“Fuck,” Gladio huffed, crouching above them with his sword above his head, his face twisted into a grimace of pain.

Noct couldn’t even see Prompto anymore. They were all gonna die, right here in this moment, because he’d ignored Iggy’s advice.

What had he managed to do with his life so far, really? Sure, he’d gone to school and learned to fight and done everything that was asked of him without complaint. But would they be in this situation if he’d put as much effort in as Gladio and Ignis had their entire lives? Maybe they wouldn’t all be here dying because of a dumbass decision he’d made. Seemed like either of them would’ve made a better prince than he did.

A sudden _whoosh-clang_ of a powerful warp strike and the thud of something large hitting the ground made Noct twitch in pain against the dirt, and at first, he was afraid to look around to see that it’d been the final blow to one of his friends. But the sound repeated four more times over the noise of labored breathing and armored animal against steel, and with each repetition, the stingers biting into his skin and the clacking of claws slowed until they stopped completely.

Thank the gods. What were the odds that they’d run into a random Glaive all the way out here?

“Here, Highness,” Iggy said in a low voice as he cracked a hi-elixir over his middle.

“Thanks, Specs,” he gasped as the pain and exhaustion disappeared immediately, wiping his brain clear of the fog and allowing him to sit up. Iggy was kneeled by his side, his eyes darting manically over him, checking for injuries, but Noct was only interested in discovering who had rescued them.

And there she stood—black blood dripping from her falchions and her body still glowing blue from her last warp. He’d forgotten about Laura—hadn’t even considered her an option during the fight. The second the glow faded, she dismissed her blades, dropped to all fours, and violently emptied the contents of her stomach onto the dusty ground with wracking heaves.

The four of them stood frozen in shock and confusion for a second, staring at her as she convulsed, but Gladio was the first to wake up and reach her, dropping to his knees and holding back the hair that had come loose from her clip so it didn’t trail on the ground.

“Whoa, I didn’t know you could warp! Dude! That was awesome!” Prompto patted her hard on the back, and she began choking—drawing in deep, heaving breaths of air. “Err, sorry,” he muttered sheepishly when Gladio glared up at him.

“All in one piece?” Iggy asked quietly as he pulled Noct to his feet.

“Yeah.”

Iggy gave a sharp nod in response, thankfully choosing not to lecture him, and approached the rest of the group just as Laura was sitting back on her knees. Even in the dim light from the sliver of moon, Noct could see that she was trembling as she tried to breathe slow and deep.

“Are you all right?” Iggy asked her in a soft voice.

She nodded. “I’ll be fine. Quite a number of factors there to make that experience unpleasant. Just give me a moment, please.” She gestured to the circle of bodies lying feet away, her mouth twisting in a grimace. “Go ahead and do what you need to do, Gladio. Thanks for your help.”

Her expression grew clearer as Gladio stood to strip the corpses of anything valuable. Looking up at Iggy and Prompto leaning over her before turning her head to study Noct, she asked, “Is everyone all right? Noctis, you haven’t said anything.”

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks,” he mumbled as his eyes shot down to examine his dusty boot laces. There was so much more he knew he should say, but his head was still spinning from everything that had happened.

“All right, got the goods,” Gladio said from behind him. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

Noct turned and started following Gladio back to the motel, but he stopped abruptly when he heard Laura call out behind him.

“Wait,” she said in a strangled tone. “I need to do something first.”

“We can’t stay here,” Gladio argued. “Every daemon within a five-mile radius will have heard that commotion.”

“Then leave me behind,” she snapped. “But I _need_ to do this.”

Admittedly, they hadn’t known Laura long, but Noct had never seen her lose her temper before, and he felt another stab of guilt that his decision had caused all this shit. He was definitely gonna have to come up with something more to say when they got back to the motel. For now, all they could do to repay her was stick by her side while she did whatever she was gonna do.

“No one’s leaving anyone behind,” Noct said. “We stick together. Least we can do.”

With a solemn nod, she placed her right hand on the top carcass of the pile of hideous creatures that had just tried to kill them all and closed her eyes. They moved back and forth beneath her eyelids as she sucked in a deep slow breath, opened her mouth, and began to sing in a soft, high, voice. Noct didn’t understand a word of her song, but he swore he could feel the regret and repentance hanging heavy in the air as it echoed off the rocks and traveled over the open plains.

He didn’t get it. Was she mourning the animals that had tried to kill them all?

A silver white light blossomed from beneath her hand, covering the creatures in the kind of sparkling magic that definitely didn’t come from the Crystal, and the dirt turned to quicksand as the pile slipped beneath the ground like a sinking ship. Laura’s voice faded after the last pincer had completely disappeared, and she stood—pale and swaying, oblivious to the four of them gaping at her until she finally seemed to catch sight of them.  

“Let’s leave, please,” she said in a choked voice.

***

Noct sat back in his armchair, stabbing half-heatedly at his Kenny’s Original Recipe that Iggy had learned earlier that day and wanted to try out on them all in celebration of being alive. But at the moment, Specs was on one of his tears, and Noct was happy that his temper wasn’t directed at him for once.

“Eat this,” he demanded imperiously, shaking the plate of fish a little in front of Laura’s face.

Laura let out a long sigh, hugging her knees closer to her chest as she shrank back into the corner of the armchair away from the food.

“No, thank you.”

When Ignis pursed his lips and spoke again, Noct knew the tone well—upset and irritated, but still quiet and laced with the kind of disappointment that would either piss Laura off even more or guilt her into doing whatever he asked.

“I haven’t seen you eat a complete meal in the entire time I’ve known you. Please don’t make me resort to physical coercion,” he ground out, brandishing the plate closer to her face.

Laura turned her head away in Noct’s direction, and for a second, she almost looked disgusted. Did she not like Iggy’s cooking?

“Maybe I’ll have some tea later,” she said softly, closing her eyes.

“Please—tea is not nutrition at all. You may be some sort of legendary killer, but even assassins need to eat a well-balanced meal. I _must_ insist you eat this.”

At his words, Laura flinched like he’d slapped her.

Her somber eyes turned hard and glittered with anger and hurt as she said in a low, dark tone, “Ignis? Back. Off. I mean it.” Pushing the plate away, she stood and strode silently out of the room, shutting the front door behind her.

In the silence she left behind, Noct hastily cut into his fish, stabbed the bite, and jammed it into his mouth—chewing enthusiastically so that Iggy wouldn’t turn on him now that she’d left.

With a somewhat violent gesture toward the door Iggy asked, “Are my culinary skills really that lacking that she can’t bring herself to eat anything I make?”

Gladio and Noct chose not to speak up, opting instead to dig into their meals to express their approval of his skills. It was Prompto who hesitantly raised his hand as though asking permission from a harsh teacher to speak.

“Uhhh, hey, man. You know your cooking’s amazing, right? But . . . maybe she just doesn’t eat meat? I mean, you see how weird she is about animals. Plus, you mix the veg into everything so Noct’s gotta eat ‘em, but then she can’t pick around it. And you know how she is. She’s not gonna ask you to make her a special meal.”

Iggy’s eyes snapped to the front door as he inhaled through his nose. After a few seconds of standing there in frozen indecision, he said quietly, “I’m afraid I may have overstepped my bounds. I should go apologize.”

“Leave her, Specs,” Noct spoke up as Iggy took a step toward the door. “Don’t need you pissing her off even more. I gotta talk to her about . . . something else anyway.” He scraped the rest of his fish off his plate, shoveled it into his mouth, and stood.

“Noct,” Ignis said as rested a hand on his arm, stalling his exit. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but please don’t make any rash decisions. I may have pushed her past the bounds of usual politeness. I plead that you place the blame solely on me.”

“Easy there,” he said, with an encouraging smile. “No rash decisions, I promise. I just need to talk to her in private.”

As he opened the door and scanned the motel courtyard, he immediately spotted her sitting on one of the porch chairs a few doors down—her knees drawn up to her chest and her forehead resting on top of them. When he sat down in the crappy white plastic chair across from her, she looked up at him with a weary expression. She didn’t look like she’d been crying, but her eyes were bloodshot. It was probably for the best that Iggy hadn’t been the one to come out here, as he’d probably rather lay down and die at her feet than know his words had nearly brought a girl to tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said, blinking and leaning back farther into the chair, still hugging her knees. “Being called a killer like that—he couldn’t have known that it’s more than a sore spot for me. Still, that was an overreaction. I’ll apologize to him when I go back inside.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said gently. “You know how many times I’ve wanted to do that when he yells at me about my diet?” He was pleased to see her chuckle at his words, but still, she looked so small and so _tired_. “Are you gonna be okay? Don’t think we didn’t notice you used both your magic and the Crystal’s back there.”

She lifted a shoulder in a shrug and rested her chin against her knees. “It’s not like I did anything drastic. I’ll probably need to sleep more than usual for a day or so. The Crystal’s powers don’t drain me as mine do, but they still hurt.”

“Listen, I wanted to . . . you know, thank you for what you did back there. You saved our lives, and I just wanted to . . . I dunno, acknowledge the sacrifice.”

She closed her eyes and nodded. “Thank you. But I was fulfilling my promise to your father. It’s a choice I’ve freely made and stand behind.”

Without any additional input, she suddenly raised her head, lowered her knees, and sat up straight. The regality of her posture caught Noct’s attention, reminding him of his dad when he was about to get a lecture, and he tensed, waiting for her next words.

“I hope you’ve given the others a similar speech tonight. They were all ready to die for you back there.”

“Uh, not really, no,” he said, wincing down at the table between them. “I keep running it back in my head—when I just ignored Iggy’s advice and went for it. We could’ve died.”

She sighed wearily. “Well, you’re young. Frankly, I expected you to do something like this sooner. But now that you’ve done it, make sure you’ve learned from your mistake. Remember that your decisions as a prince, and eventually king, affect the lives of others. Decide when it’s worth it if you die and when it isn’t. Just so you know,” she added lightly, “a group of saphyrtails is _not_ worth it.”

He smiled a little and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. But you sound like you’re speaking from experience. Did you serve as an advisor or something?” It would make sense, given how much she hung out with Iggy.

Laura turned her head away toward the main street, her eyes overly large and the frown on her lips full of mourning.

“I was a queen, once,” she said so quietly that Noct almost hadn’t heard her. “Had the whole ‘fate of the world is resting on your shoulders’ bit and everything, just like you. You’d think fate would learn to stop doing that to children, but no. It happens alarmingly often.”

“What happened?” he croaked, because he had a feeling he knew.

She let out a small, bitter chuckle. “Didn’t Ignis tell you? They all died. Every single one of them. Every person in every kingdom involved in the war died—even the children. And it was all my fault.”

Noct tried to conceal the horror that was pushing his emotions out to his face, but he was too repulsed to give it his full attention. Iggy’d told them that her people had all died in a war, but this was a completely different matter. He’d never really thought about being the Chosen King, whatever that even meant, least of all the consequences should he fail. Apparently, he was staring into the face of it now, and he didn’t like what he saw at all. How would he feel if every person in Insomnia _and_ Niflheim died because of him?

“I wanted to die,” she whispered, almost as if in answer to his last thought. “I would’ve died in the wake of disease that took them all out, too, if it hadn’t been for a quirk of genetics. Well, that and cowardice. Turns out, I’m incapable of taking my own life.”

“I—I’m . . ..”

But she cut him off before he could think of _something_ to say. “You don’t need to say anything. I only tell you this because I want you to really _think_ about your future, Noctis. You need to decide what you’re willing to live, or die, with.”  

She fell silent for a second, idly reaching up to grip the pendant around her neck as the crickets chirped in peaceful mockery of the bleak hole sitting between them. When she spoke again, her voice was steady and sure, as though she hadn’t just told him she’d been responsible for the deaths of thousands or millions of people.

“This is your journey, not mine. I’m here to help, not offer unsolicited advice. There’s just one more thing I need to say, though: Protect your friends with everything you have, and don’t take their sacrifices for granted. You’ll find that life is not worth living if you lose them.

“All the quipping and adventures are great fun, but remember that those men will follow you anywhere and give their lives for yours; you don’t even have to ask. They would’ve done so this very night. They’ve given up their one and only lives to be with you, and that’s a sacrifice that you should hold most precious to your heart. Tell them while you can, in case it’s ever too late.”


	9. Chapter 9

Prompto was ready to pass out and forget everything that had happened as he slumped onto the edge of the bed he, Noct, and Laura would be sharing that night. Leaning back on his arms, he stared up at the faded blue walls and the dozens of mismatched photos of landscapes around Lucis. He could probably do a better job on some of these shots . . . maybe? And there was probably a market for more modern photos of Lucian geography back in Insomnia. It wasn’t like a lot of photographers left the safety the of the Wall with a Crown City made camera to take shots of the outlands.

Prompto heard the front door open and close, and as Laura appeared from the hallway with drooping, bloodshot eyes and a pale face—she froze, looking down at the stained gray carpet for a second before marching past the three of them. Prompto thought he heard a soft “I’m sorry,” as she passed by Ignis, and he must’ve heard right, because Iggy’s eyes widened a fraction as he whipped his head in her direction and opened his mouth like he wanted to say something. He didn’t have time to answer though as she breezed into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. After a few seconds of silence, they could hear the gentle roar of the shower being turned on.

With a twitching frown, Ignis settled carefully into the black armchair in the corner of the room, staring at the bathroom door with a hard, almost angry expression as he gripped the arms tightly.

“Take it easy there,” Gladio advised, eyeing his stiff posture.

Iggy gritted his teeth and shook his head. “Why didn’t I think to ask? I ask _everyone_ I cook for. I just assumed it was because . . . and now . . . whatever the true reason for that reaction, I was most certainly the cause.”

Even though it wasn’t really his business, Prompto was about to tell him that food couldn’t be forced on _everyone_ like he did with Noct, and it wasn’t like she was starving herself in an unhealthy way. Iggy probably didn’t see it because she and Prompto were always on the outer edges of their combat area, but she was always snacking on the peas and stuff that grew wild out here.

But before he could get the words out, Prompto froze when the door opened and closed again, and Noct appeared in the hall, white as a sheet, staring at the three of them as his mouth gaped like a gasping fish.

“Noct?” Iggy asked in concern.

After a few moments, Noct stuttered, “I—You guys . . . I’m . . ..” He looked down at his feet. “Screw it,” he muttered to his boots. “You guys know you’re the best, right?”

Prompto glanced at Iggy as he raised his eyebrows, then Gladio, whose mouth dropped open a little. Whatever they’d talked about out there must’ve been big for Noct to be like this.

“S-sure, buddy,” Prompto finally managed. “Feeling’s mutual, you know.”

Noct sighed, still not looking up from his boots. “Yeah. I know.”

“Hell yeah, we know,” Gladio said as he stood from the bed and pulled Noct into a headlock, rubbing his fist roughly through his spiky black hair.

“Hey,” Noct complained, pulling away and attempting to pull his hair back up straight.

“Indeed. Of course we know. But it’s good to hear once in a while,” Iggy said delicately, his eyes narrowing at Noct. “Still, that must have been quite the chat. Would it be appropriate for you to fill us in?”

***

Six damn. Prompto figured the least he could do after everything they’d heard was to take the middle and let Noct and Laura have the edges of the bed. Noct had already settled on one side of him, staring up at the ceiling with a blank look on his face and an arm thrown across his forehead. He thought about asking if he wanted to play a game before he went to sleep, maybe forget his responsibilities and just be normal for a sec, but he could tell Noct wouldn’t be in the mood. It was easy to see why this Laura thing had shaken him so bad. Prompto himself had tried not to think too much about what Noct would have to do one day, whatever the hell that even was, but hearing what had happened to Laura . . . seemed like they all couldn’t afford not to think about it now.

The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam as Laura stepped into the room—her wet hair seeping dark splotches onto her tight, purple t-shirt and her skin still pink from the hot water. Both Gladio and Iggy stood, approaching her from either side, but Gladio was closer and reached her first, taking her hand.

“Hey,” he said gruffly, giving her one of his rare, soft and serious smiles. “C’mere.”  

Tugging on her hand, he pulled her tightly to his bare chest, and after a second’s hesitation, she brought her hands around his back, burying her face into his skin.

“Just wanna say thanks for comin’ to our rescue tonight.”

She chuckled a little as she pulled back a little and punched him on the shoulder. “Who’s the princess now, eh?”

“Watch it,” he growled. “I’m gonna kick your ass one of these days.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Princess,” she laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

She turned toward the bed but jerked back when she almost ran into Ignis, who’d been watching the exchange with the same silent, stony expression he’d had since Noct had told them what’d happened outside. Of the three of them, Iggy had been the one to take Noct’s news hardest for some reason—probably because they’d been spending so much time together and she hadn’t said anything about it to him yet.

Iggy took a step back, careful not to touch her as he stood tall and rigid. As he inclined his head and fixed her with an intense stare, Prompto thought he might be kinda overdoing it a bit. If he’d been on the receiving end of that look, he would’ve run screaming into the night—daemons or no. Ignis sucked in a breath and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, pursing his lips before trying again. What was the big deal? All he had to do was say, ‘Sorry about not noticing the meat thing’ and move on. Laura had been really nice so far about things, and it wasn’t like what Iggy’d done was unforgivable.

“I . . .. Thank you. You have my eternal gratitude for your assistance today. I must also offer my most sincere apologies for my behavior earlier; I’m afraid I am at your mercy with regards to your censure. Please, let me know should you require anything at all, Your Majesty.”  

Without giving Laura a chance to respond, he bowed deeply like he was being dismissed from a royal court and turned back to his own bed with a bright flush spreading over his cheeks.

 _Yikes_.

Even though Prompto was apparently the only one in the hotel room that wasn’t a noble or a royal, Iggy was so different than all of them. He’d never gone to public school, never hung around with the rest of them after class—or anyone, really. When they went out to the arcade or somewhere to eat, Iggy would always drive and bring reading or paperwork to do. When they spent the night at Noct’s place playing videogames or watching movies, he was either cleaning, cooking, or sitting off to the side typing stuff on his laptop. Most of his day was spent at the Citadel in briefings or meeting with Councilmembers, so he was always super formal, especially with royalty and dignitaries.

Prompto thought that since they’d met Laura first as a regular person, it wouldn’t be such a big deal that she was a queen, but he guessed it was to Iggy. What he’d said to her though had probably been the worst thing he could’ve come up with, if her expression dropping into a sharp, pained frown before almost immediately returning to neutral was anything to go by. She was probably just like Noct—wanting to be treated like a regular person after all she’d been through, which was probably why she hadn’t told them in the first place.

“Hey,” he said with a soft smile as she laid down on her back next to him. He was kinda nervous with her being so close to him wearing nothing but those shorts and that tight t-shirt, her hair still wet and smelling strongly of some kinda floral scent, but if she didn’t mind, he guessed he shouldn’t either.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes dull and half-lidded.

“Hey.” Her voice was so soft it was almost a whisper.

As Noct turned off the light, Prompto struggled to think of some way to thank and comfort her that wouldn’t make her feel uncomfortable in the bed with him. He thought back to the only way he had ever touched her—the way she’d given him permission to touch her. That would be good enough, right? He reached out for her hand in the darkness and grasped her fingers, giving them an extra squeeze of reassurance.

She let out a sigh, and, to his absolute terror, he heard the shuffle of her ugly blanket in the silence as she rolled to her side and leaned toward him.

“Thank you, Prompto,” she whispered in his ear before giving him a chaste peck on the cheek and a squeeze to his hand.

He was glad for the darkness, because he knew that his entire body had gone as red as a Lucian tomato. Inside his head, he was screaming—jumping up and down.

_DUDE. I. WAS JUST KISSED. BY A QUEEN!_

It was some time before he was able to fall asleep.

***

Prompto leaned back in his usual seat in back of the Regalia, raising his face to the bright sun and letting the wind whip his hair practically flat against his head, waking him up. The scenery seemed to change immediately as they left Longwythe and made their way to Galdin Quay—becoming greener and rockier, with high, grassy cliffs on his side of the car and tall, leafy trees peeking out over the ridge line. He summoned his camera and removed the cap in case they came across any cool shots.

As he looked through the viewfinder to get a picture of an incredible view of a jagged cliff face surrounded by lush green grass before they passed it, Prompto jumped a little when he felt Laura’s head slump to his shoulder. He looked down at her, trying to see what was wrong, but he could only see the top of her head.

“Hey,” he said to Noct as quietly as he could and still be heard over the wind. He carefully moved his arm up and around her to poke Noct, but that only made her fall against his chest. Noct looked over at them with his lips quirked into amused smile. “Is she all right?” he asked, hoping Noct could see her face better than he could from this angle.

“Yeah,” Noct said. “Last night was hard on her. Said she’s gonna be like that for a day or so.”

Ahh—the magic. He leaned against the door, pulling her with him so she could stretch a little and get comfortable.

“Well,” he sighed, shooting Noct a self-satisfied smile, “it’s a hardship, but I’ll manage.”

Noct chuckled, “Yeah . . . you poor thing.”

For his part, Prompto was trying to stay calm enough to not fidget and wake her. He knew she wasn’t interested in him in _that_ way; most girls often went for the brooding prince or the flirtatious muscleman. But she’d been nice to them this whole time, even when they hadn’t been, and it made him feel bad that he’d avoided her so much that first day. She’d sought his approval for her place in the group just like she had for the rest of them, and it made him feel warm inside that she considered him one of the team, like an equal to Gladio or Ignis.

Plus, it was nice having a friend that liked him enough to do this with. It wasn’t like his parents were big cuddlers, and neither were any of his friends. It made him feel good that she needed something from him—both the energy thing and this. He couldn’t imagine her sleeping on any of the others if he were the one sitting up front, except maybe Iggy.

Guiltily, his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, and he caught Iggy’s intense gaze for just a moment before the other man looked away. He thought there might’ve been something going on with those two, but now he wasn’t so sure, since she seemed to be okay with being close to everyone. No matter what she may have felt, he was pretty sure there was something there on Iggy’s part. He hoped Iggy didn’t think he was trying to stake a claim on her over him.

Laura was still asleep by the time Iggy turned onto the winding road that overlooked the quay late that afternoon, and Prompto was definitely stiff from holding so still and a little restless from missing out on so many awesome photo opportunities, but he’d never breathe a word to her about it. Actually, she was usually the one pointing out the most non-obvious scenery that made some of his best photos: a flower in the perfect shape of a white star, the contrast between a bright green pea plant and the surrounding brown of the desert, or the sight of Gladio doing stretches against the rising sun. He kinda wanted to wake her up now so she could watch their route down to the beach, with its grand view of the ocean and a huge, curling rock far out to the horizon. He’d never seen the ocean before, and it was incredible just how _big_ and blue it was. He hoped the ferry had an open deck so he could get some good shots on the way to Altissia.

As Iggy carefully backed into one of the covered parking spaces, and the other three got out of the car, Prompto hesitantly squeezed Laura’s shoulder and shook her a little.

“Laura?” She inhaled and raised her eyes to him, and he could see a red spot on her cheek where it had been resting against his chest. “Hey, we made it.”

She shot up quickly, inhaling deeply again and shaking her head as if to clear it. “Have I been on you the entire time? I’m so sorry. You must be so stiff. If it happens again, just push me off, ‘kay?”

“Hey, no,” he said with a reassuring smile. “You’re welcome any time. Won’t catch me complaining about holding a girl either.” He grinned at her before opening the door to get out and stretch, hopping from foot to foot to get his blood moving.

“Think I lost the feeling in my ass back by Saulhend,” Gladio groaned, bending over to touch his toes.

“Indeed,” Iggy said with a nod as Laura got out. Prompto thought the look he gave the two of them was kinda cold before he turned away, leading them toward the boardwalk. Great. Was he mad at them both now? “Let us stretch our legs and walk down to the ferry. We can check the schedules posted; then perhaps we can pick up a few hunts before the ship leaves.”

Prompto didn’t miss the way Laura’s eyes seemed to linger on Iggy’s retreating back for a moment, a frown pulling down the corner of her lips, before she swallowed and followed after them.

As they strolled unhurriedly up the boardwalk to the restaurant and hotel, Noct eyed the dock in the distance. “Think we’ll have time to do some fishing while we’re here?”

“I very much doubt it, but we’ll see,” Iggy replied.

Prompto really, really hoped they’d missed the last ferry for the day. This place looked awesome! The sea breeze was warm and fresh, carrying the scent of some kinda food that smelled really amazing. He bet Noct would really love to get some fishing in, and even though he wasn’t that great a swimmer, it still might’ve been fun to wade in the surf or something while he got shots of that curling rock out on the horizon. Iggy’d mentioned maybe spending the night here at some point. Had they taken too long to get here to still do that? It’d be nice to live in the lap of luxury before he had to go back to his job at the comic store and try to figure out just what the hell he was gonna do with the rest of his life once he’d finished school.

Prompto hadn’t really been paying attention to the guy standing in the middle of the stairs leading to the restaurant until he spoke when their group drew near.

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” he said in an oozy, mocking voice. The strange man’s purplish-red hair glowed oddly in the sun setting over Galdin, and the whacky collection of mismatched clothes and weird patterns made him kinda look like a clown-hobo who’d taken fashion advice from Iggy after he’d had too much wine—especially the white undershirt that reminded Prompto of Altissian blinds, the layers of holey and mismatching patterned scarves, and the faded trench coat.

But it was more than the guy’s clothes or the oily way he smiled that made Prompto take a step back toward Laura—there was something personal and more than a little creepy about his expression as he looked at each of them one by one. He seemed to be sizing them up, and Prompto had to fight the urge to look away and shift from foot to foot as unnaturally golden eyes lingered on his face like he recognized him or something.

“The boats bring you here?” he asked with a swishy hand raised in the air. “Well, they’ll not take you forth.”

Laura stepped between Prompto and the stranger, and his attention snapped to her immediately, his smirk widening as they stared each other down. Prompto would be the first to admit that he wasn’t exactly an expert in body language, but it looked like they were challenging each other or something. Prompto was far more interested in Laura’s reaction, really. She’d gone rigid a few seconds before he’d spotted the guy loitering around the steps, her hands poised at her sides like she was getting ready to summon her falchions. Her tension put Prompto on edge so much that his own fingers were twitching now, ready to call on his pistols immediately should he need them.

“And what’s your story?” Gladio asked suspiciously.

“I’m an impatient traveler, ready to turn ship,” he said casually, strolling through the middle of their group. Laura leapt forward between the stranger and Noct, pushing him behind her and glowering. “The ceasefire’s getting us nowhere, and you boys are no doubt eager to be on your way to _wherever_ you’re going.”

What was going on? Sure, the guy was a creep, but he hadn’t made a move toward anyone. Even when she’d jumped in front of him like that, the guy’d only given her a smug smile in response. Laura was usually super friendly with everyone, including Takka, who wasn’t exactly normal, as jumpy as he was. So what was her deal?

“Actually, we’re just here for the view and the restaurant, but thanks for the info,” she said in a hard voice, and the stranger’s eyes widened a little before exposing his teeth in a slow grin.

“Of course,” he said, touching the brim of his hat. “Forgive me for assuming.”

Actually, that was kind of a good point. How _had_ he known they were there for the ferries? He’d come from inside the restaurant, so there was no way he could have heard Iggy’s comments about checking the schedule all the way from the shack by the parking lot.

“Who are you?” Gladio growled at the man, his eyes narrowing and his fists clenching at his sides.

“A man of no consequence,” he replied airily. The stranger looked directly at Laura, and his smile seemed to grow a fraction. He removed his hat in a flourish at her before turning and ambling down the boardwalk in the direction they had come from.

“What was that about?” Prompto asked when he’d sauntered far enough away. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said in a low voice. “That guy just really rubbed me the wrong way.”

“Yeah,” Gladio said, “he was definitely a creep.”

“His comments about the ceasefire concern me. We’ve been delayed far longer than I anticipated, and I expected the treaty to be signed by now. I do hope everything is still going smoothly in negotiations,” Iggy said with a frown.

“Let’s just look at the schedule and find out if he was lying or not,” Noct said.

But it turned out that the creep had been right. All ferries from Altissia to Lucis had been suspended by Empire, which seemed to really concern Iggy. Luckily, they’d come across a reporter that had the connections to help them out—as long as they helped him out in return. Him blackmailing to out Noct as the Prince was kinda shitty, but it wasn’t like they could miss the wedding with the treaty between two countries riding on it. They had Dino mark the map for his errand before they collected all the bounties they could handle from Coctura and headed out.

“Aww man,” Prompto complained as he dragged his feet back over the boardwalk toward the parking lot. “A lot of her stuff was daemons. Looks like it’s gonna be another all-nighter for us.” He hated being out at night when one of those huge iron giants could cut the ground open in front of them and stomp on them all at any moment.

“Yes, but I believe the bounties from these hunts will be enough to have earned us a little reward,” Iggy said. “We’ll catch some rest at the haven on the beach as soon as we’re finished, and depending on when Dino is able to procure tickets for our passage, we may be able to check in to the hotel. Perhaps we’ll even make a celebration of it and eat at the restaurant.”

“Woohoo! You hear that, Noct? A night in the lap of luxury!”

***

The possibility of encountering more daemons was off the table, at least, as they approached the spot on the map that Dino had marked. The sky was turning the prettiest shade of light blue as the sun was preparing to rise, and he wished they had a better view of it as they hiked across the footbridge that went over the road. Gladio was telling Laura about a prank he’d once pulled, a story Prompto had heard at least five times before, so he stayed quiet and kept an eye out for where Dino’s gem might be hiding.

“So we knew they’d been hookin’ up in the showers after training for like a week now,” Gladio was saying as he elbowed Laura.

“So of course you decided you had to do something about it,” Laura said amusedly.

“Hell yeah! We all shower in there, thank you very much! So Richardson got the idea to take the spice powder outta my Cup Noodle and pour it into the shower head . . ..”

“Oh gods.”

“They. smelled like. chickatrice for like. two days!” Gladio laughed, cracking up so hard he could barely get the words out.

“Those poor people . . ..”

“Hey, that’s life in the Crownsguard—"

_WHOOSH._

Gladio and Laura immediately fell silent as the five of them summoned their weapons and peered into the dim light coming from the end of the rock tunnel they’d just entered—because of _course_ they’d run into something dangerous when they were trapped in a small space. As they crept around the curve of the stone, Prompto spotted a wall of glossy black feathers in the clearing just beyond—moving up and down in time to the deep breaths they were hearing.

That bird. It was totally that enormous bird they’d spotted near Hammerhead while they were hunting a few days ago.

And now they were totally gonna die.

“Oh. Em. Gee,” Prompto panicked, his voice going high and squeaky in a way he always hated, but damnit, that thing was huge. “We’re supposed to get near that thing?”

“Pipe down before you wake it up,” Gladio growled.

Laura dismissed her blades and placed a hand over Noct’s wrist. “I beg of you,” she whispered, “please don’t kill it unless it’s a matter of life and death. It’s sleeping, and we’ve just come in here and—”

Noct nodded and waved for her to be silent. Oh, thank the Six. Did that mean they weren’t gonna attack it? Noct dismissed his sword and motioned for the rest of them to do the same, so Prompto reluctantly put away his pistols. He sure as hell didn’t wanna wake it up, but that didn’t mean he didn’t miss the comfort of the familiar weight of his gun in his hand for the entire hour they sneaked around the bird that was big enough to be a house, looking for Dino’s stupid rock. There were about twenty times when Prompto thought he was gonna piss himself when he thought he saw the bird open its eyes—not that that stopped him from summoning his camera a few times to get some shots of Noct and Gladio crouched in front of the thing as it snored wheezily.

Another great whoosh of breath and a jerk of its ribs sent Prompto stumbling backwards on his ass into the dirt, which only made the bird’s head twitch at the sound. His heart was pounding hard enough to make him feel sick, and he swore he was gonna scream when a hand came outta nowhere from behind him and clamped around his mouth.

“Easy,” Laura whispered into his ear before letting him go and helping him to his feet. “Gladio’s found it. Let’s get out of here.”

Prompto nodded and silently scurried past the creature one last time, following behind Noct and Laura back into the tunnel. It was only once they’d made it back to the Regalia was he able to breathe again, even if he still felt sick and shaky.

“Dino’s totally a jerk!” Prompto broke the silence as the last door shut.

“Least we got the goods,” Noct said with a shrug.

As Laura sat back in the seat and closed her eyes, Prompto leaned forward to stare in disbelief. “Dude! How can you be so calm right now?”

“I dunno. It’s over, I guess?”

“Yes, and now we can get some rest before seeing Dino,” Iggy said as he turned the car out onto the road leading back to Galdin. “Perhaps we should stay in the camper rather than setting up at the haven so as to get right to the business of eating and sleeping.”

“Hell yeah,” Gladio agreed. “Could pass out right now.”

Prompto collapsed against the wall of the little enclosed bench inside the camper when they arrived, trying to stay awake just long enough to eat whatever Iggy was gonna make for breakfast. Laura, who hadn’t spoken a word since she’d urged them to put their weapons away, didn’t even bother with trying to stay conscious and was out like a light the second she flopped onto one of the bunks.

The nausea he’d begun to feel as they escaped the giant bird thing had gotten worse on the drive back to Galdin and was now combining with his heavy head and bleary eyes, but Prompto managed to mumble out an offer to help Iggy with breakfast, which was declined. Did Iggy not like him helping in the kitchen or something? Prompto had noticed he always let Laura help with stuff. Maybe Iggy just thought he was incapable of making toast or something.

But no doubt, the guy was good at what he did. There was something comforting about finishing off a night of hunting with Iggy’s home cooking—something Prompto hadn’t had much of in his life. He hadn’t tried much of Iggy’s food back in Insomnia, but everything had been incredible so far after living off his own salads and crappy attempts at cooking for so long. The eggs were so fluffy, warm, and cheesy—and they were light enough that they seemed to calm his flip-flopping stomach. And the toast—he didn’t know what it was about Iggy’s bread, but it was different from any other bread he’d ever had in his life—sweet, malty, and earthy, almost like it wasn’t even made with wheat from Cleigne at all.

“You really know how to make some great stuff, Iggy,” he mumbled sleepily into his plate, and Gladio nodded in agreement as he shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth.

“That’s very kind of you, thank you,” Iggy said with a small smile, but it fell to a frown when he looked back to the camper.

“Maybe you should take her foraging when she wakes up,” Prompto suggested. Maybe if they spent a little time together, they’d be able to work out whatever was wrong between them. “She’s always nibbling on the plants she knows when we’re walking around. Maybe you could teach her about the ones in this area after we get the tickets from Dino.”

Ignis nodded, keeping his eyes locked on the back of the camper where the bunks were. “A good idea, if we find the time.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Man, I was lookin’ forward to that gourmet seafood,” Noct complained as Ignis led them from the camper that afternoon to the nearby haven. As Dino had been unable to secure them tickets to Altissia until the day after tomorrow, it seemed the wisest course of action to spend one night at the haven and one night at the hotel before they departed.

Of course, it came as no surprise to him that Noct was unhappy about this news.

“Iggy’s right. We gotta save our funds for Altissia. Doubt there’s gonna be any spots to camp there, so we gotta be able to pay a hotel bill until His Highness can get hitched,” Gladio said with a smirk, ruffling Noct’s hair until he slapped his hand away.

“And it isn’t as though our celebration is cancelled,” Ignis replied, shielding his eyes from the bright, hot sun to spot the grey stone of the haven at the end of the beach. “We can still check in to the hotel tomorrow night before we set out the following morning. Besides, the site is stunning—right near the crashing of the ocean waves. We should all sleep well tonight indeed.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Noct mumbled, dragging his feet and kicking up the sand onto the backs of Ignis’s trousers.

At the sound of disappointment in the Prince’s words, Ignis looked back and sent him a smirk from the side of his eye. “Besides, I believe we have bigger fish to fry today. If His Highness can manage us a fresh catch, we may yet be able to come up with a dish that will compete with even the Mother of Pearl.”

“Really? So I can fish this afternoon then?” Noct said, his eyes growing suddenly wide and glittering as a slow smile crept up on his lips, and Ignis smiled warmly in return, pleased to see the rare look of elation that used to grace his face so often when they were children.

“Poor Coctura will never know what hit her,” he heard Laura mumble amusedly from behind him.

Ignis sighed as he walked up the haven ramp. He’d been glad for her silence today and yesterday, for every time she spoke, he was reminded of the sheer mortification that permeated every moment he’d spent with her. He hadn’t been able to manage a personal word to her since the night before last, knowing that he had slept, likely drooling, on the head a sovereign monarch the very first night they’d left the city.

And that was to say nothing of everything else he’d allowed her to do. Though he noticed that she’d never completed another chore directly for Noct after that first day, for which he was grateful, she had spent the last week and a half taking care of his own personal errands, doing prep work for their meals, and assisting with the cleanup afterward. It had been a guilty relief at the time, freeing him up to increase his studies of the area and get more sleep—even engage in better combat, but the shame of knowing that a queen had been pressing his dress shirts and trousers whenever she had found those secret spare moments to do so was too much for him to bear.

Then that she’d been forced to compromise her personal philosophies to compensate for their inadequacies . . . a circumstance which he regretted deeply but respected her highly for. And how had he repaid her? By demanding she eat his meal as though he were a child throwing a tantrum to get attention.

Gods, the indignity of it _all_.

He’d taken the list out of the armiger to keep her from serving him further, but she was already familiar with his routine. So of course it hadn’t stopped her from having a fresh cup of coffee ready for him yesterday morning before they left Longwythe, just as his silence hadn’t kept her from leaving a fresh loaf of bread on the counter before collapsing on her bunk this morning and another steaming cup of coffee as he’d awoken earlier this afternoon. Since she had arisen before the rest of them, he had a feeling he was to find more evidence of her labors as the day progressed.

She seemed to sense his need for space as they set up camp, because she helped Gladio assemble the new tent instead of assisting him with the kitchen equipment as she normally did. Noct and Prompto had decided to start fishing as soon as possible in the hopes of catching enough for dinner, and Ignis, grateful for the reduced audience, allowed them to go without finishing their own tasks. At the very least, he owed it to Laura to take her foraging to make up for his treatment of her, as Prompto had suggested, and he wanted to ask her with as few people around as possible. She never reacted the way he expected her to, as evidenced by the light that seemed to die in her eyes every time he referred to her as ‘Your Majesty,’ so he wasn’t completely certain whether she would be interested or insulted at his request. He’d rather not have too many witnesses.

As to that light in her eyes, he was at a loss for how to handle that as well. He could hardly cease referring to her by her title. He really only used Noct’s given name because they had been raised together as children, and even then, Ignis often used his title from the sheer force of his training.  However, Noct had never displayed pain at its use, either, which made her case an anomaly in Ignis’s eyes.

Having completed his tasks, he took his handkerchief out of his jacket pocket to wipe the sheen that had formed on his brow before turning to where Laura was setting the chairs around the fire ring.

“Would you care to accompany me on a foraging trip, Your Majesty? I am most eager to find some ingredients which our armiger does not yet possess, and I thought you might still be interested in learning more about our kingdom.”  

He thought he could hear Gladio snort at his words, but he ignored his reaction in favor of the woman straightening to stand in front of him. As he had predicted, that shadow of pain flickered across her eyes before they widened in surprise.

“Yes, I think that’s a very good idea,” she said softly, though for some reason, he doubted it was the foraging that she thought would be a good idea.

For the next two hours as they walked together, he was a paragon of professionalism, instructing her on the finer points of finding chocobeans, sweet peppers, and aegir roots among the grassy, breezy cliff faces. Ignis allowed her to lead them, however, in the small hopes that she would reveal one of her unimaginable wonders and include him in the discovery as she’d made a point to do since their first day out of the city.

She did seem to be steering them in a particular direction—past the winding road leading down to the quay and up the natural stone bridges of the cliff faces, and even through his cool demeanor, he couldn’t hold back a secret shiver of anticipation at what she might show him next. Even the walk itself was cleansing to him, as the fresh, salty air made his breath come easier and the sweet relief of some greenery after so many days of desiccated brownness seemed to brighten his vision.

But at the moment, she was upset with him, and as usual, he was at a loss for how to handle the situation.

“Please, Ignis. I know you didn’t bring me out here just to teach me the names of the plants and not even let me lift a finger to help harvest anything. Let me be of some use, please.”

“I wouldn’t hear of it, Your Majesty,” he replied automatically, and he winced inwardly. He really ought to find some more graceful way to handle the situation he had found himself in with her. He’d never met a monarch that despised her title so, but then, he supposed he could understand why, with the death of her people. Perhaps he should rethink his strategy.

Chancing a glance at her, he watched as she halted, her face draining of color. “Please,” she whispered, shaking her head in small, jerky movements. “Don’t do this.”

He decided that a change of topic was the best way forward for now. “Prompto has alerted me to the possibility that I may have overlooked your dietary requirements. I must ask for your forgiveness once again for my abhorrent behavior the other night. I’m afraid I couldn’t discern from your choices thus far if you were vegetarian or vegan, so if you would be so kind as to inform me of your preferences, I shall endeavor to learn all I can to see to your needs.”

She seemed to wither before his eyes, and he wondered at why this simple question could trouble her so.

“Umm . . .,” she began. She closed her eyes and hung her head, cutting off her expression from his view. “Out here in the wild where we gather our own ingredients, I’m vegetarian,” she said tonelessly.

“Very well then,” he said in a cheerful tone in an attempt to get her to smile. “A carnivore and a vegetarian will certainly challenge my culinary skills to rise to new heights.”

When she looked up at him again, the wind beating the strands of her hair that had come loose from her chignon against her face, he could see plainly from her bleak expression that he’d failed.

“You’ve been cold and formal with me since Longwythe. Why?”

“I am merely paying my respects to your station,” he replied, lowering his gaze in deference down to the long, stringy grass at his feet in lieu of calling her by her title.

“You forget, Ignis, I’m not queen of anything any longer.”

“Perhaps not,” he said, looking back at her once again, “but you are still royal. I have a lifetime of training regarding the treatment of royalty that, I’m afraid, is not easily cast aside.”

It pained him to say this, as traveling with her had made him so happy these past days; her companionship and warmth had dispelled the loneliness he’d felt like an unnamable hole inside him his entire life. It wasn’t as though he were truly alone; he’d had Noct and His Majesty, both of whom he loved dearly, but the added complications of their liege-vassal relationship separated him somewhat. He’d grown closer to Gladio and even now Prompto, but close though they had become, these were still relationships of circumstances. Ignis also had the benefit of a blood relation in the Citadel, his Uncle Caeli, even if he couldn’t often take advantage of the familial connection to hear news of his parents. He knew very well he was blessed to have all these kind people in his life.

But he had ceded so much of himself to her in these past few days, and the idea of going back to those sleepless nights, the hours of extra chores, the evenings spent alone—disquieted him, even with the gift of his friends and patchwork family. He found himself yet again questioning every principle his tutors had worked so hard to teach him in order to keep her companionship.

“You don’t seem to have that issue with Noctis, and I don’t want you to be my servant,” she said as she frowned at him.

But he did have that issue with Noct. Torn as he was between raising the boy and serving him, he was always toeing the line between chastising parent, protective older brother, and respectful servant. He knew it was his duty to take care of him and die for him should the need arise, but beyond that, he was still unclear as to his role, even after all these years. It had been ripping him in two—but he had as of yet been unable to choose which he was supposed to be based on the promise he’d given His Majesty as a boy. He’d learned as he grew older, however, to rid himself of any ambiguity in order avoid entangling himself in such a mess ever again.

“Then what do you wish from me?”

Her eyes turned hard as she suddenly reached for his hand and dragged him across the footbridge that arched over the road they’d come in on the day before.

“Come with me,” she said in a rough voice, and he followed, trying not to trip over the rocks hidden in the long grass. He was somewhat dumbfounded by her sudden change of the rules of engagement in this conversation, but certainly interested to see where she would take it.

Ignis couldn’t recall the exact day holding her hand had become more about expressing their friendship than helping her realign; it had merely seemed to happen one day as naturally as breathing, though only when they were alone now that it was no longer a matter of professional assistance. He’d grown accustomed to entwining his fingers with hers each time she would simply grab his hand and pull him off somewhere without a second thought—just as she was doing now.

It was almost as though they were friends. He’d never had a friend, really—someone the same age as he that didn’t need or want to be taken care of . . . an equal. But of course, _that_ particular illusion had come crashing down on him in Longwythe, as she wasn’t an equal, was she?

Without warning, she stopped short in the middle of the footbridge. She didn’t let go of his hand but instead flung her other arm out to the horizon.

“Look at that.”

Focused as he had been on his thoughts and his task, he hadn’t noticed that the sun was beginning to set, and she had just brought them into full view of the quay as the light was turning Angelgard in the distance a dusky purple and setting the choppy waters of the bay on fire. It was, of course, the moment he had been waiting for the entire afternoon, but her harsh tone contrasted too much with the breathtaking view, and he had to take a moment to decide whether to be amused, bemused, or awed. He decided on a combination of the three as he looked down at her azure eyes shining in the early evening light.

“That,” she said, her voice soft, “that’s what I want from you.”

This was why he wanted to keep her so badly—despite his training, despite the fact that his worth could never rise to her higher station. She saw him not as a caricature of a man who enjoyed cooking and cleaning and working without rest, but as a curious man, interested in exploring all life had to offer—because he knew he had experienced so little of life thus far. She had proven her unique view of him on those nights by the fire after having relieved him of the lonelier aspects of his life, when she had asked him not only the standard questions for getting to know a person, but questions no one had ever asked him in his life—questions he himself didn’t always have an answer for. What did he like to do in his spare time? What would he do if he had spare time? What would he want to be if he weren’t an advisor, if he could do or be anything at all? What were some of the little things in life that he loved?

He had repaid her for her thoughtfulness by answering truthfully and thoroughly, telling her details about himself even the Prince didn’t know because he’d simply never asked: how he loved the grace, athleticism, and orchestral music of the ballet and wished he had more time to see the shows; how it would be his dream to travel the world and learn about all the cultures he had studied firsthand; his interest in fashion; his desire to learn anything and everything he could get his hands on; how he admired the quiet, restless beauty of nature—the beauty in all things, really; how he appreciated anything done with style, elegance, a flourish; even mundane things, such as his appreciation for a hot cup of coffee and a warm, flaky croissant on a crisp, fall morning. He’d confessed these knowing with absolute certainty that she wouldn’t laugh or tease, but join in his interest enthusiastically, and she had. And since that first night, she’d gone out of her way to show him any wondrous sight she’d found, including the view he was now taking in.

Laura pulled their entwined hands up near his face, her forearm wrapped around his, and he was instantly brought back to their first night together by the campfire, where he had held her all night as she slept on his chest. He had stayed awake for over an hour that evening, despite his exhaustion, feeling her breath hit his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt and her pulse fluttering like a bird’s wings against his wrist, just as it was now. She leaned forward on her toes and looked up at him so that their noses were nearly touching, and he sucked in a quiet breath, his mind wiped blank.

“This,” she whispered fiercely, the tea-scented air from her lungs washing over him as she squeezed his fingers tightly. “This is what I want from you.”

Ignis squeezed her hand in return, but his heart filled with apprehension. What on Eos could she possibly be implying?

“You see, that’s the issue. As much as this,” he gave their hands a little shake, “intrigues me, I’m afraid I don’t know what it entails.”

Laura searched his face for a long moment, and he wondered what she was attempting to glean from so deep in his psyche. “That’s the beauty of it, Ignis. It entails whatever you want it to. I don’t want anything from you that isn’t given freely and unreservedly.”

Why, oh why did she always say such enigmatic things to him? Her statement hardly cleared up the matter of what she wanted from him, and she couldn’t possibly be saying that he had the choice to take whatever he wanted from her, as any relationship beyond friendship would be unthinkable. A servant could never be worthy of a queen; he would never be worthy of her. For all that he’d been surrounded by allies in his life that were all he had, they’d all needed him for something—mostly to take care of Noct. He’d never felt as though he could be wanted for more than his mind or of what use he could be, but her interest in him for who _he_ was while simultaneously wanting nor demanding nothing from him in return meant everything to him. She’d even taken matters a step further and often gone out of her way to make _him_ smile, to do something for _him_ —a baffling yet touching aspect that he’d treasured. Would that he were more successful in returning the favor.

With everything she’d done for him, at the very least, he couldn’t in good conscience continue to cause her pain like this. If she wanted to continue this friendship as much as he did, what was the harm?

“I don’t want to be a queen to you. I’m not even _your_ queen. Why can’t I be Laura as I was before—just Laura?”

He was a practical man, if anything else, and if a queen directly requested that he call her by her given name, he could not refuse her. As for her friendship, he had time to figure it out. He wondered for a moment who he would become, how much more of his finely-honed etiquette he would cast aside in order to keep her should this trip last much longer.

“Very well, then, Laura,” he said, giving her hand a final squeeze before letting go. “We should be getting back though, before the sun goes down completely and the daemons come out.”

“Not that you and I couldn’t handle them,” she said with a smirk and mischievous sparkling eyes, and he was so delighted to have earned that look from her again that he couldn’t suppress a slight curve of his own lips in response.

“Indeed!” he replied as they began making their way back to the haven.

As they walked back together, Ignis ruminated on all he had learned of and from her so far. As kind as she’d been to them all, there was still something nagging him about her identity—still too much about her that didn’t add up in his mind. He knew in his bones that she hadn’t yet told them the full truth, and he hoped to gather enough evidence, hopefully before they left for Altissia, to force her confession. What she might have to say could very well change everything for them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Canon character death and mildish depictions of violence. I guess you could say there's angst in there too. I would be shocked if anyone didn't know what was coming up, so you can pretty much guarantee there's going to be angst for the next couple of chapters at least.

Regis raised his eyes to the middle distance, and the sight of Lunafreya and Nyx standing protected by his final spell blurred and dripped away as ink splashed with water. He did so regret leaving them behind in a city so completely under siege, but he had little choice in the matter. The forces the Empire had gathered for their attack had been even greater than Regis had expected, and he wondered if it would have been safer for his people if he had simply surrendered as soon as Noctis was safely lost in the Lucian wilderness. But no, it had been vital that absolutely no one, save only his most trusted operative and his Shield, knew that he had already known of Niflheim’s plan.

The pain and seeping cold radiated from the points where the sword had pierced his back and chest, and he closed his eyes for what he knew was the last time in an attempt to block out the sensations. He was surprised to find that, instead of the blackness he usually saw behind his eyelids, _she_ was standing in front of him, the blue, green, and purple aurora if the Crystal space waving lazily behind her. It was almost a peaceful sight, but this couldn’t be death yet. He could still feel his body back in the Citadel, could still smell the acrid smoke, feel the vibrations of his home as it attempted to withstand the barrage of the Empire’s might.

“You’re here. How?” She opened her mind to speak to him, but he shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s time.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I’m here. I’ve been waiting, monitoring the connection with the Crystal so I would know the moment this happened. I’ll not let you go through this alone, Regis. I’m going to stay with you.”

“Will it not hurt?” he asked.

Searching her mind had hurt the both of them more than he could have ever imagined that day, even though both parties were willing participants, and the thought of having a connection like this as one of them died sent a shudder through him. But what did he know? He was no telepath. He wondered why her mind wasn’t setting him on fire this very moment. Perhaps the sword in his back was distracting him from her wrongness.

“Yes, it will hurt,” she said. “But it’s the least I can do—for all you’ve done.”

He was touched by her recognition of his efforts; she would likely be the only one in the world to ever do so, but even after having searched her mind for her motivations, he still couldn’t understand why she was doing this—why she was here when none of this had anything to do with her. But he couldn’t deny how useful her skill and her heart would be in her mission, traits that had eased his mind greatly the moment he’d seen them shining in her head. If anyone could protect his wayward boy as he grew into all he needed to become without interfering too much, it would be her. She, after all, had been through much the same ordeal.

“Are you with my son? Is he safe?” He had wanted to seek out reports on them, but there had been too much to do to save as many of his citizens as he could that he found he couldn’t check his sources at all in the last thirteen days since they’d left.

He could still hear the faraway explosions in the ears of his body, wherever it was, and he prayed to the gods that whoever was left of his people would someday understand why he’d done what he’d done.

“Yes, I’m with them, and they’re all safe. Everything is going to be all right, Regis.”

Too much of his life essence was seeping from his body, and he panicked, his mind grasping for hers, desperate to anchor himself to this world, to everything he’d ever known of existence, for just a moment longer. In response, she wrapped her mind around his like a blanket, holding him as though he were a child, and the pain and seeping cold from his mortal body washed away in the warm comfort of her consciousness. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had comforted him like this, the last time he had allowed anyone to comfort him like this. But his duty was done, and he saw no reason for the need to hold fast and steady any longer.

Their astral bodies stood mere paces apart as she continued to embrace his mind, but after a moment, he could also feel the Lucii shimmer into his perception, hovering just on the edge of his diminishing consciousness. The searing cold steel of their armored claws pulled at him, attempting to pull him away from her, but she held him fast.

“Will you just wait?” she snapped at them. “You’re about to have him for eternity. I think you can manage a couple of minutes for all he’s done for you. Don’t think I won’t fight you for those minutes, either, because I will.”

A flash of amusement struck in his mind, even over his own desolation, at the sight of her scolding an entire line of immortal kings on his behalf. This reason, right here, was why he had chosen to send her with his son. She was the only woman in existence with the power to defend him not only from the darkness he would face, but also from being taken advantage of by their own allies.

She turned back to him then, her lapis eyes wet with sorrow and pity. He began to close his eyes, shutting her pity out, but she reached for his hand, entreating him to look at her.

“I couldn’t even tell him, in the end,” he said shaking his head. “I couldn’t find the words; Astrals know I tried.”

“I promise; one of these days, he’ll understand.”

A sudden desire blossomed in his mind, that his son could understand this very moment, that all the years of hiding his own pain and suffering from the boy that he might be spared the glimpse into his own future could be explained and forgiven. He should have told him everything that day—and how much he loved him, but then how could he be expected to leave that city and do his duty? Regis was concerned for the boy’s resolve enough as it was, and he himself could barely manage the pain of the foreknowledge—had always resented the way it had turned their relationship cold. There had been days when his resolve had grown weak, and he questioned his ability to be the distant, calculating father he had become so that his son would do what needed to be done. But duty had always spurred him to do whatever was necessary, and this had been so very necessary.

“I should have told him when I had the chance. Please, as a final request, will you tell him for me? Tell him everything, including who you are. This comes not as a King’s orders, but a father’s dearest wish.”

Asking this of her was no small request, he knew. Her identity along with her foreknowledge of tonight’s events could possibly be enough to shatter his son’s fragile trust in her. But even if she was likely not to phrase it in such a manner, he wanted his son to know that he had left him with everything he could—with the gift of her protection. They were just more words he regretted not saying before they had left that day.

She nodded. “Yes, I will tell him—your feelings and my identity. I just hope they can find it in their hearts to forgive me.”

“They’re good boys; I believe they will, in time.”

“I believe Ignis already has his suspicions,” she said with a soft smile.

“I warned you about him,” he replied. He was surprised that the boy hadn’t confronted her already on the matter.

Her expression turned serious as she said, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No. The only thing I wish of you now is to continue to watch over him, protect them all,” he said as he closed his eyes. It was at this point he realized that the pain from his mortal wound hadn’t just disappeared, he could no longer feel his body at all, could no longer smell or taste the iron tang of blood, no longer hear the crashing of stone and the screams of his most devoted subjects that had remained to fight for their homes. His body had passed, and his consciousness was now drifting somewhere between the Crystal and her own mind. Had any other man in existence experienced such a phenomenon? The peace he felt made death seem like a much more bearable ordeal to manage—a comforting embrace indeed, in contrast to how long he had feared this moment.

As the nights in Lucis had grown longer and he knew his time was approaching, he would often lie awake in bed, alone for once, and allowed to be paralyzed with fear at the prospect of dying. Would it be slow and painful? Would he have enough time to settle his affairs? He wouldn’t even be offered the comfort of following his dear Aulea into the afterlife, for his essence had to be dragged into the Crystal to become a Lucii, waiting for the day that he would have to perform his final, most despicable duty.

He would beg the Astrals for forgiveness in those moments for binding the lives of three young men—children really—so very young and full of promise, to his son’s fate. He would plead to the gods for mercy on behalf of his people, knowing that no matter what plans he made, countless lives would be lost. They would never understand, his people, and the names of the good men and women who died serving him would forever be sullied for the sacrifices they had made to save the world.

Regis would be able to endure all these sins if the mission succeeded, but failure was the greatest fear that had permeated those final waking moments before sleep, ever since the Crystal had shown him the vision of Noctis setting out on his own. At the very least, that last fear had very suddenly dissipated in an armchair in his study the day he met her, easing the other doubts that plagued him, even if only marginally.

“You have my most solemn word, Regis. I will protect him with my life,” she said, but then her voice grew soft, “until the very end; I will protect all of them.” Her eyes drifted up to the Lucii hovering over them in the rippling aurora. “I cannot keep you here much longer. Come with me,” she said, holding out a hand to him. “There’s one last thing I can do for you, for the both of you.”

He didn’t truly understand what she was asking of him; he was only just barely aware of his astral body in this place. But he took her hand and closed his eyes, feeling their consciousnesses drift over the burning destruction of his most beloved city, the only home he’d ever known; across the desert; and down to the deceptively peaceful shores of Galdin. Memories of his own journey to this place thirty years ago assaulted him in that moment, but he pushed them aside as she guided him into a room of the very hotel he had once stayed in. She brought him to one of the beds, where she, Prompto, and his own dearest son lay, so innocent and so very vulnerable.

“So it worked, then? The Regalia broke down before you could make it to the ferry?” That strategy had been the keystone to his entire plan—ensuring that the car would run long enough to get them out of the city before failing them, hopefully near Hammerhead so they could connect with Cid. He’d given them no funds and no way to reach them on the other side of the Wall so that they’d be forced to eke a living lost in the Lucian wilderness away from the Empire’s gaze, and perhaps grow up a little in the process.

“Yes, your scheme worked perfectly, though I wish you had told me beforehand. I did wonder why a royal vehicle was so poorly maintained until things started panning out. Of course, Ignis almost derailed everything by bringing gil along, but Cid pulled through for you,” she said fondly as she looked over at Ignis asleep on the other bed. “Took him forever to fix that car, and he charged us a fortune.”

His gaze followed hers, and his heart clenched that he wouldn’t have the time to say goodbye to Ignis, who had who had taken care of his boy so completely and with so much love when he himself couldn’t. The boy had become a second son to him as he watched them grow up together, and it was the source of yet more regret that he’d never breathed a word to the young man about it.

“Dear Ignis, my boy . . ..”

“I’ll find a way to let him know as well,” she said softly, her eyes large and solemn. “But you must hurry. I cannot keep you together much longer.”

Regis looked back down, his eyes lingering on his son’s sleeping face for the last time—at least for a long while. “I shall be with you, always,” he whispered, brushing his fingertips against the boy’s forehead before leaning in to do the same with his lips. Astrals, he wished he’d had more time.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but it’s time. Rest now, Regis. We’ll take it from here.” As he stood to face her, she placed a gentle hand on his cheek and brought his forehead down to her lips briefly.

The pull of the Lucii became too strong in that moment, and he held his eyes steady on his son’s face as he disentangled himself from the embrace of her mind so as not to cause her more pain than he had already. Immediately, the hotel room melted around them until they were standing once again in the aurora of the Crystal space.

“Thank you,” he called out to her as he closed his eyes and mind one last time, finally allowing his ancestors to pull him forward.

 


	12. Chapter 12

The first thing Ignis did when he opened his eyes was lift his head to glance over at the other bed. Noct was, of course, sound asleep, even if his pillow looked as though it had been trampled to death by a herd of wild dualhorns. He sympathized with Prompto, who couldn’t possibly be having an easy time of it resting next to the violent sleeper. Ignis himself had lost many an hour as a child from the Prince’s tossings and turnings.

He was surprised to find Laura still asleep on the side closest to him. In the two weeks he had known her, he had never seen her unconscious in the morning, though he had tried his best to witness the phenomenon. She had always stayed up later and begun her day earlier than even he, so this was the first time he’d had to truly study her face stripped away of its consciousness without being caught by the others. Gazing at her profile in the light of the rising sun, he thought she looked pale as death and so very still. Again, he wondered if she were concealing some illness from them all. It wouldn’t be all she was concealing.

While she had spent most of the day before with Prompto and Gladio on the beach, teaching the both of them new self-defense techniques and taking pictures of the scenery, Ignis had spent most of the day keeping Noct company as he fished. In the quiet moments when Noct was trying to hook ‘the big one,’ Ignis’s mind wandered to all that didn’t add up about Laura, and he had reached the sinister conclusion that she was hiding something from all of them—something profound.

Ignis was well aware of how much time it took up, the day to day business of being a ruling monarch in wartime. Those duties left little time for pursuing other hobbies, interests, or skills, particularly when the monarch ascends at such a tender age as she. Laura couldn’t have been a day older than twenty-five, and yet she was a master of the blade and elements—as much of a betrayal as it felt to say in his own head—even beyond the skills of those of His Majesty. And that was to say nothing of her ease in social situations; her breadmaking; or her skills in ballet, martial arts, and machinery. When had she managed to acquire such a wide variety of abilities with such adeptness in the short time she’d been alive?

Ignis understood that he didn’t know much about the world outside of Lucis, except for the diplomacy necessary to maintain relations with nearby countries. There was only so much information that could be crammed into even an eidetic memory such as his in twenty-two years, after all. But Eos was a small world. He knew the geography of the globe, at the very least, and he had never heard of the country of Miriásia. The news of a kingdom, let alone _multiple_ kingdoms, going extinct from the scourge as she had described would have no doubt reached even the deafest of ears in the Insomnian populace. 

And then what had the young queen done after the death of her people? Made her way to the kingdom of Lucis, the land that caused her such pain, and pledged herself to the King? And His Majesty, after having witnessed her weapons prowess and her ability to sneak past his guards, decided it necessary to have her accompany his son to his wedding? This was the portion of the narrative that gave him pause. No matter what, Ignis trusted the King’s judgment without qualification, and he had clearly endorsed Laura the day she’d fought the Marshal and again the next morning when they left. Whatever the inconsistencies of her story, her confession couldn’t be completely damning. Still, it was his duty for the safety of the Prince to bring these inconsistencies into the light, despite how much she may have done for him personally.  

A sharp gasp interrupted his thoughts, and he looked over again at Laura, who seemed to have awakened as though she had just clawed herself back from death’s embrace itself. Her eyes were wide, sightless, and rolling in her head; her back arched off the bed; and her mouth open in a silent scream. It was shocking that for all the violence of her awakening, she had barely managed a sound beyond that of her initial inhalation.

“Laura, is everything all right?” he asked before swinging his feet over the side of the bed and crouching down next to where she lay panting. She seemed not to see or hear him for a moment, and he was about to ask again when she finally became aware of his presence and faced him.

Tears were swimming in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Ignis,” she breathed. “No. Absolutely nothing is all right.” He stood and backed away as she sat up on the edge of the bed. She held his gaze with her watery eyes as she searched his face for a moment. “Oh gods, how will you all ever forgive me?”

He shook his head at her. “Laura, you’re not making any sense. You’ve just had a nightmare. Why don’t you get changed, and we can go for a walk to calm down so we don’t wake the others?” Perhaps, if she calmed down enough, he could confront her about her inconsistencies before approaching the group.

To his utter confusion, she shook her head vehemently and reached carefully under Prompto’s pillow, pulling out his phone. She flipped it over and began taking the back cover off. “We have work to do. I know you’ve been suspicious of me lately, and for good reason, but I need you to trust me for just a little longer. We have to keep Noctis safe. Help me take all the batteries out of the phones, starting with Noctis’s.”

If the goal was to protect Noct, then he would of course obey without question, even if this did turn out to be a figment of her imagination. As he strode to the other side of the bed where Noct kept his phone on the bedside table, he asked softly, “If our lives are in danger, shouldn’t we wake the others?”

“Not yet. Today is going to be devastating to all of you, and this may yet be the last moment of peaceful sleep they get for some time.”

Despite the fact that she was likely reacting to a nightmare, her words sent a frisson of fear through him. He’d never known her to be wrong about anything so far, and her expression combined with her bleak tone foretold of something crushing for them all on the horizon. He hoped that whatever it was wouldn’t affect Noct as much as he feared; the young Prince had enough on his shoulders.

Once they’d finished with the phones, they took turns changing in the en suite bathroom before she led him out the door. It was only once the door had closed that he felt free to express his impatience.

“Would you care to tell me what’s going on? Why did we just do that? And where are we going now?”

Her eyes were darting around the seating area of the restaurant, looking for something. “I doubt the Empire has had the resources to commit to tracking us down just yet, given all that’s happened, but I thought it would be safer to remove the batteries, just in case.”

“Why would the Empire be tracking us? What is it that you think has happened?” he said, feeling his impatience for her grow, but he bit it back the feeling and kept his tone calm. The amount of time it was taking to sign the treaty had been concerning him greatly as of late, and he wondered if something had gone wrong. Still, he couldn’t see how she could have gotten news between going to bed last night and waking up this morning.

She seemed not to have found whatever it was she was looking for, so she headed to the chef behind the counter.

“Hey, Coctura, do you happen to have your paper this morning? You can keep your crossword page; I just need the front, please.”

Coctura’s lip was trembling as she bent below the counter and handed Laura the folded-up paper. “Here,” she said in a voice that was almost a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

Laura’s face hardened into a serious expression as she locked eyes with the chef. “Don’t breathe a word to anyone, do you hear? Let Dino know too, and anyone else who thinks they know who we are. Tell them they’ll have me to deal with if they let anything slip to anyone.”

Coctura nodded, and Laura guided him to one of the tables and sat down.

“You are beginning to try even my patience,” Ignis muttered. Queen or not, if Noct’s life were truly in danger, they would need to act now, and this lack of information was putting him on edge.

“We’re safe for the moment, but that depends on which reckless thing you all decide to do after this,” she replied. He was about to open his mouth to argue with her, but she sighed and slid the folded paper in front of him. “Ignis, words cannot express how truly sorry I am, but know that I am here for you all—whatever you need.”

He unfolded the paper, and the headline written there in bold, black ink seemed to seep directly into his mind, shrouding it in overwhelming darkness and stilling it completely.

**Insomnia Falls**

Desperate, he read the rest of the article as quickly as he could, allowing his eyes to pass over the facts presented on paper but not truly taking them into his heart: the treaty failed, Insomnia betrayed, the King . . . dead.

“This can’t be real,” he whispered, but as he glanced around at the other somber diners, he saw that they were all sitting in horrified silence, reading their own papers with similar headlines splashed across the pages. “This has to be some misunderstanding.”

“I’m afraid not,” she said quietly. “Are you all right?”

Was he all right? For the time being, yes, he was. He couldn’t allow himself a moment to grieve for their losses, if they were even real, because the only way of moving forward was to present this information to the others immediately. With a duty to perform, he could cast aside the grief he felt flooding his chest below the surface of his composure. His training also allowed space for his mind to work furiously and put the pieces together, coming to one, very obvious conclusion.

His gaze shot to her face, drawn, pale, and devastated, but he could not find it in his heart to feel that sorrow with her. “You knew,” he accused, narrowing his eyes at her. “You knew all along.”

As he’d spent much of the previous day poring over every interaction with her, it was only too easy to recall the instances where she’d displayed evidence of her foreknowledge: the look on her face when the girl in Hammerhead said what her father did for a living and her surety when she expressed that she was on the brink of another war. She’d known nothing of their society when she’d joined them, and yet she was so well-versed in their political entanglements. There was no other conclusion to draw.

She lowered her gaze to the table, and after a moment, she closed her eyes and nodded. Oh gods, she hadn’t been involved, had she? But no, he _must_ keep in mind that the King ordered her to come with them. He kept silent, waiting for her explanation.

“I did. As did Regis, and perhaps one or two others. I think Cid suspected—he’s nearly as brilliant as you are, if a lot more experienced—but I’m not sure.”

Ignis thought back to the King’s behavior in the days leading up to their departure. Though His Majesty had been perfectly composed to the untrained eye, he could see that his liege was distracted. At the time, he had attributed it to the preparation needed for the treaty signing, but the way the King had chased after them when Noct left the throne room and the weight of his words as he asked the Prince if he was “ready to leave home behind . . ..”

“Did he order you to keep your silence?” It was an obvious question, but he would infer nothing from a conversation with such high stakes.

She nodded. “Yes, but no longer. He wanted me to reveal everything after this happened.” She reached her hand across the table seemingly to place over his own, but she stopped short, likely afraid of how he would react. She settled for letting her hand lie near his as she looked into his eyes. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but I beg you to keep silent about your suspicions of me, whatever they are, for just a while longer. Trust in your King’s judgment for now, and know that your silence is for Noct’s safety alone. I’m going to need the group’s trust for whatever insanity is likely to result from this news, and I need to be the one to control who knows what and when. Please, Ignis.”

Her hand did finally brush against his fingers, and he allowed the contact, though neither in support nor denial of her words. She stood and leaned across the little table, her eyes arresting his.

“I swear to you, on everything I am, on anything you wish me to, I was sent to protect you all. I mean you no harm. And when this day is over, I promise I will tell you all who, and what I am.”

He had no choice but to trust her, given her actions towards them thus far and the fact that it was his King’s wish. He pulled his hand away and spoke.

“Very well, you have my silence, for now. But know that I shall be watching you very closely today, and if any part of your story proves untrue, if you have in fact betrayed us, know that I will find some way to put a blade in you, despite your skill and supposed station. And I will take great relish in it.”

Her expression remained serious and calm as she nodded. “I understand.”

“Then let us go tell the others.”

***

Though Laura was vehemently against their return to Insomnia, Ignis could completely understand the others’ disbelief and need to see it with their own eyes. He himself had that same desire despite the inadvisability of the act. The ride was silent, except for the whine of the windshield wipers, and strained as they all sat stiffly in their seats. Ignis squinted into the haze of rain on the horizon, his senses on high alert for any blockades or ambushes as they drew closer.

“We need to stop in Hammerhead and see if we can get at least one burner phone,” she said quietly. “If the Empire has the means to track your phones, none of them will be safe to use again.”

“I don’t believe the Empire was aware of the identities of the Prince’s retinue, so our phones are likely safe. However, it would be prudent to solicit Cid’s advice on the matter,” he replied. As Cid had once been a member of His Majesty’s retinue during his own journey and had a long history with the King, unlike Laura, he would be a trustworthy source for guidance despite his own supposed foreknowledge.

“While getting Cid’s advice is a good idea, it’s actually Cindy you want to talk to about the phones,” she replied. “She’s a mechanic by day, but a hobbyist engineer by night. From the way she talks, that woman could probably cobble together a working phone with a tea kettle and some string.”

Ignis nodded, and Prompto murmured, “I didn’t know that about her.”

The silence took over again for another ten minutes before Laura spoke, “I can’t believe I haven’t thought to ask. Do the three of you have family in the Crown City?”

There was a moment of silence, likely because none of them wanted to think of their losses, but it was Gladio who spoke first. “My father is the King’s Shield. If the King is dead, then so is he. There’s my little sister, though. As soon as we get a phone, I need to find her.”

“My parents live in the Crown City, but I never really see them anymore. I don’t really have any way of knowing whether they made it until we can make some calls,” Prompto said.

Though she already knew much of his history, Ignis replied, “My own parents live on the outskirts of the city, but I haven’t seen them since I was sent away at the age of three to attend school, three years before I met Noct. My uncle worked in the Citadel, however. If the rumors are true, he is likely passed.”

How many years had he worked practically alongside his uncle and not taken more advantage of that familial connection? They’d both had their duties to perform, and even though they tried to schedule a meal together once a week to catch up, one of them would cancel more often than not. His uncle was the only source of updates on his parents as well. It seemed ridiculous now that a mere four-hour drive fighting traffic to the outskirts had kept him away since acquiring his license, but then he had to keep in mind just how all-encompassing, how very all-consuming his duties had been. Until they’d left the city, Ignis had never had what the others referred to as a “day off.” But those few letters he and his mother had shared over the years had still meant the world to him, even if it often took him an entire month to write one in the spare seconds he could find here and there. He vowed to himself that, when his duty was done, he would track them down to learn of their fate.

Laura seemed to know what he was thinking, for she replied to all of them, “I promise you, I’ll help you find them all when this is over.”

Ignis caught her gaze in the rearview mirror and nodded his thanks, though her promise would mean little to him until she had confessed. Gladio and Prompto muttered their half-hearted thanks before it grew silent again. Ignis began to grow more and more concerned for the Prince’s silence in the back seat as the miles flew beneath them.

It wasn’t until they had left Hammerhead with four of Cindy’s doctored SIM cards inserted into their phones that Noct had begun to rant, which, honestly was a relief to Ignis. After Noct had lost his nanny in the marilith attack, the boy had grown sullen and frighteningly silent, completely at odds with the bright, vivacious child Ignis had come to know him as. It had taken years for him to draw Noct out of his shell since that day, and even then, he’d only been partially successful in getting the Prince to feel anything besides depression and apathy. They would all be doomed if he retreated back into that state once again.

“You mustn’t lose faith,” Ignis said emphatically. It was impossible that Laura could know the King didn’t survive. There had to be some small chance that Noct’s father, a man who had been like a father to himself, had managed to make it out of the city alive, even if he was likely the Empire’s primary target.

“Really. Can faith stop a fleet of imperial dreadnoughts?” Noct asked, his voice rising as he gestured to the sky, where, at that moment, yet another dreadnought flew overhead.

“Just give it a rest,” Gladio muttered.

“MY OLD MAN HAD PLENTY OF FAITH,” Noct cried out in a hoarse voice.

Ignis noted Noct’s use of the past tense in his outburst, and he had to take a moment to wrestle down his own grief. If the Prince himself believed the King to be dead—but no, there was still hope. There had to be some hope.

“Don’t be naïve,” Laura said wearily.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Noct countered.

“I mean that your father knew from the moment the Empire brought the treaty forward they were going to use it as a means to infiltrate the city. It was all he could do to get you out and make plans to save as many citizens as he could.”

“What are you talking about?” he demanded. Ignis glanced in the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of their faces, but Laura must have moved, for he could only see one of Noct’s eyes, a hard expression on his face as he stared in Laura’s direction.

“Use your head. Why would Niflheim even offer a treaty when they were slowly wearing Insomnia down? They wanted the Crystal and the Ring for themselves, and what better way to gain access than by being invited directly into the city? And now they have the entire kingdom of Lucis in their grasp, not just the outlands.”

Ignis was shocked to hear her begin this now, with them so close to the city and so very close to fighting whatever they would have to fight to get in. Though he disagreed with her tactics, as well as her surprising lack of tact, he thought it best to keep his silence and listen to this situation play itself out. He himself was gaining new insights into the political situation of his own homeland, and though he’d had his suspicions about this treaty, he wondered why he hadn’t come to these conclusions himself much sooner.

“Why the hell would my father agree to that? Why would he protect me and let his entire kingdom die? What kind of coward was he?”

Ignis heard a shuffling from their direction as Gladio and Prompto yelled out, “Hey!” He slammed on the brakes in the middle of the road and turned to look at the two of them, surreptitiously summoning a dagger in case this was the moment Laura had decided to show her true colors. But as he took in the scene, he saw that she had merely taken the edges of Noct’s jacket into her fists and pulled him close to her blazing eyes.

“Don’t you _ever_ say that about Regis,” she hissed. “Your father was the bravest man I have ever met, and if you ever grow up to become half the man he was, you will be well off indeed.” As she let Noct go, her eyes flicked to Ignis’s, and she nodded subtly at him. Noct, for his part, sat frozen in his seat, staring wide-eyed at Laura.

“It’s all right, Ignis,” she said, gesturing toward the road. He wondered if she had heard the tinkling sound of his summoning over the commotion and hoped the threat of it implied that she didn’t have his complete, unreserved trust just yet. He pressed his foot down on the gas pedal once more, and the Regalia glided smoothly down the rain-soaked road. It wouldn’t be much farther now until their fears were confirmed, but the sight of the Imperial dreadnoughts flying overhead toward the city more than suggested that the reports hadn’t been wrong.

He heard Laura take a deep breath behind him before reciting in a robotic tone, “Regis agreed to it because he had no choice. He knew he had to die, had to find an excuse to get you out of the city, had to sacrifice the lives of his citizens so that you might one day cure the Starscourge and save the remaining population.”

“And how did he know all that? How do you know all this?”

“The Crystal showed us both.”

“The Crystal only communicates with the one with the Ring. Who are you really? _What_ are you? I’m not stupid, you know. There’s so much about you that doesn’t make sense, including whatever went on between you and my dad to make him want to send you with us so suddenly.”

Ignis felt a surge of pride for Noct’s assessment. So many people credited Ignis for being the brains of their operation that they often overlooked the quiet, brooding Prince. There was more going on beneath the surface of those tired sapphire eyes than anyone could know, and it was Ignis’s knowledge of this that made him certain that Noct would succeed in becoming the King of Light.

“Yes,” she said in a low voice, and Ignis noted that even Gladio was nearly completely turned around in the seat to look at her. “I had always planned to do so at some point. I wasn’t trying too hard to hide myself because I wanted you all to know me and trust me. But I was to keep my silence until you were safe.”

It was quiet in the car, with each occupant hanging on to see what her next words would be, but none came.

Noct finally said, “And?”

Ignis heard her scoff. “And we’re about as far from safe as we possibly could be. You’ve all decided that the best course of action is to drive _into_ an invasion in the Crown vehicle dressed in Crownsguard fatigues. All you need is a fracking crown on your head and a royal fanfare to play your entrance. But I’ll abide by your wishes and protect you, even if I think it’s a stupid idea. Just remember what I told you that night in Longwythe. Decide if it’s worth it.”

“Oh yeah,” Noct growled, and even Ignis was surprised at the vehement violence in his tone. He wondered what they were referring to that would evoke such a response. “It’s worth it. But how do we know we can trust you in enemy-occupied territory?”

“Because despite my reservations, I am still going to stand by your side and help you fight your way into whatever mess is awaiting us. And because your father trusted me with your life.”

“Does this mean that your refusal to kill does not extend to MTs, and possibly human Imperial soldiers?” Ignis asked. He’d been trying not to think about what he may have to do in mere minutes, as it could possibly be the first time he would ever have to drive a blade into human flesh. But despite his private reservations, he had no doubts that he could do his duty in retribution for his homeland and King; he’d been allowing the ruthlessness and desire for vengeance to build within him since the moment he’d read that headline in preparation. He wasn’t certain about Laura, however, until she answered.

“Oh yes,” she said, her voice full of venom. “We certainly can’t take back the city, but we’re sure to run into a few soldiers as we get a look. I’ll be there, right beside you all.”

Ignis’s eyes met Gladio’s for a moment. The expression in his whiskey-colored gaze indicated that he was even more suspicious of Laura than Ignis was, which was to be expected, given his role in Noct’s life. He maintained his stiff, turned posture the rest of the drive, intent on leaping into the back seat should Laura prove treasonous. As Ignis approached the Imperial inspection point, crawling with MT armors and soldiers, he prayed to Shiva for the first time in years that they would be able to keep Noct safe through this.


	13. Chapter 13

Even if he lived to be a hundred years old, Ignis would never forget the hour he stood on the edge of that cliff and watched as the only home he’d even known burned. Ash and curling black smoke veiled the once familiar skyline, and the scent of fire and death clouded his brain from even this distance. He stood helpless as fleets of Magitek engines and dreadnoughts flew overhead, and Noct finally received confirmation of their every fear from the Marshal on his mobile.

The King was dead, and judging by the complete destruction of the Wall, any family they had left had either perished or were about to. Lady Iris had very little combat training, and he knew that Prompto’s parents and his own had none to speak of, so they wouldn’t be able to protect themselves from the incoming hordes of daemons when night fell. Ignis could only hope that enough Kingsglaive and Crownsguard survived to protect the people, but with the Marshal having retreated to Hammerhead and Cindy mentioning that many of the Kingsglaive had turned, he tended to doubt it.

Prompto and Gladio paced behind where Noct, Laura, and Ignis stood, dialing and redialing the numbers of their family members. Ignis wished he could call someone, anyone, to check on them, but it turned out that his parents’ number had been disconnected, and the only man who would have the updated information was just as certainly dead as Gladio’s father. His may not have been a family of Shields, but any Scientia in service to the Crown would die for his liege just as surely as an Amicitia; there was no doubt in his mind.

“Got a hold of Iris,” Gladio said in a low voice as he approached them. “She’s with refugees bound for Lestallum.” His voice lowered so that Ignis could barely hear it over the roar of the crafts above them. “Dad didn’t make it, but I already knew that.”

“You have my deepest condolences, Gladio,” he replied, meeting the Shield’s eyes, though his words felt empty. There was nothing that could be said in times such as these.

“Prompto? Have you been able to reach anyone at all?” Laura asked.

She’d been quiet up until this point, likely knowing that her presence was a splinter in the wound of their grief. Still, if she was who she claimed to be, loyal to Lucis, then the guilt must have been tearing at her all day. _Something_ certainly seemed to have summoned a ferocity in her while they engaged the MTs and soldiers, as Ignis had never seen her move that quickly or viciously against an enemy, even when sparring with the Marshal. She had turned gold around the edges as she flashed through the Wall’s old passageways, warp-striking and slashing at men and MTs alike with near reckless abandon. They’d barely needed to use their weapons at all as they jogged after her to the overlook. She’d proven today that, at the very least, she could be trusted with a sword near the Prince, at least in Ignis’s mind.

“No,” Prompto replied his lower lip trembling. “Guess they’re busy with other things.” He let out a half-hearted chuckle and raised his shoulder a little in a shrug. Laura’s expression collapsed to pity as she strode forward and threw her arms around his neck. Ignis certainly couldn’t blame the younger man for returning the embrace, after the events of today.

When they pulled apart, Noct said, “Sorry Prompto, but there’s no point standing around here anymore.” His frosty eyes shifted to Laura as he walked past them. “Now we deal with you.”

As they neared the Regalia, Noct pulled Ignis to the side. “We shouldn’t have this conversation in Hammerhead. The rain’s letting up, so take us to the closest haven, Specs.”

“Will we not be seeing the Marshal today?” Ignis asked. “Intrigued and eager though I am to have this conversation behind us, there’s still work to be done.”

“Probably not. I want this taken care of first,” Noct replied.

“Of course, Highness.” He would’ve liked to have at least made it to Hammerhead that evening to get away from the city, but it was safe enough for them to linger a little while longer. The only good news they had heard on that bloody overlook was that Noct was believed to be dead, so the Empire wouldn’t be searching for him in the closest haven to the city.

As the others set up camp at the wet haven, Ignis turned to his kitchen tables. He was at a loss for serving something that would comfort Noct while simultaneously feeding Laura and satisfying his own nutrition requirements. Finally, he decided that he would cede his own desires and focus on his first two goals, at least for this evening. As he began slicing up potatoes to make dish and chips for them all, he sighed to himself and made a mental note to set aside some time to work on recipes that would meet the entire group’s needs.

As they all got their plates and sat down with their meal, he watched as Laura took a bite of one of her chips. It was difficult to tell, given her distance, but he thought he heard her mutter, “God, these are gorgeous.”

Frustrated with not being certain he could have heard correctly, he couldn’t help but notice the way the chairs were arranged this evening. Instead of placing her chair next to his as she had done every evening they had camped, she had settled across from the four of them as though she were on trial. The four of them sat and waited in stony silence, watching her as she folded her legs in her chair and set the plate of chips in her lap.

After nearly two minutes of heavy and awkward stillness, she spoke, “I don’t even know where to begin. You would think I would after having this conversation so many times in my life, but I never do.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning? Who are you, Laura? If that’s even your name . . .,” Noct retorted.

Her gaze grew flinty as she replied, “First of all, _that’s_ going to stop right now. I’ll admit to keeping many important details from you, but I have _never_ lied to you. Everything you have seen from me, everything I’ve told you so far, has been the absolute truth.”

Ignis allowed himself a cleansing breath. Her confession could have been far more sinister indeed, and in the moments between wrestling with his grief, he had pondered what it would mean to him if the bright, vivacious woman he’d become so close to in these last two weeks had never existed at all—had been an illusion to trick them all into trusting her.

“So . . .,” Noct pushed her to continue.

She cut him off in a voice that cut through the air like steel, “I’m not human.”

“What does that even mean?” Gladio growled in frustration.

Ignis could only sit back in his chair and stare at her, crossing his legs and resting his plate on his shin. If she wasn’t human . . . then Astral. She _had_ to be an Astral. It made sense; the way she looked seemed otherworldly almost. She’d reminded him of Shiva that first night, with her skin glowing blue in the moonlight. He’d given up days ago attempting to remember where he recognized her from, even though it irritated a man of his impeccable memory. But as the idea struck him, he realized she looked nearly identical to the statuette he had in his apartment of Shiva, one of the few personal items he had indulged in besides a single potted plant and all the cookware and books he had received as gifts over the years.

He hadn’t understood at the time why he’d bought the thing; it was an artist’s interpretation of the goddess in one of her messenger forms, not her divine body itself. But the image of her long, black hair; glowing blue eyes; and sweet, gentle smile had spoken to some deep part of him, reminded him of the image he held in his head as a child when he’d prayed to the goddess, so he’d purchased it. Now, perhaps, he was about to learn that the artist had been more realistic in his interpretation than he’d originally believed.

“So what are you then? A messenger of the gods? An Astral?” Ignis asked, leaning forward.

“No, remember? Queen of Palomia? I mean that I’m not from this planet at all,” she replied in a gentler tone, and his mind seemed to cease functioning at her words. Yes, in his haste to explain her past, he’d completely forgotten about her royal status.

“So you’re like, an alien?” Prompto said in awe.

She winced. “That’s not the word I would prefer, but essentially, yes.” She straightened her back and lifted her head. “My full name is Laurelín Tildari Haránathat Ni’annen, last of the Lliamérian, which was the name of my species.”

“You don’t look old enough to be queen of anyone. You look like you’re about my age,” Noct said.

Laura sighed. “Looks can be deceiving. To be honest, I’ve lost track of how old I am. I’ve spent time on planets where the days last anywhere from five minutes to one hundred years. I could leave now, spend a thousand years on a planet three universes away and two thousand years in your future before returning to you tomorrow morning. I’ve lived years that have been undone so that they’re erased from history for everyone but me. If I were forced to make up an estimate, I would say that I’m somewhere in the region of 7200 years old, give or take a couple hundred years.”

“Dude . . . no way,” Prompto said under his breath.

Ignis sat back in his chair, stunned. He couldn’t even begin to fathom the span of it. How much could a single person learn in seven thousand years? And all that power—for all they’d witnessed her do, Ignis had always gotten the sense that she was holding back, and yet she confessed that the Crystal limited her abilities here. What feats was she capable of on another world? This was more than the confession of being a queen; she was essentially admitting to being a goddess, no different from an Astral, really. The idea made him feel so small and insignificant. To her, he must look like a dim, inexperienced child. _My, how the tides have turned_ , he thought to himself mockingly.

“As I told your father when I first arrived in Lucis, I’m a traveler, just passing through, searching for the universe in which I grew up. While I can usually control where I land if I’ve been there before, I lived in that universe before I learned I had these abilities, so I can’t find it. I’ve been jumping—for thousands of years now, searching for home. There’s often trouble in the places I land, so I help when I can.”

Noct leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What about what you said earlier? With the Crystal?”

“The moment I landed in Lucis, your Crystal reached out to me, admittedly to set me on fire at first, as it doesn’t seem to care for my energy any more than you first did. But then I saw a vision of your father being betrayed by the Empire at the signing—saw the city burning.”

“I told you,” Noct said in a clipped tone. “The Crystal doesn’t work like that. It only speaks to the king. I don’t think it would even speak to me without the Ring.”

“That’s because you’re not telepathic,” she said simply. “The Crystal is; the Ring merely assists the king with the connection.”

They’d asked for this—asked for her full confession and wanted her to hold nothing back. If she was telepathic, then every moment Ignis had spent with her as he felt and thought things he never had before had been laid bare to an audience without his permission. Even in this very moment, she could possibly be reading his thoughts, and he did his best to shut his mind off. No moment was safe any longer if she was near.

“Someone tell me this isn’t happening,” Prompto pleaded.

Gladio stood up slowly from his chair and stepped closer to her, summoning his greatsword and staring Laura down with deadly eyes. Ignis himself had nearly reached this point, but her actions towards them thus far had been too kind to not allow her the benefit of the doubt until she had finished. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought that she’d played them all for fools.

“Put the sword away, Gladio, please,” she said in a gentle tone. “I’m obviously not here to hurt any of you.”

At her words, Gladio raised his arm, positioning the sword so that the blade lay across her throat, and she stiffened, inhaling deeply, closing her eyes, and gripping the arms of her chair tightly. Without opening her eyes, she said softly, “You’ll have to strike me down unarmed, I’m afraid, because I will _not_ raise a blade against you.”

“Please, don’t do this,” Prompto whimpered.

Whether Gladio had any intentions of striking or not, it was hardly good form to hold a sword’s edge against the throat of an unarmed woman. But just as he was about to say the Shield’s name, Gladio lowered his arm and stepped back, this time closer to Noct. He stood at the ready, his sword gripped at his side, glaring across the fire at Laura, who had opened her eyes and relaxed her posture, letting out a long, shaky breath.

Noct’s voice was surprisingly calm when he spoke, but Ignis could still hear the anger in it. “So you’ve what? Been spying on our thoughts this whole time? Manipulating us?”

Ignis had read the odd science fiction book to Noct in his youth and was aware that, at least in the realms of fiction, there were several types of telepathy. Perhaps she didn’t have access to their thoughts at every moment. A pernicious idea wormed into his imagination, and though he was loath to poison what were once the happiest nights of his life, he had to know the truth.

“Was that your true motivation for wanting to touch us? To gain access to our thoughts?”

She huffed angrily at them, but as she turned her eyes toward Ignis, they died a little the same way they had when he’d referred to her by her title. “You see? _This_ is why I don’t tell people. I began this conversation stating that all that you have known of me has been the truth. Setting aside the fact that I am not the sort of person to do such a thing, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. The moment I touch your mind, you know. There are no sneak attacks. Of course, I could break into your mind and take what I wanted, but _believe me_ , you would be well aware of what I was doing the entire time.”

Gladio looked over at Noct, likely to see if this were an acceptable explanation. When Noct nodded, Gladio dismissed his sword and sat back down in his camp chair, but he still sat stiffly, ready to jump to his liege’s defense at the potential threat in front of them.

“And let me remind you,” she continued, “ _you_ were the ones who offered, so the accusations of manipulation are quite unfair. I will tell you, though, that I do possess a sort of passive telepathy, which allows me to locate you if you’re nearby and tell the general state of your mood, but I swear to you, it tells me no more than I can tell myself from looking into your eyes.”

It relieved him to hear that he was able to think freely within the confines of his own head again—that she hadn’t been spying on his every thought as he grappled with his darkest weaknesses. There was still a possibility that she could be lying to them, but Ignis was beginning to doubt it. The moments in which she seemed to know so much about them weren’t so insightful that they could only be attributed to the supernatural, and with her knowledge she’d done nothing more than to give them exactly what they needed to feel good about themselves.

“After the vision, I needed to gain context for what I saw, so I did some research at the palace and the library. We saw each other there, Ignis,” she nodded at him.

“Afterward, I had to sneak into the Citadel to warn Regis, as my vision showed that several of his own had turned on him, and I didn’t want to alert the palace guards until I was in front of him. It turned out that he already knew, and had for some time, but neither of us could change his fate. We couldn’t tell a soul or make any plans that would clue the enemy in to our foreknowledge, or we would lose the chance to save anyone.”

Ignis shook his head. “There’s an issue with your story. If you met the King on the day we met in the throne room, as you’re implying, then it’s impossible for you to have gained his trust so thoroughly when he knew he was on the brink of war. You could have been an enemy spy, for all he knew.”

“Ignis,” she sighed. “Did you honestly believe a man as intelligent as Regis would just have me wave some swords around and send me on my merry way with the greatest hope for the world into enemy occupied territory? I allowed him to use the Ring and the Crystal to search my mind, to determine my loyalties, so that he would know that I would do whatever he asked. What he asked was for me protect his son and his friends.”

“See, but that doesn’t make sense either. Why would you do that?” Noct asked.

“Because your father was a good man. For all the pains he took and for how good he was to his people, he didn’t deserve his fate.”

“That’s not enough. I mean you. Why would _you_ protect _us_? This isn’t your world. Hell, this isn’t your universe.”

A shadow passed over her eyes as she considered her next words, and her gaze seemed so far away. Her tone was wistful as she replied quietly, “I do what I do because it’s right. Because it’s decent. And above all, it’s kind. Just that. Just kind.”

There were no words for several moments as the campfire continued to crackle merrily in defiance of the weight of emotions surrounding it, and it must have just grown dark enough, for in the distance, Ignis heard a daemon cut through the skin of the world and bleed into existence.

“He wasn’t alone, in the end,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “That telepathic connection with the Crystal alerted me when it—when it happened. I was able to hold him as he . . . passed. I brought him to where we were in Galdin Quay, and he was able to say goodbye to you.”

Ignis recalled the moment she had awakened this morning, pale as death, gasping for air, and her eyes wet with grief. He glanced over at Noct to gauge his reaction to this news and saw that the Prince had placed his fingertips against his forehead in a peculiar manner, his eyes wide and shimmering.

“I remember. Last night, I dreamed of him. He . . . touched my face.”

She nodded at him. “He might not have said it, but he loved you _dearly_ , Noctis. He wanted me to tell you how proud of you he was, and that he was sorry he never got the chance to tell you himself. Everything he did, including distancing himself from you, was borne as a result of his overwhelming love for you. He wanted so much to tell you everything that day we left, but he couldn’t find the words.”

He shook his head roughly as though to clear it of emotion. Noct’s voice was hard again as he said, “Are there any other secrets you’re keeping from us?”

She leaned forward and shook her head, scoffing, “Noct, I just told you that I am seven _thousand_ years old. Of _course_ I have secrets that would likely upset you just as much as tonight if you knew I had them. And I _hate_ being that person, because I’ve been on the other side of this equation before, but you need to trust that I will tell you everything you need to know when you need to know it. I am sorry, but there’s just too much of me to share all of, especially in one night.”

Noct hung his head to stare at the rough stone of the haven floor. After a moment, he stood and glared at her, his jaw clenched. “Fine. I’m done. You guys coming?” he asked the three of them. Gladio and Prompto nodded, standing.

“I should like to clean up first, but I’ll be along shortly,” Ignis said.

He watched her in silence as the others settled in the tent before he stood to walk across to where she was seated. Her chair was farther from the fire than theirs were, and he shivered a little in his jacket at the sudden drop in temperature.

“Please allow me to take your plate,” he said softly.

“Please, tell me what you’re feeling right now.”

He gaped at her, unable fathom why his mortal opinion should be of any importance to her. “I’m not sure what to feel. I think I believe your story, if that’s what you’re asking.” He paused for a moment before continuing in a harsher tone. “Besides, can’t you tell for yourself?”

Laura shook her head, choosing not to rise to his bait. “I can see your mental ‘facial expressions’ now; you’re all feeling betrayed and grieving, but that’s no more information than anyone else could tell, really. Anything deeper, and I would have to be inside your mind.”

At her words, he allowed himself a moment to imagine what that would feel like, with his permission—her kindness settling in his brain and filling up that yawning hole inside him—but he had no true context for contemplating it. Perhaps one of these days, when he was less raw, he would ask her.

She looked down at the rune-marked floor, and her voice grew soft. “After everything that’s happened today, you all have to sit here and deal with my baggage. I’m so sorry.”

“Well, you certainly provided us with a distraction—Y—” When he had almost added her title automatically to the end of his sentence, he remembered that her status had been elevated far beyond that of a monarch. “Your Majesty,” he said before he let out a breath on a bitter chuckle. “That’s not even your title, is it? How does one refer to a goddess on your world?”

“Thank gods you don’t have an honorific for it,” she said in a bleak voice, still looking at the stone at his feet. “I don’t think I could bear to hear you utter it.” She looked up at him, and her eyes were large and distraught. “I’m not a goddess, Ignis. I’m just a woman, subject to the same feelings and wishes you are. I’m still the same person I was in Galdin, begging you to call me Laura.”

Placing her feet on the floor, she stood from her chair and gave him her plate. She sighed before saying, “I’ll leave you to your thoughts, for now. But I have some things to say to you, things Regis wanted me to say to you, specifically. Come and find me when you’re ready to hear them.” With that, she turned and headed toward the lower levels on the edge of the haven.

As he rushed through the dishes in an effort to carve out some time to hear the King’s final commands to him, he tried to shake off the implications of the words he heard issuing from the tent.

“If she’s not human, does that mean she can’t feel basic things like we can? Can she even feel pain, love, loss?”

“We can’t assume anything anymore.”

“What if she’s faking it? We should leave her behind while we still can.”

“What if she really is reading our minds, and she’s just lying to us about it?”

“What if she’s the one responsible for all of this?”

Ignis himself had experienced every one of these thoughts in some form, so he couldn’t fault the others for voicing them aloud. But he had already made his decisions about her, and they were missing key clues that would affect their decision considerably. They needed to keep her, not just for her wondrous revelations and all she could teach them, but also for Noct’s increased safety and the success of their mission—now more than ever. As he dried and dismissed each dish, he gazed up at the stars and organized his thoughts in preparation.

The glittering sky reminded him of that night—the first, and one of the last, nights that he had believed he had a chance with her. Now . . . well, now he may as well attempt to court Shiva herself. It didn’t matter to him that she wasn’t human, even that she had kept all of this a secret, as she was under orders from the King at the time. The issue was her godhood. He felt so very small in comparison to all she’d seen and all she could do, and no matter what he accomplished in his life, he would never be deserving of even thinking of being with her in such a manner.

When he’d finished with his work and found her, she was perched on one of the lowers levels of the haven, her feet dangling off the edge and her bare toes brushing the dirt. As he drew closer, he could hear her sweet, mellifluous voice singing softly, and he stopped for a moment as he watched a silver stream of light trickling from her hand and landing at her feet. Curious, he took a few steps closer to see what sort of magic she would be sacrificing her energy for at this time of night.

At the sound of his footsteps, her voice halted, and the glow faded as she looked up at him. Ignis moved past her and leaned over the edge to find the focus of her magic, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the tender green tendrils of a sapling reaching up in the moonlight, stretching for her knees like a devoted pet.

A single blossom unfurled before his very eyes, white, luminous, and delicate in the bright moonlight, with what seemed to be a hundred ruffled petals arranged in a circle like the tulle skirt of a ballerina. Ever so carefully, he reached out and brushed the edges of the velvet petals with his fingertips, grateful he hadn’t put his gloves back on after doing the dishes. As the little tree shivered at his touch, that floral scent that had assaulted his senses so many times since meeting her wafted towards him.

“It’s called a kithairon,” she said when he’d turned his awed gaze toward her. “They were one of my favorite flowers where I was born. It’s for Regis.”

She had looked exhausted after her battle today, but she looked downright unhealthy as she said this to him. He chastised himself for not taking better care of her diet, but it was still unwise of her to be wasting her precious resources on something as trivial as grief; he would know from personal experience, as he’d been holding it back all day. For a seven-thousand-year-old goddess, he would have thought she would know better.

“We’re all in mourning right now, and I understand your desire to memorialize him, but I don’t think he would appreciate you wasting your precious resources on gardening for his sake.” 

Of course, she didn’t react as he’d expected, as she met his response with irritation. She slapped the stone at her side, glaring at him. “You think me some sort of supernatural assassin; star-crossed queen; or, gods forbid, a fracking goddess. But that’s not who I am, Ignis. I despise those images of myself. This,” she pointed violently at the blossom, “this is what I am. This was who my people were. I’m a poor testament to their legacy, I admit, but those two hundred years I spent singing and growing and studying were some of the best years of my life.”

He stood and watched her in silence, unable to think of anything to say to soothe her ire, but it seemed to die on its own after a moment as she looked back down at the fledgling tree, so vulnerable and alone in the dry, cracked soil. He wondered if it would even be able to flourish in this harsh environment, as lush as it looked.

“I sang a house once, did you know?” she said in a subdued voice, laced with wistfulness.

He hadn’t known, of course. And he couldn’t fathom exactly how one “sang a house,” but he imagined it had involved something similar to what she had just been doing to that tree.

“I brought a redwood seed from Earth and crossbred it with one of our Arkhein trees from Lliaméra. I scouted the spot, deep in the Palomian forest, next to a lake surrounded by kithairon trees. For two hundred years, I studied and poured myself into that house.

“Gods, you should have seen him—intricate carvings in dark wood, walls lined with shelves bursting with books, enduringly peaceful. His upper floors broke through the forest canopy and overlooked the lake. You could stand outside in the afternoons and touch the quiet in the air. In the fall, the leaves would set the forest afire with a mosaic of color that would reflect in the pool of water, coloring the light that came inside the most breathtaking gold. In the spring, the kithairon trees would bloom and turn the entire shoreline pink, white, and crimson, and the cool breeze would waft their scent right inside. Their petals would fall from the branches like rain, and I would dance in them, bathing myself in their scent. It was times like that I knew, for just a moment, that I was exactly where I belonged.”

Her description of her home sounded like paradise to Ignis, which seemed appropriate, given her status. Still, he wished with all his heart that he could have seen such a stunning sight.

She stood and turned to face him. “That, Ignis Scientia, is who I am. This,” she gestured to the little tree at her feet, “is who I am. Let me have it, if only for a moment.”

He could only nod in response, stunned as he was any time she gave them insight into her past.

She shook her head sadly. “We’ve discussed me more than enough for today. Did you come to hear Regis’s message to you?”

Ignis closed his eyes for a moment and nodded, praying that whatever his King’s final commands were, he would be able to see them out successfully. He already feared he’d failed too many times when it came to his promise that he would always watch over Noct and couldn’t bear the thought of letting him down further.

A warm hand inserted itself into his cold one, the fingers entwining with his, and he opened his eyes to see her gazing at him.

“There were many things he regretted not saying in his life before it was too late, but there were only two people in the world he wanted me to pass a message on to. Ignis, he thought you were the most intelligent, dedicated young man he’d ever met, and he wanted me to thank you personally for looking after Noct so lovingly when he couldn’t. You became more than he could have ever hoped to find in an advisor, and as he watched the two of you grow up together from afar, he came to see you as a second son. He loved you too, Ignis, very much, and he was so very proud of you.”

Though he clung to every syllable that issued from her mouth, he couldn’t continue to hold her gaze as she spoke. This wasn’t a command at all—wasn’t at all what he was expecting. He raised his eyes to the sky, hoping that gravity would keep the tears that were welling in his eyes from falling as he began to retreat from his day-long battle with his anguish.

“I can see you all smothering your grief,” he heard her say. “And while the ability is necessary because it allows you to do what needs to be done, you all need to take a moment, even if it’s only just a moment, to feel it. It’ll tear you apart in the end, if you don’t, believe me. You won’t like who you become.”

She released his hand in that moment, and he tried to grasp after it while still looking up at the peaceful sky. But then the top of her head came into his view, and he felt her arms wrap around his shoulders, her hands resting at the base of his neck and in his hair. He shivered at the sensation—and at that of her warm breath hitting the cool skin of his neck just beneath his collar—and he finally let go, bringing his arms around her body, fisting his fingers in the soft strands that hung at her back, and gripping her as tightly as he could without hurting her as he pressed his face against her sweet-smelling hair.

Oh gods, it was gone—all of it. The only home he’d ever known, most of the people he’d ever met—gone. Everything he had prepared for—the diplomacy, the briefings, the endless nights spent studying everything Noct would need as King—all his devotion focused on preparing for a future that no longer existed had been rendered meaningless. It was all washed away, leaving him with what little family he had left alone in the wilderness with nothing but their steel to protect them—and her.

And His Majesty—of course he would never presume himself a member of the royal family, but his heart ached knowing that the man had felt the same as he and that he would never again hear him refer to him as “my boy.” He’d been so kind to him his entire life, and even if his fond regards had made life in court more difficult for him, Ignis had no regrets. He loved the man as deeply as he did his son, so he would continue to protect Noct with his life as testament to his fealty.

He pulled back from her, removing his glasses so he could wipe away the two tears that had managed to escape despite his best efforts. Placing them back on his face, he raised his eyes to the sky one more time to take a deep, shuddering breath, filling his lungs to the brim with fresh night air.

“Forgive me,” he said, finally daring to look down at her, but her expression was fathomless. She placed a gentle hand over his heart before speaking.

“Don’t ever ask forgiveness for feeling, Ignis, especially with me.” She pressed down on his chest. “This, right here, is why I’m here—for all of you.”

Ignis was reminded yet again that this treatment, no matter how it made him feel, didn’t make him special. She was tending her sworn flock, and he was merely her charge—at the very, very most, a friend. And now that she had done her duty, it was time he did his. She seemed to notice his change in expression, because she stepped back from him suddenly, dropping her hand.

“Go on, then,” she said gently, nodding her head toward the tent. “You need to be there to stand beside him, even if that means denouncing me. I’ll understand.”

He nodded. “Thank you. And goodnight,” he said before bowing his head and turning away.

When he entered the tent and settled into his usual spot, he took a moment to note how much room there was in the larger space without her ensconced between him and Prompto. He knew she wouldn’t be joining them tonight, and, after the conversation the others had been having this evening, he wondered if she ever would. That, at least, was partially in his hands.

“Well, Specs,” Noct said. “I’m sure you could hear our discussion. I bet you’ve got your response already thought out. Let’s have it.”

Ignis took a deep breath. This is who he was—the logician, the strategist, the advisor. He suppressed every emotion that had built up over his time knowing Laura and spoke from his mind only.

“When one is bereft of trust in another person, one must rely on a their character alone to judge them, rather than speculation, opinion, or emotion. Stripping away every interaction we’ve had with her to the mere facts, we can see her heart all too clearly in her actions.

“She fights the darkness and defends the light, placing herself between absolute evil and the defenseless. She lends a hand to those in need, whether for mundane or extraordinary tasks, and sees the value in those individuals that others, including myself, often overlook. She respects life, perhaps a little too much in my personal opinion, but that’s irrelevant for the moment.

“She brought enormous comfort to our King in his final moments, a favor for which I will forever be most grateful. Not to mention, she could have let us all die in Longwythe. If our demise is her goal, she has done a most poor job of it.

“She has even, likely knowing full well what you all have been discussing this evening, sent me back to your side to offer my support of whatever your decision may be. 

“She does all this despite great pain and sacrifice to her person, and I cannot deny the valor of her actions. Besides,” he lifted the corner of his mouth in a small smile, “I have a feeling she would just follow behind us regardless. She made a vow to the King that she would see you through this, and I don’t imagine she would simply cast it aside just because you told her to.

“Given all this, I shall, of course, Your Highness, defer to your decision, whatever that may be.”

“Umm, wow,” Prompto whispered, and Gladio grunted, though Ignis couldn’t tell whether it was in agreement or disbelief.

It seemed an eternity before Noct finally spoke, “Well, hell, Specs. How could I do anything but keep her with us after all that?”

“My apologies, Highness. It wasn’t my intention to manipulate your decision, but I felt that someone should defend her if she couldn’t be here to speak for herself.”

Noct’s expression softened into a smile. “You’re a good friend. No matter where I am, Iggy, I hope I’ll always have you by my side.”

Ignis suspected that Noct hadn’t disclosed the full contents of his and Laura’s conversation in Longwythe, as his more expressive behavior of late couldn’t be explained by the story he’d told them. But as the shadow of that lively, loving child shone through his eyes, despite the agony of today, Ignis could only return the sentiment.

“To hell and back again, Noct, there is nowhere else I would ever be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laura has actually been with me for years. She's a character I walk through the universes of all the fandoms that hold my interest (but up until now, only in my head), and since her backstory follows her into each new universe, it's complex. You'll get to learn more of it as time goes on, but not all of it.


	14. Chapter 14

When Prompto opened his eyes the next morning after hearing Iggy, then Gladio get up and leave, he was almost surprised that there even was a next morning to open his eyes to. After everything that happened the day before, it sure felt like the rest of the world should have ended too, right? And then all that stuff with Laura—it was all just insane. The world had gone insane.

He hadn’t slept a minute the night before, instead letting all the crap that had happened roll over and over in his brain like clothes in a dryer. His home was gone, along with every place he used to love going: his room with its carefully collected comic books, videogames, and random half-done mechanical projects; everything he’d ever taken a photo of, as well as all his photos; the shooting range that was three blocks down from where he’d taken his Crownsguard self-defense training; the arcade where he and Noct would hang out and let the hours pass by in a blur of color and sound . . ..

It was at that point that he would realize that he’d stopped thinking about them again, and what kind of selfish bastard was he for not thinking of them first? His parents had hardly been in his life since he was adopted, and even though it wasn’t their fault, he’d spent most of his life alone until he’d finally introduced himself to Noct. Actually, being out on the road like this with the four of them had been the closest Prompto had ever come to the concept of a family, even if he did always feel like the youngest, least useful brother of the bunch. And now, with his parents probably dead, the four of them were all he had left.

Which was why he didn’t care that Laura was an alien. Sure, he’d freaked out at first like the rest of them, but as the night wore on and the topic went for another spin in his head, he realized she was no different from him, really. She was a stranger walking a strange land with no one to turn to but the four of them. She didn’t belong. She was one of “the bad guys,” even if she wasn’t. It did kinda suck that she was yet another powerful and royal friend of his, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

When the heat from the sunrise started turning the tent into a pizza oven, he rolled himself outside, leaving Noct alone. Iggy was at the camp stove as usual, looking perfectly put together as though the world hadn’t fallen apart. As he flipped a fried egg over with a little frown of concentration before reaching over to the table to take a swig of coffee, Prompto wondered how the hell the guy always did it. Insomnia had been his only home too; why wasn’t he more of a mess? It must’ve been the training. Besides being mad at Laura, Gladio had been pretty stoic about losing his home and family too.

Prompto plastered a smile on his face before skipping up behind the chef and leaning over the table.

“Morning Iggy!” he said brightly. “Whatcha got cookin’?”

“I thought croque madame would be appropriate this morning,” he said in a low voice. “And do keep your voice down, if you please. Laura is still asleep.” He nodded over to the campfire, where a lump of that hideous brown blanket lay.

Prompto raised his eyebrows in surprise. “She okay? She never seems to sleep unless she’s used magic.”

Ignis pursed his lips, but he didn’t look up from the stove. “I believe she was involved in more than one reckless enterprise yesterday. Best let her sleep until we’re ready to leave.”

When Gladio returned from his morning exercises and Noct finally crawled out of the tent with bleary, heavy eyes, they all sat down around the fire in silence and ate, awkwardly trying not to look at the unconscious pile of what looked like garula skin in front of them. It wasn’t until they’d all finished eating and were beginning to pack up that Iggy finally decided to wake her, crouching to hand her a plate of eggs and toast to eat while they finished packing the site. She sat up shakily, thanked Iggy, and ate her breakfast as they prepared to get on the road to Hammerhead.

A trip to Hammerhead didn’t end up connecting them with Cor as they’d hoped, but they did finally get a hold of Cid, who also acted like he knew the whole time that something was wrong with the treaty. When he mentioned that the King had seen this coming from a mile away, Prompto wondered if they were the _only_ ones who felt like the ground had been yanked from underneath their feet. Seemed like everyone but the four of them knew.

But it was good to have someone else confirm Laura’s story. Prompto got the feeling that Iggy had forgiven her at least, especially after that speech last night. But Noct still seemed wary of her, and Gladio was still pissed—kept glaring at her from the side of his eye from the haven all the way to Hammerhead. Prompto wanted to show his support like Iggy had, but he didn’t want Noct, or especially Gladio, getting mad at him, so he kept quiet. Besides, it wasn’t like _he_ was in a position to defend someone the others felt didn’t belong.

After they’d finished talking to Cid, they all got back in the Regalia to find Cor up at the Prairie Outpost. About half an hour into the drive, Laura leaned forward and placed a hand on Iggy’s elbow.

“Are you all right to drive? I do know how to drive if you’re tired.”

Prompto thought that was a little extreme. Yeah, they’d all slept like crap the night before, and he himself was about to fall asleep against the window—Noct was about halfway unconscious already; but Iggy and Gladio seemed to be holding up just fine. It just had to be all that Crownsguard training, because those two were invincible.

“I’m quite all right, thank you,” Iggy replied politely, but there was an edge to his voice that made Prompto wonder.

Laura sat back in her seat. “Stubborn jackass,” she muttered under her breath, and Prompto’s eyes widened as even Noct smirked without opening his eyes or lifting his head from the window. With the whispery roaring sound her magic made now that she’d aligned, or whatever, she summoned a can of Ebony, popped it open, and leaned forward again to hand it to him.

“At least drink this then, you frustrating creature,” she grumbled.

“ _I’m_ frustrating?” Iggy replied, taking the can from her. “I’m not the one who—this is hot.”

“What?”

“This Ebony,” he paused as he took a sip. “It’s hot.”

Laura sat back in the seat again, shaking her head. “Of course it’s hot. Why would I give you a room temperature can of coffee when I know you prefer it hot?”

“Do you guys mind? Trying to sleep over here,” Noct mumbled.

After they apologized, it fell silent, and Prompto leaned his head back against the window. Laura didn’t use their armiger much, mainly for her clothes and camping supplies, so maybe she didn’t know that theirs would _only_ summon things at room temperature, even if you’d put it in hot or cold. He bet that as soon as they got to the outpost and were allowed to talk again, she and Iggy were gonna have some long, in-depth discussion about the science behind pocket universes.

When they reached the outpost, Noct put his foot down and insisted they stay in the camper instead of the nearby haven, and Iggy seemed to relent without much of a fight. It looked like Prompto was gonna get his favorite dish tonight, because Iggy summoned a bowl, filled it with beans and water, and left it on the counter to soak while they were out looking for Cor. As they were getting ready to walk through the main street of the outpost to ask around for the Marshal’s location, Laura stopped them.

“You guys are just going to look for Cor, right? Nothing else?”

“Yeah,” Noct said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Why?”

She looked down at the dusty ground and bit her lip for a second before replying. “I’m not . . . well today,” she said as she grimaced. “I know Cor wasn’t one of the ones who turned, and if you’re just meeting him here, it should be safe enough for me to stay behind.”

“You sure it’s that? Sure there isn’t some other reason you don’t wanna see him?” Gladio growled, clenching his fists at his sides.

“Gladio,” Iggy said sharply. “Enough.”

“No, I wanna hear this too,” Noct said, but his tone wasn’t as aggressive as Gladio’s had been.

Laura pursed her lips before replying. “I have full confidence Cor will back me up just as much as Regis would have, so go ahead and ask him yourself.”

“Are you gonna be okay?” Prompto asked. He’d never known her to not come along with them, even when she had no intention of hunting the animals.

“It was that tree, wasn’t it?” Iggy asked.

Prompto didn’t know what he was talking about, but Laura seemed to because she shook her head. “It wasn’t the tree. It was a subtle spell that let me do what I needed to do yesterday at the Wall. Turns out some types of magic are worse than others to use on this world.”

Prompto thought back to when they’d fought their way through the Wall to get to the overlook. He’d thought at the time that she was moving way faster than a person should be able to, almost like she was constantly warp-striking in a blur of gold. He’d had trouble keeping track of where she was at any given moment and would have to follow the golden trails of mist just to find her. He’d thought she looked worn out when she’d finished, but then their world fell apart and he’d forgotten about it.

“I’ll be fine—just need some more sleep,” she said with a soft look at Prompto. “Just come and wake me if you’re leaving the outpost, okay?”

“Yeah,” Noct grunted and turned to leave. 

It wasn’t difficult finding Monica; it wasn’t like there were a lot of buildings to search in the area. But talking to her didn’t exactly put their minds at ease about what the city was like inside. When she said that most of the Crownsguard didn’t make it, Prompto couldn’t help but look at Gladio and Iggy. Would they have died in the invasion? As amazing as they were, probably. Even if it was selfish of him to think, he was glad that they hadn’t been in the city when it happened, or he would’ve lost them too.

When Monica told them to meet with Cor up at the Tomb of the Wise, and Noct immediately marched for the gate that led to the path that would take them there, Prompto thought it might be a good idea to say something.

“Uh, shouldn’t we go back and get Laura before we head up to the tomb?” he asked hesitantly. “She told us to wake her if we left.”

“No,” Noct said, shaking his head as he quickened his pace to a loping jog. Prompto sped up to stay alongside him. “We still got the four of us. This shouldn’t take long.”

It was a long, winding, uphill run along the dusty path. Prompto was kinda getting sick of all the dirt and red-brown dust sticking to the sweat that always seemed to settle on his skin like a gritty, unwelcomed blanket. Leide was a huge change from Insomnia, but he was ready to move on to somewhere else—if they couldn’t go back home. He wondered what they were gonna do after this.

“Can’t keep up with this guy,” Gladio muttered.

“First, the Crown City. Then Hammerhead? Then the Royal Tomb?” Prompto replied, drawing a three-pointed line in the air in front of him. How many places were they gonna have track this guy down to?

“His nickname should have been Cor the Restless,” Iggy muttered.

“Yeah, somehow not as catchy as Cor the Immortal,” Gladio said.

“And making it out of Insomnia only adds to his legend,” Prompto said in awe. If most of the Crownsguard hadn’t made it out alive, then Cor must have been an incredible warrior to manage it. He’d seen him several times around the sparring areas, but since Prompto was only there for self-defense training, he’d never gotten the chance to see him actually fight. Iggy and Gladio had sparred with him though, and they’d both said the guy was like a real-life hero. Well, Gladio had done a play-by-play of all their matches and Iggy had detailed the “tactical brilliance” of the guy, anyway.

The path had thankfully transformed from dirt to rock, but the incline got steeper as they turned off a fork in the path toward the left. High rock ledges stretched above them from either side, making Prompto feel a little claustrophobic. If something attacked them here, there wouldn’t be a lot of room, and there were only two ways to escape. His fingertips twitched a little as they jogged, but he tried to shake the feeling from his mind and concentrate.

“Well, fortune favors the bold,” Noct said with a shrug.

Iggy pulled up alongside the both of them and raised an eyebrow. “The wise make their own luck,” he said.

Noct was about to reply, probably with some kinda smartass remark, but Iggy slapped a hand to his back and pushed him to the ground right as a set of claws closed over where Noct’s head had been seconds before.

“Prompto, look out!” Iggy called up from the ground.

“I gotcha, buddy,” Prompto said as he summoned his pistols, alternating shots left and right at the bird’s white breast. Damnit, he knew as soon as they’d started running up this trench this would happen.

“They’re daggerquills,” Iggy said, standing as the rest of them summoned their weapons. “Weakest to daggers, firearms, and fire. Highness, you may want to switch your weapon.”

Ignis flung a hand over his shoulder, summoning a dagger to his fingers by the tip, and hurled it at the bird Prompto wasn’t currently shooting, his body carrying him through his forward momentum with a couple of bounces on one foot. As soon as the blade was buried to the hilt in the creature’s ribs, Iggy held out a hand, summoning his dagger back to his palm. Prompto never could figure out how Iggy always managed to summon from a distance like that. Even Gladio could only summon and dismiss if he was touching the weapon, but Iggy was always better at magic than anyone but Noct.

“Ignis!” Noct called out.

“On your mark, Noct,” Iggy replied flinging a dagger at each bird with a practiced and almost cocky air, and Prompto had to stop shooting his daggerquill for a second while Noct warp-struck them both with a thunderous _whoosh-clang_ , burying his own daggers between their ribs. The daggerquill Prompto hadn’t been working on fell to the ground, where Gladio raised his massive sword above his head and struck with all his strength, killing it immediately.

Eager to make his own kill and prove himself, Prompto summoned a fire spell and hurled it up at his bird. The flask hit its mark and shattered against the daggerquill’s neck, frying the creature in midair. It landed at his feet with a kinda sickening, sizzling thud.

“Heh, would you look at that, Iggy? You don’t even have to cook it,” Gladio chuckled as he came up from behind Prompto, clapping him on the back.

Iggy stopped at his other side, placing a gloved finger to his lips as he tilted his head and stared down at Prompto’s kill. “Yes, well done, Prompto. A little too well done, in fact. Looks as though we won’t be able to harvest from this one. But there’s plenty of meat on the other one, so that’s quite all right.”

They harvested the vibrant blue and gold plumage, as well as the meat, from the other bird before _finally_ cresting the hill. Prompto slowed as they passed between two enormous stone pillars, craning his neck as far as he could to see the tops.

“Whoa,” he breathed, pulling out his camera to take a shot of Noct dwarfed by the colossal masonry.

Noct shook his head. “Come on, Prom,” he said, turning and following Iggy and Gladio up the stone steps to the three-quarter-dome shaped tomb. The building was adorned with onyx ribbing that rose to the sky in three sharp points, and over the door to the tomb, a sentinel statue in long flowing robes stood watch. As Noct pushed open the ornately carved door, Prompto snapped photos of the three of them, framing the shots so that the most interesting parts of the architecture would be in the background.

Though the architecture inside was just as amazing, Prompto took only one shot of Cor standing next to the effigy of the Wise King before putting his camera away. He didn’t wanna look like he wasn’t taking this seriously in front of Cor, of all people.

“Wanna tell me what I’m here for?” Noct muttered bitterly.

Cor ignored Noct’s tone and held his hand out over the statue of the Wise King lying in front of him. “The Power of Kings—passed from the old to the new through the bonding of souls . . .. One such soul lies before you. To claim your forebears’ power is your birthright and duty as King.”

“My duty as King of what?”

Prompto was shocked by the defeat in Noct’s tone, and he noticed that even Gladio’s and Iggy’s heads snapped to the back of his head, shaken by his words. Iggy especially seemed disturbed, his eyebrows raising and his lips falling open to reveal clenched teeth as he took a step toward Noct. Prompto knew that Noct had been having a hard time since hearing about his father’s death. But he’d been distracted dealing with Laura, and now that things had mostly calmed down with her, Prompto knew his break would be coming soon. He just didn’t expect it to be in front of Cor and everyone else.

Cor was starting to get frustrated with Noct’s attitude. His voice grew deeper as he stepped toward Noct, and Prompto took a step back nervously. “How long will you remain the Protected? The King entrusted the role of Protector to you.”

“ _Entrusted_ it to me?” Noct said, standing stiffly with his fists clenched. “Then why didn’t he tell _me_ that? Why did he stand there smiling as I left?!” he roared hoarsely as he slapped a hand down on the sarcophagus, gripping the gilded edge tightly. “Why—” he took in a deep, shuddering breath, and for a moment, Prompto thought he was actually gonna cry right there in front of all of them.

Noct seemed to compose himself as he brought his other hand to the edge and looked down at the floor. Prompto, though, couldn’t stand to see this. He turned away and hung his head, fighting the burn in his eyes as he listened to his friend grieve.

“Why did he lie to me?” Noct whispered in anguish.

“That day, he didn’t want you to remember him as the King. In what time you had left, he wanted to be your father. He always had faith in you that when the time came, you would ascend for the sake of your people.”

Before Cor had finished speaking, Prompto heard it—the tiny gasps and hitching breaths of his friend’s mourning. He couldn’t help it; he had to turn around and make sure he’d heard right. He couldn’t see Noct’s expression from where he stood, but he could see the shaking. Gods, what a nightmare. How could this have happened? And now they were expected to just . . . move on and do what, exactly? Hopefully, Cor or Iggy had a plan for them.

“Guess he left me no choice,” Noct said, standing straight, his eyes shimmering, but hard. He held his hand out over the King’s statue, and the Sword of the Wise glowed with a brilliant blue light, so bright that they all had to shield their eyes for a second. It raised high into the air before plunging itself into Noct’s chest and disappearing, but a shadow of the sword seemed to circle Noct a couple of times before that too, disappeared. To Prompto, it almost looked like it hurt when the sword had pierced his friend, as Noct stood clutching a fist to his chest, his expression still hard.

“What would be the best course of action now, Marshal?” Ignis asked. “We must come up with a plan.”

“Calm and collected as ever, I see,” Cor said, shaking his head with a curl at the corner of his lips. He turned to Noct. “That’s not the only power your forbears left you. Your journey’s just begun. Another tomb is close by. I suggest you head there next,” Cor said. His eyes drifted to the three of them before he asked, “Where’s the girl?”

“We left her at the outpost. She wasn’t feeling well,” Noct said, staring down at the statue in front of him.

Cor narrowed his eyes before he spoke. “Go back and get the girl before you come back to Keycatrich. You’re going to need her help for this. Your father assigned her to protect you so I could be free to protect the people. Let her do her job.”

“Did _you_ know that she knew too? Did everyone but us know?” Noct shot back, looking up with a snarl on his face.

“The signs were there. Those of us paying attention felt something coming. But no one knew, save the King and Clarus,” Cor said, nodding at Gladio. “From a tactical standpoint, Laura would need to know as well in order to do her duty.”

“Do you even know what she is?” Noct asked.

Cor shook his head. “She’s wrong, I know. I felt it when I fought her and told the King, but he already knew. Your father trusted her with your life. Don’t leave her behind again.”

“Right,” Noct said on a sigh before nodding and turning to leave the tomb.

Prompto wasn’t sure if he was supposed to bow or what, so he glanced over to see what Iggy and Gladio did, which was pretty much zero help. Iggy, of course, stood stiffly and bowed nearly in half before straightening and turning sharply on his heel and striding out. Gladio nodded once at the man before turning to catch up with Noct.

“Uh . . . t—thanks,” Prompto said, sort of nodding and half-bowing at the same time before jogging to catch up with the rest of the group.

They took their time getting back to the camper, engaging anything they passed so Noct could work out his frustrations—except for the coeurl, which Iggy recommended they steer far, far away from. By the time they made it back to the outpost, it was late afternoon, and Iggy was itching to get dinner started.

“After all, it takes quite a while to cook the beans down,” he said.

“Does that mean we’re gonna have the burly bean bowl? Whoo!” Prompto cheered, pumping a fist in the air. He always loved Iggy’s cooking, but the spicy stuff he made was the best.

“Ugh, why’s it gotta be beans?” Noct complained. “You know I hate beans.”

Iggy looked over at Noct, the corner of his lips quirking. “Apologies, Highness, but I cannot cater to your every whim. We have a convalescing comrade to nourish as well.”

Laura was half awake when they got back, and as soon as Iggy started working in the kitchen and Noct collapsed onto one of the bunks, she got up and headed past Prompto out the open front door, nodding to both of them. She paused for a moment at the outside tables, and, seeing Gladio seated there on his phone, she kept walking, her feet dragging in the dirt with each stride and kicking up clouds of dust. Iggy had paused in his work, holding the pot of beans and water over the glowing red burner and staring out the window.

“I’m just gonna go check on her,” Prompto said as he jumped up from the seat in front of the door. He leapt past the stairs and jogged to catch up with her, which wasn’t hard, since she was walking so slow.

“Hey!” he said with a smile and a little shove at her arm. “Where ya goin’?”

She didn’t turn to him, just kept walking past the communications building and toward the massive lookout tower.

“Thought I’d climb up there and check out the sunset,” she said quietly, pointing up to the tower platform.

“You mind if I come with?” he asked, but then he winced, rubbing at the back of his neck. Maybe she wanted to be alone, and here he was forcing his company on her.

They stepped between two rusted out, abandoned cars, and when she’d cleared them, she turned to him with a gentle smile.

“Not at all,” she said. “I’d love your company.”

“Really? You mean it?” he asked. The guys always _seemed_ okay having him around, but no one had ever straight-up told him they’d actually enjoyed him there.

“Course, else I wouldn’t have said it,” she replied, her smile growing to a grin.

When they’d made it to the top of the tower, she plopped down on the floor, scooting so her legs dangled beneath the railing and over the side. As Prompto made to sit down next to her, she threaded her arms through the second railing and rested her chin on it as she looked over the desert to the darkening sky.

“You don’t have to avoid us, you know,” he said leaning to bump her shoulder with his.

“I thought you guys could use some space, especially Gladio,” she said with a sigh, her eyes falling closed.

“Ha ha, yeah,” he chuckled awkwardly and picked at his fingernails. “Really though, I dunno why he’s so mad at you. He’s normally a pretty accepting guy.”

The light was starting to turn the sky all kinds of colors: molten gold, dusky orange, and sylleblossom purple as the sun sank below the horizon, so he summoned his camera to try and catch some of the colors to keep with him forever. After a few shots, he turned the camera to include her face in the sunset, so maybe he could keep this moment of friendship with him forever too.

“Because it’s too much,” she finally said, opening her eyes to look at him. “The world is ripped away; there’s nothing and no one to fall back on, and I’m an unknown variable. He can’t protect Noctis from me should he need to, and he knows it.”

“He should come around soon, maybe? Cor totally backed you up at the tomb.” He winced and turned his head away, hoping she wouldn’t notice what he’d said, but he felt a hand settle on his elbow.

“It’s all right. I already knew. Woke up to find your minds too far away for me to locate, but the Regalia was still here. I just had to trust that Ignis could keep you all reined in for the afternoon.”

It didn’t really matter that she’d known already. He’d still messed up. He was always messing up. No matter how hard he tried, he could never be as good at anything as Gladio or Iggy, so how was he gonna help Noct collect all those weapons and get the Crystal back? And then what? It wasn’t gonna bring back all those people that’d been killed—by _his_ people. Six, if anyone was the traitor among them, it was him, not her, and if they ever found out? Well, now he had firsthand knowledge what they’d do to him. Gladio would take a sword to his throat.

He hadn’t noticed that his breathing had picked up until she had. Laura scooted closer and moved her hand so her arm was around his shoulder. He leaned into the contact, desperate for any kind of reassurance that there would at least be someone who still cared if everything got out.

“Hey,” she said softly into the top of his head. “Are you all right?”

“Not really,” he chuckled. He wasn’t gonna tell her the real reason he was upset, but he did have some things on his mind. “I feel like crap that I miss home more than anything when other people have lost so much more. But it’s like, we’re not kids anymore; there’s no safety net cause home’s gone. I just wish I could be brave like you.”

_I wish I could tell you all who I really was and you all be okay with it._

He felt her body expand and slowly deflate as she sighed and squeezed him tighter into her side. “You know, it’s easy to be brave with all this experience at my fingertips. I’ve been doing this for longer than some civilizations have existed.”

As she leaned her head into the top of his, she continued. “It’s you, sitting here beside me with none of that to back you up, who are truly courageous. Just a regular guy leaving home for the first time to face the wild with nothing but his guns and his friends? I find you incredibly brave, Prompto.”

“You really believe that?” he asked, because it was too hard to believe he’d heard what he’d heard.

Her response was halfway between a laugh and a hum. “Like I told you before, I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe it.”

She gave him one final squeeze before she kissed the top of his head and let him go. “Come on,” she said with a bright smile. “Now that the sun’s gone down, we don’t want to make everyone worry. And we don’t want to be late; from the looks of it, Ignis is making your favorite tonight.”

“Heh, right. Thanks for listening, Laura,” he said as she pulled him to his feet.

“I’ll always be here if you need it.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Panic attack

Relations were still delicate between Laura and Noctis and Gladio the next day, though she hardly expected them to be otherwise, given all they’d gone through and how much she’d concealed from them. Still, she was surprised that the group seemed to have forgiven her as much as they had—a testament to their good hearts. All things considered, her confession hadn’t gone as badly as some of those she’d had to give in the past. She remembered with a shudder what they had done to her on the _Galactica_ when she’d been forced to make similar revelations about her heritage.

It was with heavy but functional hearts that they left the camper and made for the Keycatrich Mines nearby to collect another weapon, and Laura watched as Noctis received the second blessing of the Power of Kings, this time from the Conqueror. As the axe sliced through his chest, she noted the expression that crossed Noctis’s face as he gained a Lucii’s power. It fit the expression one would wear if he knew that he was one step closer to the veil that would eventually close around him. He grasped at the spot where the weapon had disappeared, and she wondered if he knew what was happening to him. It wasn’t as though she could ask.

“Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps,” Prompto shivered.

“Indeed,” Ignis agreed, as Gladio let out a “Hell, yeah.”

Laura nodded, though the boys likely couldn’t see her in the dim of the mineshafts. Ever since they had entered, her view of the timelines had heightened as they coalesced into a seething, writhing mass in her skull, so even opening her mouth to speak had become a rather unpleasant experience, as the vibrations from her vocal cords seemed to intensify the sensation. There was something wrong with this place, and she couldn’t do a thing about it until they were presented directly with the problem. She gritted her teeth in frustration and sighed, exacerbating the fiery headache that had resided behind her eyes since their trip to Insomnia.

“Are you all right?” Ignis asked gently.

Laura looked over at him, searching his face for the matching emotion she felt roaring in his mind. He hated being here in the dark, she could tell, but the only hint of that emotion was buried deep in his viridian eyes. The number of times she’d seen him perfectly composed, and sometimes even cocky, while the color of his mind nearly blinded her with some sort of conflicting emotion was staggering. She feared for what he might have gone through to learn this behavior, as she knew all too well what she’d had to endure to gain the ability. But whereas she’d had hundreds of years to develop her neuroses, his expertise had been gained in a scant twenty-two years.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” she said, not wanting to lie to him.

“I can feel eyes on us,” Prompto said melodramatically. “The second we turn our backs, BAM!”

“Wuss,” Gladio muttered.

“There _is_ something ominous about the atmosphere of this place,” Ignis mused as they crept along the shafts, his eyes darting as he kept a lookout for more daemons.

Ominous was a good word for it. Things were about to get as bad as things could possibly be with another added suitcase full of bad, she knew, and as usual, she couldn’t say a thing to anyone until it happened—at the very least until she knew more about what had caused her time sense to rear up and swallow her whole. She hated holding things back, as she remembered still too clearly after all these millennia the frustration of being on the other side of that equation. A quick prick of nostalgia for her Doctor nipped at her hearts as she recalled all the times she’d berated him for never saying anything of substance.

But if it could be at all helped, she’d rather not have to reveal her time sense to the group. It was difficult enough for her to understand herself, with no training, and it might completely shatter their fragile trust in her if, in addition to being able to “read minds,” she also had to confess that she could sort of, sometimes, in the murkiest way, also see the entire nexus of causality.

They had ascended about halfway through the mineshafts by that point and were about to enter one of a series of larger rooms when they all heard a hissing whisper coming from up ahead and paused to listen.

“What was that?” Prompto shrieked.

“Quiet,” Gladio growled.

A sharp pain lanced through Laura’s temple, and the knot that was the timeline ahead of them seemed to lodge in her throat. Her hands shot to her head in an attempt to keep herself grounded, and she forced herself to remain standing, despite the strong desire to drop to her knees.

“Laura?” Ignis inquired, placing a hand at her elbow.

“Fuck,” she ground out around the pounding of her head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” This was so much worse than a daemon. She hadn’t encountered one of these creatures for about four thousand years now, but their rarity made them no less deadly. Didn’t this world have enough to deal with without interdimensional predators threatening to rip the seams of the universe apart? There couldn’t have been a more vulnerable time for this to happen, which she supposed was kind of the point, as the creatures were drawn to grief. Actually, given that thought, she should have expected this, with the way her luck tended to run.

They would have been in less danger if she’d been given more time to explain, but there was nothing for it. Their experience in battle with her meant that the group trusted her instincts enough to ready their weapons and look to her for guidance, and she felt a swell of hope that perhaps they could learn to trust her completely again. Still, their weapons would be no good here.

“Put those away. No questions, no time,” she said in a low, clipped voice. “We need to run. If it appears, keep running. Don’t try to fight it. If you get hit, know the effects are temporary, but above all, you _must_ prevent a paradox, no matter how much you might want to change things.”

“What’s a . . .,” Prompto began, but the whispering had grown so much closer in just the time it took for Laura to say those words.

“Run!” she whispered fiercely, grabbing Noctis’s hand and taking off toward the surface. The potential damage to the timelines would be so much worse it ended up hitting him, so she did her best to angle her body between the sinister whisper and the young prince as they ran. She prayed to whatever would listen that it would hit her. Not being native to this universe, she was in a unique position in that she doubted it would have an effect on her—probably. Well . . . maybe. If it could at all be helped, she’d rather let it get its one shot off and disappear without it hitting anyone at all.

They hurtled up the roughly-hewn stone inclines, passing through primitive doorways and corridors with reckless abandon for about ten minutes, dodging daemons and nearly making wrong turns three times as Noctis mistook the route, but Laura continued to yank him along the correct path.

“Shouldn’t we almost be there?” Gladio called out from behind Prompto.

“Nearly!” she heard Ignis reply.

But as soon as the word had passed from his lips, all the ambient light was sucked from the tunnel as the thing rippled into view, and the faint whispers grew to a gasping chorus that combined with the roaring timelines, nearly deafening her. The creature was vaguely humanoid in shape. Its mouth was open in a grotesque silent scream, but instead of an orifice, moist enflamed flesh glistened in the group’s travel lights. Sickly green irises seemed to stare through them sightlessly, the lack of pupils suggesting a lack of sentience. Its skin was shredded and grey, its figure skeletal.

Yet for all its horrifying appearance, the creature was only the size of a garden gnome. Its size belied the doom it could bring on them all, but it was also some small mercy. Should it hit one of them, the effects would only last a couple of days at most, maybe less. Could Laura trust any of them, though, with what they would have to do over the next two days, especially after all they’d just been through? She doubted fate would give her a choice in the matter.

The creature sucked in a wheezing breath, and she knew it was about to attack.

“Duck!” she cried, already pushing Noctis to the ground beneath her and landing on top of him. She felt the flutter of her hair as the yellow-white pus-colored ball of energy passed dangerously close to their backs, then an explosion of air as it hit its mark. The timelines in her head reverberated through her brain, threatening to take over her mind, making her lose her sense of self. The creature, having fulfilled its purpose with its one and only shot, disappeared from in front of them with a cracking sound like breaking wood.

“Laura,” Noctis said after a moment, “you can get up now. It’s gone. We’re okay.”

She wanted to tell him that they were most certainly not okay, but she was currently drowning in a cyclone of frothing timelines that were forcing themselves down her nose and throat, choking off her air. They and their entire world could disappear into nonexistence any second, so no. It _wasn’t_ okay. For a fleeting moment, she wondered what would happen to her if the universe suddenly ceased to exist. Would she simply be shunted off to the nearest parallel, or would she die along with them? It didn’t matter what the universe tried to do; she’d stay with these versions of them until whatever end. She’d promised a good man.

Shaking her head in an attempt to clear it, she groaned as she sat up.

“Hey, are you okay?” Prompto asked from behind her. That was two checking in okay.

“No,” she gripped her head to stop the mineshaft from spinning around her. “Who got hit? You guys all right back there?”

“Yeah, all good here. Iggy?” Gladio said, groaning as he got to his feet.

But as soon as Gladio had answered, she knew—as his voice had eliminated all other options. Of _course_ it would be Ignis, the one with the most potential for this experience, should they live through it, to be emotionally scarring for all parties involved. Still, all things considered, it could be worse. Of the four of them, Ignis was the one she worried least about returning to the Citadel, at least in terms of the world ending. Emotionally, however . . . she could never tell with that man.

“Ignis, gods damn it, answer me!”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the timelines gave another almighty lurch, and she felt her vision diminish into a pinprick. Wherever Ignis was, he’d just done something dangerous, already.

 _No!_  They would all die right there if she didn’t hold on to consciousness. She bit her lip hard and breathed, hoping the pain would be enough to keep her awake. When she was finally able to open her eyes again, it was to find Prompto breaking a potion over the head of a terrified child with sandy blonde hair, large viridian eyes, and glasses. He was sprawled out in a muddy patch near the rock wall, his trousers and white linen dress shirt smeared with black muck, his glasses sitting askew on his nose, and his eyes darting wildly around at the situation he’d found himself in. As he sat up and straightened his glasses, Laura could finally access her telepathy enough to feel his mind shifting frantically, assessing his surroundings.

“That’s not going to do any good, you know,” she sighed at Prompto. She hoisted herself to her feet, steadying herself against the wall for a moment before picking her way over the loose rocks to the boy that was now pressing himself into the stone behind him. Careful to move slowly, she crouched down in front of him.

“Ignis? Hello!” she said in a bright voice, wiggling her fingers at him. The boy looked at her suspiciously, furrowing his brow and narrowing his eyes. Yeah, she should have known that even at the age of . . . eight? . . . ten? . . . a boy as intelligent as Ignis wasn’t going to fall for that. She modulated the false cheer a little. “You were . . . sort of brought here by a wild bit of magic. We’ve taken care of the problem, but we’re still in a dangerous place. Would you mind coming with us so we can get to safer ground?” She held out a hand to him and smiled warmly, hoping that her demeanor, at least, would earn enough of his trust to get them out of there.

He tilted his head at her, still squinting. “If you please, how do you know my name?” he asked in a quiet, melodious tone.

This was going to be a difficult couple of days. He was just too inquisitive, too curious, too damn observant—which were normally things she loved about him, but traits like those were rather inconvenient at a time like this.

“Well, everyone knows the Royal Family,” she said. “And you’re always around the Citadel with the Prince. You’re pretty easy to recognize. But please, won’t you come with me? We really are in danger the longer we stay in the dark like this.”

Finally, he seemed to take in his surroundings enough to agree with her statement, for he tentatively reached for her hand and grasped her fingers tightly.

“Fantastic! Let’s go,” she said, helping him up and shuffling to the entrance. She schooled her features into a smile to hide the wave of dizziness that washed over her in that moment as she looked down at him. “There are many dangers lurking about—daemons, imperial soldiers, and even wild animals. If anything should appear, you stick with me.”

“No way,” Gladio argued, turning to face them. “Iggy should stay with me. I can carry him to safety if something shows up.”

Dear Gladio. Laura knew he would never come to her, or likely anyone for support for his father’s death; the military training ran too deep with him. But he was more than the sum of his training, and this right here was proof. Each time she caught him sitting alone looking out at the landscape, reading a book, or protecting one of the boys, she caught that glimpse of the real him. He was a thoughtful, gold-hearted _brother_ , through and through. As soon as she had seen that, she’d made it her mission to preserve that hidden nugget of warmth in his heart.

But she had to handle this now, so she glared at him. As much as she wanted to make the point that she could pick Ignis up and run with him much faster than he could, she refrained, as it was probably for the best that he kept forgetting about her inhumanity, and now wasn’t the time for posturing anyway. And if her suspicions about Ignis’s past were correct, Gladio was the last person that needed to be around the boy.

“You know very well that your place is beside your . . . commander,” she said. He furrowed his brow as he looked at her, perplexed by her phrasing, then down at Ignis. “That hasn’t changed.” She looked deep into his eyes, hoping the significance of her gaze would pass some sort of nonverbal message to him that this was beyond the break in their own personal relationship. He must have understood, because he nodded reluctantly and took his place by Noctis’s side.

As she passed the others, she murmured so that Ignis couldn’t hear, “I mean it, if you want to live through this, do not utter a single word.”

As she led them all to the surface and into the bright sunlight, the other four, including little Ignis by her side, breathed a sigh of relief, but Laura refrained, knowing that the peril still lay ahead of them. She took stock of their surroundings, including the tactical defensibility of the location, and seeing that they were relatively sheltered by the high rock walls of the trench, she turned to Ignis.

“I’m sorry, Ignis, but I am going to have to ask you to wait here for just a moment while I talk to the others about something important. We’ll be right over there,” she pointed farther down the trench. “Nothing can come in without us noticing, and the daemons won’t leave the cave with the sun still up. Just don’t go near the cave, okay?” His eyes were wide and glassy as he looked up at her and nodded.

“Hey,” she said gently, bending over so she was at the level of his eyes. “Everything’s going to be all right, sweetheart, okay?” She smiled sweetly at him, hoping to put him at ease.

He still didn’t say a word, only continued to gaze at her face as his mind prickled in thought. Sighing, she gently caressed his cheek with the back of her hand in reassurance before leaving.

As she passed Gladio, Prompto, and Noctis, she said, “Come with me.” The three of them cast a glance at Ignis before turning and following behind her.

When they had gathered around her several yards away, Noctis spoke, “You wanna tell us what’s going on?”

With the fading of the adrenaline in her system, Laura’s headache had returned in full force. “I’m sorry, I need to sit,” she said as she eased herself onto an outcropping of rock near the wall of the trench, but she realized she could no longer see Ignis from this angle. “Gladio, keep an eye on Ignis for me?”

He nodded, glancing in the boy’s direction. “And anything else that’s coming to get us. You wanna get to the point anytime soon? We gotta get out of here. Is Iggy gonna be all right?”

She nodded. “You’ve probably figured out that that creature wasn’t a daemon. It’s called a paradoxis, an interdimensional wraith that feeds on the destruction of entire universes. When that ball hit Ignis, it sent him back in time to Insomnia, I’m guessing to around the time he was eight to ten years old, and brought his younger self here. Luckily for us, it only has one shot before it disappears, otherwise we’d all be in a really bad place right now.”

“What’s the point in doing that? Why would that destroy the universe?” Noctis asked.

“It was likely drawn here after the Fall, at a vulnerable time when people of power, like you, would be more likely to want to change their past. It hopes that the swapping of people in their own timelines will cause a paradox, which will tear apart the fabric of this entire reality. Then it feeds off the energy that comes from the destruction.”

“Yeah, about that . . . what’s a paradox? I tried to ask earlier,” Prompto said.

“Say you go back in time and keep your parents from meeting, and you were never born.” They all nodded their understanding, so she continued, “But if you no longer exist, who went back to keep your parents from meeting? That’s the paradox. Adult Ignis could change his past, or we could say something to young Ignis that he could remember and bring back with him to change his past.

“Don’t say anything to him that will reveal anything about your identities, please.” She looked at each of the three of them in turn. “Try not to use names at all. If you must, agree on pseudonyms before doing so.”

They stood in shocked silence for a moment, their eyes darting to catch glances at one another, but eventually, all nodded their understanding.

“What about Iggy? How do we get our Iggy back?” Noctis asked.

“We’ve had one stroke of luck on this, at least. That was a very small paradoxis. The effect should last a couple of days at most, and then their places will switch back on their own. To minimize timeline corruption, I suggest you leave him with me at the haven near the outpost. You guys can stay in the camper in case we need you.”

Gladio said, “You all work this out, I’m gonna check on things,” and headed back in Ignis’s direction.

“Why does it have to be you?” Noctis asked. “He didn’t get to know Prompto really until he was like, seventeen.”

“Because of all of you, Ignis knows me the least and has met me the latest in his life. And of all of you, I’ll know what’s safe to say and what isn’t.”

“Why’s that?” Prompto asked, leaning over to look into her eyes as he rolled up onto the balls of his feet.

Laura took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If she could get away with not telling them, she would, but she certainly wasn’t going to lie when she was asked a direct question.

“Because I’m time sensitive.” When she saw the thousands of questions forming on Noctis’s face, she cut them off before they could escape his lips. “Look, we don’t have time for me to sit here and explain the madhouse that is my brain right now, but suffice it to say, I have a running probability in my head at all times for everything that did happen, is happening, will be happening, has to happen, and must _never_ happen. On a cosmic scale though; I can’t tell you what you’re having for breakfast tomorrow unless your breakfast choice determines the fate of all mankind—which actually has happened, come to think of it. Anyway, it’s not as liberating an ability as you would imagine, quite the opposite.”

Though she had to admit to herself that in this world, for all her abilities, she had never felt quite _this_ weak and helpless. She wondered, not for the first time, if she would be able to help this group reach their full potential and save the world or if she was just an extra source of complications.

It was his mind she noticed first. It went still and quiet as it only did when he was either in awe or extremely upset. As she whipped her head in Ignis’s direction, a cry rent the air, and she hurled herself toward him, vaguely noting that the other two had followed suit.

“I don’t know what happened!” Gladio said as they approached, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “Kid was freaking out about not being home in time to go to a meeting. I reached out to him, and this. What the hell kinda kid has meetings at his age?”

Laura’s hearts stuttered at the sight before her. She had been afraid of this, and she cursed herself for not saying something to Gladio before assigning him to watch over the boy. Ignis was cowering away from Gladio, pressing himself in the corner of two boulders, his eyes wild and his breath ragged. His face had grown chalky white, and Laura wondered if he was about to pass out. With each breath he couldn’t catch, he seemed to grow more panicked, until his eyes were bulging and his gasps were pained. He collapsed to the dirt, sitting between the two boulders, and his eyes began rolling in his head as he struggled for breath.

“What’s wrong with him? Does he have asthma or something?” Prompto asked.

“Everyone, back away,” Laura said quietly.

Gladio stepped backwards toward Prompto and Noctis, his hands still raised at his head. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to scare him.”

She approached Ignis slowly, her hands spread wide in a gesture of benignity. “Ignis? It’s just me, dearest. You’re all right,” she murmured.

Ever so slowly, she bent to reach a hand out to his shoulder. Though his manner didn’t change, he seemed to be aware of her presence and accepted her touch, the color of his mind recognizing her as a friend and screaming for help, even through his abject terror. With his acquiescence, she fell to her knees by his side, gently maneuvering him so he sat at an angle between them, his back leaning against her chest. She ran her hands down his arms and entwined her fingers with his, making soothing sounds in his ear the entire time. Careful not to restrict his breathing, she brought their joined hands to his diaphragm.

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “I know it’s scary, but I promise you’re not dying. I’m going to talk you through this okay? Just listen to the sound of my voice. Focus on your breath. Try to match your breath with my hands, okay?”

She began to hum a soothing song from her childhood in London, a sweet, haunting melody from one of her favorite Disney princess movies, as she rocked him gently back and forth, pressing against his diaphragm slowly and rhythmically.

“Hey, I know that song! Ig . . .,” Noctis began, but Laura shot him a sharp look and tilted her head in an effort to silently tell him to shut _up_. If Noctis recognized the melody from Ignis, there was already contamination to the timelines, as _no one_ in this universe should be familiar with Disney tunes. But then, she already knew Ignis was going to retain at least some memory of this experience. He’d asked her three times since that day in the throne room where he might have met her before, and apparently, he’d met her out in the middle of nowhere as a child. She checked her time sense to make sure the contamination was contained. No harm done so far—that she could tell.

After several minutes of humming and rocking as the others looked on in silence, Ignis’s gasps had slowed to long, hitching breaths, but she could still feel the fear in his mind.

“I know you’re frightened,” she said into his ear. “But look at our uniforms. Do you recognize them?”

He nodded as the hitching in his breath slowed. “C—C—Crownsguard.”

“That’s right, we’re Crownsguard, which means we’re here by order of the King. That means that you’re now here by order of the King. Your meetings, your lists, your school, they can all wait, dearest. You’re safe here with us. None of us will hurt you, and you have my word that nothing will harm you so long as I am near. Do you hear me, Ignis? I swear to protect you.”

The tiny body in her arms gave a violent shudder and let out a whoosh of breath. “Yes, My Lady,” he said in a small voice.

She gave a little chuckle, but her hearts were still breaking for him. In a voice loud enough for the others to hear, she said, “You may call me Rose, or Miss Rose, if that makes you feel more comfortable.” How long had it been since she had last gone by that name? Not since her dear James had died.

Shaking her head free of her grief, she got an idea. Remembering his words about his relationship with the sky as a child, she infused her voice with awe and whispered into his ear, “Ignis, look up, sweetheart. You’re free.”

His head pressed into her shoulder as he raised his eyes to the sky, and his mind went still, the terror turning to wonder and freezing. She wished she could see his face from this angle.

“The sky,” he whispered in amazement.

She chuckled. “Mmm hmm, and we’ll get a better view of it as we walk to safety. But we really do need to get going now. Are you able to walk?”

He nodded, so she released him before taking one of his hands to help him stand. His entire body still trembled, but his legs seemed to hold his weight. He started brushing off his linen shirt and fixing his spiked hair in a futile attempt to fix his disheveled appearance, but he stopped when Laura bent to look him in the eyes.

“Are you certain you’re all right?”

Ignis took a deep breath and nodded, his glazed green eyes overly large in his face. “Yes, Miss Rose,” he almost whispered.

“All right then,” she said with a smile. “Let’s get going.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Reference to aftermath of child abuse. I should also note that this isn't going to be a main focus of the piece in the future, more a reference for why the character is the way he is.

Before they had even left the protection of the trench, Noctis’s phone rang, and Laura cast a quick look in his direction and then Ignis’s to remind him to watch what he said.

“Yeah, we can do it, but it’s gonna take a few days. Something’s come up. I can’t talk about it now. Bye.” As he hung up, Noctis nodded once at Laura, cast a wary eye at Ignis, then turned to walk ahead of them. Gladio and Prompto jogged to catch up, likely to discuss the subject of the phone call. She managed to catch the words “infiltrate a base” and groaned inwardly.

Wrapping her arm around Ignis’s and entwining their fingers as best she could now that she was a foot taller than him, she began leading him in the direction of the outpost. Between sweeps of the area searching for any hidden dangers, she would look down and notice that his sharp, evergreen eyes seemed to miss nothing. To put him more at ease, she pointed out some of the more benign bits of scenery that had nothing to do with the history of his kingdom: the way the little patches of dried grass dotted the sandy brown soil in a way that almost looked like a river, the way the high rock walls towering over them had been worn smooth by billions of years of wind and sand erosion, or how the few trees in the area had adapted to the climate by growing long and spindly branches with dry green brush. With each discovery, she could feel his mind prickle with interest and questions, but he kept silent.

After several minutes of chatter on her part and silence on his, he asked in a moment between comments, his voice soft and innocent, “May I ask how you know about my lists?”

She paused in her scan of the area before answering. Had he deliberately waited until she was distracted by a flash of movement on the ridge to ask so her answer would be more candid? If it hadn’t been a coincidence, he couldn’t fool her that easily.

Laura beamed down at him. “I have a friend like you,” she said. “He’s very important, very intelligent, and he makes a lot of lists too. I figured you were the same way.”

Ignis looked up at her, his eyes glittering, and gave her what she could only describe as a smirk-smile. And there he was. Beneath the subservience and ever-present loneliness, she’d seen glimpses of that self-assured version of him as an adult, but usually only when there was a dagger in each hand, and on very rare occasions, with Noctis. She was at a loss, however, for what triggered the transformation. For as much as she’d tried every time they were alone together to coax it out of him, she’d only managed to discover his quietly passionate side, which she treasured even more than those glimpses of self-confidence, as she’d _never_ seen him reveal that to anyone but her.

It was his obsequiousness, however, that had been dominating their interactions since Longwythe, but now that most of her secrets were out in the open, she was hoping to lead him back to those first days when he’d believed she was just another girl. They’d made some small progress the night before last, but god, there couldn’t have been a less appropriate time as he grieved, and she’d been giving them all space since then to pull themselves together. She had no idea where the two of them stood now, however, and it looked as though she wasn’t going to find out for at least another couple of days.

“And, if you please, where are we?”

Laura hesitated. “Leide,” she replied, knowing the area would be too large for him to try and search for information when he got back to Insomnia.

“That encompasses a rather large area,” he said, suspicion tightening his features again, but he smoothed them over immediately before looking around with a practiced, casual air. “I suppose the Ostium Gorge is far enough from the Insomnian checkpoint to truly be considered Leide.”

Damn his inquisitiveness at a time like this. Laura had apparently never had the pleasure of being genuinely seen by Ignis as anything but an ally, because she couldn’t recall a time when he’d tried to manipulate her into giving information she didn’t want to. The only time he’d truly mistrusted her was the day Insomnia fell, but she’d taken control of that situation as quickly as possible—not that it had stopped him from threatening her with a dagger on more than one occasion that day. Of course, she couldn’t be completely certain that he wouldn’t be threatening her now if he had a dagger to do so.

She hated lying to him, so she settled for a twisted version of the truth. “We’re on a secret mission for the King, so only those with clearance can know where we are. I can’t confirm your assumption, sorry.”

“Oh, my apologies, Miss Rose,” he replied, his voice softer as his gaze turned to the dirt at his feet.

“It’s quite all right,” she said, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

After an hour of walking and Laura chatting to fill the silence so Ignis wouldn’t ask any more questions, their progress was interrupted when they encountered a pack of ten wild sabertusks on the hunt.

“You two stand back,” Gladio shouted back toward them as he summoned his sword. “We got this.”

“This way, dear,” Laura said, placing a hand on Ignis’s shoulder and backing him up against the side of the cliff. She could feel his mind color with fear behind her, and though she wanted to turn and soothe him, she had to keep watch in case a sabertusk broke free of the fray and came for them. The psithurism of her magic whooshed over their ears as she brought her falchions to her hands and crouched with her back to the boy, her blades held out at the ready. She’d missed that sound of the wind through the trees; the shrieking had been most unpleasant.

“Miss Rose?” she heard Ignis whisper at her back.

“It’s all right, Ignis. The boys can handle this no problem, but I need to concentrate just in case, okay? Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

“Okay,” he whispered even more quietly.

She hoped with all her might that she wouldn’t have to kill an animal right now. The last thing she needed was to experience death in her mind, what with her time sense still rolling like an angry surf in a storm. The pain was bad enough from this distance as Gladio, Noctis, and Prompto began thinning the pack, but she had to stay close in case they needed her help. Three against ten weren’t the best of odds at their level of experience.

It was a delicate balance, allowing them room to fight so they could grow and yet knowing when to step in or stop holding back before they got themselves killed. Regis had been most clear in his instructions that she not interfere too much with their development unless their lives were threatened, but he had to know how impossible a task that was, even for her. It was already so difficult, sitting back and allowing them to injure themselves so grievously in their battles—especially Ignis, who needed to take potions _so_ often while protecting Noctis. This potion system of theirs was bizarre, and it made the line between life and death where she needed to step in even finer.

_Just please, don’t let me fail them._

She watched with pride and regret in equal measure as the three men took the pack out, quipping and casually wielding their weapons as they protected and supported each other. They had come so far in such a short time, their practical experience increasing their skill exponentially. She thought of the little boy behind her who would grow up with the potential to be more skilled than all of them, currently missing from their party. Did they know how much potential there was in all of them, really? How much the loss of their homes had affected their dynamic already? Had they realized yet that all that protection and support and friendship was really love? They would find out soon enough, she supposed, with their trials ahead.

She didn’t dismiss her weapons until after Gladio had felled the final sabertusk. Only then did she turn around to see Ignis, his back against the rock, his eyes wide and bright with awe.

“Are you all right?” she asked him gently, and he nodded.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Oh, dear heart,” she said, bringing a hand up to smooth his hair, “all I did was stand there. It’s the boys who did all the work.” He turned and bowed his thanks to the other three as they stood watching from a distance, and she took his hand to begin walking again.

It was late afternoon by the time they arrived at the haven, and they all set about their usual routines in setting up the campsite. After a significant look at the three adult members of their group, she allowed Ignis to do as he pleased, and he seemed to want to follow each of them around, asking questions and volunteering his help. Laura, still fighting against the burning headache and nausea from the churning timelines in her mind, elected to set up Ignis’s kitchen equipment. They may not have had the chef himself to make them dinner, but she thought, perhaps, a relaxing chore like cooking might soothe her mind.

Deciding against invading Ignis’s kitchen supplies, she opted instead to access her own pocket universe for ingredients. She was rarely shocked these days when she traveled to new worlds, but when she learned that the Crystal allowed them access to dimensional technology so similar to what James had made her and she had later modified, she couldn’t help but be amazed. She’d never had a name for where she stored her things besides the Pocket, but “armiger” seemed a limiting term for all hers could hold.

She decided on ochazuke for dinner, a simple, comforting, nourishing green tea and rice dish that she’d discovered while visiting Japan about a hundred years ago. She boiled the rice, pressed and grilled the tofu, and set about chopping the vegetables.

Laura looked up when a small voice inquired in a genteel tone, “May I be of any service to you, Miss Rose?”

She’d been monitoring his conversations with the others and heard them all decline his offers to help, for which she couldn’t blame them. The boy was intimidating to be around with the restrictions she’d placed on them all, and he’d been attempting to work his own subtle brand of magic on them, clumsy though it still was at this age. But she could handle him, and he wouldn’t feel comfortable until he was doing something, so she asked, “Do you know how to cook, Ignis?”

He flushed. “No, My L . . . I mean Miss Rose. I’ve only just starting learning, but I can chop things,” he offered hopefully.

“Great!” she enthused with a smile at him, and he seemed to glow under her praise, his back straightening and his chest puffing out a little. “You can help me chop up these vegetables. Make sure you chop them up really small, because one of my friends doesn’t like vegetables.”

He nodded sagely. “His Highness doesn’t like vegetables, either. He’s the one I’m learning to cook for.” Taking the knife from her, he turned to the onion on the cutting board, exclaiming in a high, ringing voice, “Very well. Chop chop!”

Laura huffed a laugh at this, and he grinned up at her with bright, sparkling eyes. She heard a click, and she looked up to see Prompto lowering his camera.

“Oh. Em. Gee,” Prompto said as he passed in front of the table. “That—was adorable.”

“Heh, yeah, kinda,” Noctis said from behind them. He opened his mouth to say more, but seemed to think better of it, turning away to set up the camp chairs.

After a minute spent washing the mushrooms and watching Ignis handle his knife as proficiently as any chef at Arpège, Laura felt Gladio’s tentative mind approach before he leaned suddenly in their field of view. Ignis flinched like a nervous horse, but he recovered quickly, pretending nothing had happened.

Gladio glanced anxiously at the boy, then said quietly to Laura, “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure,” she said before turning to Ignis. “This shouldn’t take long. Go ahead and finish with the vegetables. But don’t worry about having to watch anything else. If anything burns, it’s my fault, okay?”

He nodded, looking down to the knife and carrot in his hands. “Yes, Miss Rose.”

When they had stepped to the edge of the haven, she could see that the expression on Gladio’s face was uneasy as he ran a hand through his hair. “What did I _do_? I swear I didn’t mean to scare him like that, and now he jumps every time I get near him. I’m usually really good with kids.”

Laura placed a hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I think your uh . . . size combined with the unfamiliar situation just frightened him is all,” she hedged. The adult Ignis was obviously a very reserved and private man, and if they didn’t know his secrets, nothing could be gained by her telling them what she suspected. This was already in the past, and there was nothing any of them could do to change it, if her suspicions were even true to begin with.

“Hey, Ignis,” she heard Prompto say behind her. “You all right buddy? You got blood on your shirt. Didn’t we just give you a potion? Did an old injury open up or something?”

Laura turned around to see him pointing at a stripe of blood about six inches long slashed across the mud-smeared linen covering Ignis’s back. She thought frantically to when he may have injured himself in such a manner since meeting him and came up blank.

 _Bloody hell,_ she thought, the sinking feeling in her chest combining with her nausea. _Here it comes._ There was still the slim chance that she’d been wrong about him, but it was beginning to look less and less likely. In fact, if this was what she thought it was, it was even worse than she’d feared.

Ignis’s eyes went wide as saucers as he turned around. “Do I? I must apologize for appearing in such a state. I must have fallen at some point and scraped myself. Might you point me in the direction of your washing equipment? I can clean it up immediately before the stain sets.” His voice was calm and his expression neutral, but she could see the tremor in his little hands betraying him as he carefully set the knife down on the cutting board next to his perfectly cubed carrots.

Laura closed her eyes for a moment, wishing with one last hope that this somehow wasn’t so, but all the signs were there and present. Even at this age, he was already learning how to physically suppress every emotion she had felt roiling in his mind—and that goddamn subservience. God, no child deserved this, but Ignis’s heart was so gentle, so sweet, so special.

She opened her eyes to see Noctis clench his jaw and take a step toward Ignis. “To hell with the damned shirt, Ignis. You’re hurt!” He summoned a potion and advanced on the boy.

“Noctis, don’t—” Laura called, but he ignored her. Ignis took a small step back and froze, his eyes slamming shut, but his chin held high and his jaw clenched, ready to face whatever he thought Noctis was going to do.

Noctis skidded to a halt at Ignis’s reaction, and all three men turned their shocked faces to Laura for guidance. Carefully approaching the kitchen area, she slowly reached behind Ignis to turn off the heat before he took another step back and got burned. Then she crouched in front of him. His face was carefully blank, his slight body still, but his mind seemed to be moving like a skittering mouse. Searching his eyes, she saw that fear made manifest in his contracted, darting pupils.

“Hey there, it’s all right,” she soothed, running her fingers up and down his forearms. “I’ve got this stuff that can take out any stain, any time,” she said, thinking of Ignis’s own homemade stain remover sadly. “But we can’t have you bleeding out here in the wild. It might attract some dangerous animals. They may not be able to get into the haven, but we certainly don’t want them surrounding us all night either.”

She summoned one of her tighter-fitting black t-shirts from their armiger. Turning around and grabbing the potion from Noctis, she hissed, “You all should leave now.”

“No way. We’re not going anywhere until I know what the hell is going on,” Noctis growled. Behind him, Prompto and Gladio nodded furiously.

“On your own heads . . .,” she said ominously. Honestly, though this would be mortifying for Ignis when he returned, if he remembered, it was probably for the best that this was happening. It was time for Ignis to learn how to share his burdens, and it was time for Noctis to grow up.

It seemed that despite Regis’s best efforts, the weight of Noctis’s destiny had affected him far more than she had understood. His mind was always clouded over by a haze of depression to the point where she could get no more information than that from him—until he’d returned from the Tomb of the Wise, his mind reeling with heartbreak, anger, and resigned resolve. Still, the lessons he needed to learn before this was over hadn’t changed, and she was going to have to kick him in the ass to get him moving, just as Cor likely had. That haze that had settled over his mind seemed to have blinded him to all but his own fate. She could see clearly how much he cared for each of his friends, fiercely so, but damnit, he never said a thing and was too wrapped up in his own admittedly prodigious problems to notice. Like father, like son, and she didn’t want him to have to experience the same regret Regis had.

She turned back around, kneeling before Ignis. “Don’t mind them,” she said. “They’re just concerned for your wellbeing; they don’t like to see people hurt. Unfortunately, they have the manners of a herd of galloping garulas.” He let out a tiny chuckle of amusement. “Can you turn around and take off your shirt for me? I can crack the potion and get it soaking. Then I have this one here for you to put on.”

He hesitated briefly, but then nodded. “Yes, Miss Rose.”

His long, nimble fingers made quick work of the row of pearlescent plastic buttons before he turned around. She noticed that he paused for a moment before shrugging the shirt from his shoulders, and she had to briefly close her eyes to contain the heartbreak she knew was coming.

As the skin of his back was revealed, she couldn’t help but exclaim softly, “Ohhh, Ignis . . ..”

He’d spoken of his younger years often with her, usually describing his duties to Noctis or the extent of his education. She could tell that he’d felt terribly alone, even with the Prince as a near constant companion when he wasn’t in school. Still, he’d never spoken about anyone in his life with the kinds of feelings that would give her a clue as to who might have done this to him—likely because it just wasn’t in him to hate. For certain, he could be driven to violence and even ruthlessness when the situation called for it—but never hatred. All that pain and misery and loneliness, and it had just made him kind.

“What the _hell_?” Noctis exclaimed, not bothering to lower his voice, and she saw Ignis twitch a little at his tone.

“Oh my gods,” Prompto said in a low, tremulous voice.

“Fuck,” Gladio muttered.

Ignis’s back was a crisscross of white scars, red welts that were still puffed up like biscuits in an oven, and scabbed stripes. The largest scab was seeping blood, where it looked like he had, in fact, reopened the old wound.

“Please, accept my apologies. I’m so sorry,” Ignis whispered, his voice heavy.

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” she said softly, wrestling down the tears threatening. If he could remain this stoic, the least she could do was stay strong enough to comfort him.

Taking a deep breath, she cracked the potion over his back, which sealed the old wound, but did nothing to heal the scabs and scars. She turned him around and handed him her t-shirt, which he took with a small bow of thanks and quickly donned. When he was finished, she opened her arms to him. Ignis furrowed his brow and tilted his head, confused for a moment, but hesitantly reached back. Careful not to touch his back, she wrapped her arms up his shoulders, placing her hands on the back of his neck and hugging him as fiercely as she dared.

Then, knowing the boys would ask him anyway and likely be none too gentle about it, she said, “May we please know how you got hurt?”

Ignis closed his eyes and nodded before hanging his head to look at the floor. “I made a mistake. Unfortunately, I make errors sometimes, and the professor must punish me—or has the other tutors punish me. But I promise I shall do my very best as long as I’m a guest here.”

Noctis inhaled sharply through his nose before croaking, “What kinda things does he punish you for?”

“Who said the professor was a he?” Laura asked coldly, pointing out Noctis’s slip in a way that Ignis wouldn’t question. Despite the emotion of this situation, he needed to remember that they were all still in very grave danger. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter right now.”

“The _hell_ it doesn’t!” he roared. Though his voice sounded enraged, she could see the anguish plain on his face and in his mind. There were very few things that could evoke an emotional response in Noctis, she knew already, and hurting his friends was one of them. Hurting his oldest friend, the one that had raised him more than his own father, might just be enough to phase him back in time so he could personally murder Ignis’s tutors.

Ignis was frozen again, but he whispered, “Please don’t be upset. The error was mine.”

Only Ignis’s words seemed to still Noctis’s outburst, which allowed Laura to step away toward the stove.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” she said as she poured warm water through a strainer full of gyokuro leaves until she had a potful of electric green tea. “My friend here,” she motioned to Prompto before turning to assemble a bowl of vegetables, rice, and tofu, “is going to hang out with you while we go over there and have a chat.” She poured the tea over the bowl and turned back to place it in Ignis’s hands. “I’ve set you up with dinner, so why don’t you go sit by the campfire and eat, hey?”

“Please, don’t fight on my account,” he pleaded, looking up at her with overly large eyes.

“No, sweetheart,” she said gently. “These guys always could use a good lecture on manners.”

“But I thought he was the commander,” Ignis said, his brow crinkling in confusion.

“Ahh, I did say that, didn’t I? You have a very good memory.” Which, if she wasn’t careful, was going to get them all killed. “But he is _their_ commander, not mine.” She cupped her hand to his cheek, running her thumb along his cheekbone to wipe away a smudge of dirt. “You sit and eat, and when I get back, we’ll see what we can do about those older injuries of yours.”

She led Gladio and Noctis away by the elbows but stopped next to Prompto before they’d stepped onto the haven ramp. His eyes were tight and sad, but he gave her a tremulous smile in greeting.

“If he finishes his bowl, get him another, even if he says he’s not hungry. He’s too damned thin. And for gods’ sakes, do not say a word to him, no matter how politely he asks for information. He’s not quite a master at manipulating people with those manners of his, but he’s getting there.”

Prompto frowned but bobbed his head in understanding. “Yeah, I gotcha.”

“I’m sure the others will catch you up after.” She let go of Gladio and placed a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes and hoping that she could touch that so very insecure part of him with her words. “I don’t mean to exclude you. You know I value you and your opinion just as much as the others’, right? I just need someone to keep an eye on him, and you’re the only one I can trust not to intimidate him.”

His response was a more genuine smile that made his cerulean eyes light up a little. “Thanks,” he whispered.

When they were out of earshot but still close enough to see the haven, Noctis turned on her.

“ _You_ don’t seem surprised. How long have you been keeping _this_ from us?”

“I had an idea the moment I met him, but I didn’t know for certain until I saw his back. Honestly, I’ve known you all for a little more than two weeks. What was I going to say? ‘Hey, Noctis, your friend there seems a little on the submissive and obsessive side. Is it possible he was abused as a child?’”

He paled at the frank way she’d named his condition and went still. “He never said a word,” he whispered, “I just—I don’t even know—”

“Of course he never said a word. Protecting you is who he _is—_ that one glimmer of the real Ignis. Protecting those he loves is what makes a man of his heart summon a blade and force it into flesh. You should know yourself that the inclination doesn’t come naturally.”

“I guess,” Noctis replied. “We’ve been trained our whole lives, but it’s different out here—more real. He just did everything so perfect. Was always getting on my nerves to be perfect too.”

“He gets on your nerves cause he knows you can do better,” Gladio said, folding his arms over his chest and staring down at Noctis.

“He’s more complex than just being a stuffy perfectionist. Don’t you understand what it takes for a man to become what he is? To be considerate to the point of pain? To anticipate every need around him to the point of obsession? What did you think drove him all those times he sat up, escorting us merrily around Leide, even though he had just undergone every trial that we had? Where did he derive the energy to forage, plan, and cook all those meals even after that? To stay up after you all had gone to bed and work on laundry and finances? It certainly wasn’t inspired by the Ebony!”

Noctis looked down at his boots. “Guess I didn’t really think about it like that. Just thought he was . . . I dunno, picky.”

“A good deal of it is from his love and duty to you, but those habits don’t just form, Noctis. It’s a testament to the strength of his will that he’s as well-adjusted as he is, but those monsters undermined the foundations of his spirit, wresting away his self-worth so they could re-mold him into a servant. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were true of the others as well, in some form or another,” she made a motion to Gladio.

Gladio stepped back, his hands raised. “Hey, leave me out of this, thanks. I had a good childhood.”

“Thank gods that’s so. But has Noctis ever taken a moment to wonder what it was like to be raised with the entire city believing you were nothing more than a meathead used to protect the life of your king? Forgive me, I know you value your position more highly than that, as you most certainly should, but I also know what it’s like to be judged for what you are destined to do and not who you really are.”

“Who I am doesn’t matter when I have a job to do,” Gladio said, the arms over his chest tightening.

“Yes it does matter, Gladio! Of course it matters when that which protects the King is a man and not a piece of armor. When was the last time someone asked you about your other hobbies? Those books you’re always reading? A stereotypical soldier certainly doesn’t study the tea ceremonies of ancient Lucis for combat research. It says that the man who shields the King has a mind as well. It makes you a more formidable opponent, Gladio.” 

Gladio went silent at this, staring at the dirt at his feet with his jaw clenched and his posture stiff. Noctis could only gape up at him, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. At the anguished color of his thoughts, Laura softened. He was so young, and his life was so burdened. He wasn’t _supposed_ to have all the answers to life yet—none of them were. But unfortunately, as usual, fate was giving him little choice.

Laura continued in a gentler tone, “I told you to cherish them, Noctis, and I know you do. But you’re still not getting it. Ignis _always_ takes care of you, and he truly does enjoy it because he loves you so. But when was the last time you took care of him? Loved him in return? You weren’t the only one dragged into this fucked up destiny of yours, and you need to stick together. Cherishing them means taking a look around once in a while, despite your own problems, and _noticing._ ”

Noctis’s expression was blank as he stared at the ground and intoned, “He always noticed everything—everything about me. Even now,” he chuckled bitterly as he closed his eyes and shook his head, “I had to field a dozen questions while we were setting up camp. Kept asking for our names and titles, how we preferred to be addressed . . ..”

“You know as well as anyone that Ignis doesn’t tolerate ambiguity. If you didn’t give him all the details, he didn’t know enough not to make a mistake, and he got punished.”

Noctis’s face paled in horror and understanding as she continued, “Yes, see what I mean? _Every_ aspect of his identity has been influenced by this. I shudder to think how he must be cursing my name at my scant instructions back in Insomnia right now,” she said. “Talk about ambiguity.”

Gladio cleared his throat and looked up at her. “I wouldn’t worry about our Ignis. If any of us could figure out how to prevent a paradox, it would be him.”

“Well, I doubt his education exposed him to much in the way of temporal mechanics, but he is an intelligent, resourceful man.”

She grew quiet, looking back at the haven where Ignis sat in his own camp chair, his bowl of ochazuke balanced carefully in his lap as he dabbed daintily at his mouth with a handkerchief. Even grown up, deep down, he was still that little boy, with a mind sharper than any blade and a heart that loved more than all of Eos and so desperate to be loved back. He just hid it better than most.

“You love them all, Noctis,” she said in a low voice as she watched the boy. “But you need to show them now and then.”

“All right,” he said, running both his hands through the sides of his hair, “I get it. And I’m noticing _now_. So what do we do? We can’t just send him back.”

“But we have to,” Gladio interrupted. “If he doesn’t go back, he doesn’t grow up to come with us. Paradox. And we can’t tell him anything or prepare him or teach him to defend himself . . . shit.”

“Or the world will end,” Noctis finished.

Laura nodded. They seemed to be catching on faster than most. “Welcome to the world of being time sensitive. I ask that you please keep this moment in mind the next time you scream at me for withholding information.”

She sighed heavily, looking back toward the haven. Plans were going to have to change. She considered what she was about to do and how much energy it was going to take up. Was it even possible? Reaching out to the slumbering mind around her neck, she spoke.

_Eilendil, I may need your help on this one. Can you keep watch?_

Sending her memories of the last few hours, she could feel the worry and irritation in equal measure before he replied, _And ensure that you do not kill yourself? You know I do not have much energy to give should you need it. Are you certain the child is worth it?_

 _Yes, he’s worth it,_ she growled at him. _They’re all worth it, and you know it._

_Your hearts have always ruled your head._

_Not always, as you well know. Still, it’s a positive trait, in my opinion. I’ve worked long and hard to get it back, so you may as well get used to it._

_I have my doubts. It is going to get you killed one of these days._ He huffed at her and finally said, _Yes, of course I shall keep watch, but for you—not them._

_Thank you, dearest. I do love you, you know._

_No need to remind me. I am not a twenty-year-old child._

Satisfied she had at least his reluctant support, she considered her spell and reached out to the twisted, writhing timelines, which still felt unnatural and nearly unreadable in her head. But there, in the middle of all the chaos sat one, very simple, almost smug-looking fact: this was _supposed_ to happen—had _already_ happened. She couldn’t see the exact path of the lines, but there was some sort of time loop that needed to be closed, which left her path forward very, very clear. If she didn’t complete the loop, she could end the world in much the same way Ignis could—a potential paradox hidden within a potential paradox.

“I heard you mention a base on the walk home. Is that our next destination?” she asked Noctis and Gladio.

“Y—yeah,” Noctis said hesitantly, confused by the change in topic, “Cor wants us to take it out.”

“Is that something you can do without my help, once Ignis is back?”

“Yeah, Cor’s gonna meet us there. But where will you be?”

“Out of commission, most likely. Listen, I can heal his back—”

“But what does that matter if we’re just gonna send him back to Professor Libri and his other tutors?” Gladio interrupted.

“Let me finish. I can heal his back. I can also craft a spell that will protect him in a way that won’t disrupt the timelines. They can still hurt his soul, though. And by gods, if there was anything I could do about that and still leave him Ignis, I would in a heartbeat.” Her eyes drifted between Gladio’s to Noctis’s alert faces. “He’ll just have to rely on your friendship to pull him through as unscathed as possible.”

“I was there, once I got to know him,” Gladio said. He clenched his jaw and nodded emphatically to accentuate his point. “Still am.”

Noctis nodded sharply without hesitation. “Do whatever you need to do to protect him. And I promise, I’ll do the same, from now on, for all you guys.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, you know,” she warned.

“So you’re gonna heal his back and do your thing. Then what?” Gladio asked.

“I’ll be exhausted after using such a powerful spell. You’ll need to leave as soon as you’ve eaten, but I’ll need one of you to keep an eye on the haven during the day. I’m afraid I won’t be able to watch him as closely as I would like. Stay out of sight, though, especially with the camper in full view of the haven.”

“Will you be all right?” Noctis asked.

Honestly, she had no idea, but she replied without hesitation, “I’m always all right. Let’s get on with this, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had already outlined and written most of these chapters when I stumbled across [Ginia's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginia/pseuds/Ginia) Gladnis pieces, but I had to stop reading because of the similarities so as not to be influenced too much. If you're a fan of Gladnis, I highly recommend checking out this author's amazing work, particularly [ Coming Up Who We Are.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14348679/chapters/33117636/)  
> Edit: Oh god, reading those first five chapters of Ginia's piece again, I was TOTALLY influenced while writing my second draft. There are even language similarities. Seriously, if you like this plot point and have somehow found this story without finding Ginia's, go read it.


	17. Chapter 17

By the time they had returned, Ignis had finished eating and was eyeing Prompto, who was looking distinctly nervous. “Hey! You’re back!”

“Hey!” Laura replied cheerfully to put Ignis and Prompto at ease. “Let’s eat.” As she passed by Prompto, she whispered, “Thank you.”

Prompto nodded and said, “Anything for Iggy.”

It seemed she’d had the accidental foresight to use ingredients for supper that hailed from a universe more amenable to her digestion, which was fortunate, as the spell whose logic she was currently running through with Eilendil in her head was going to drain her considerably. She would be needing as much help with recovery, small assistance though it was, as she could get.

_There’s no way I can integrate the timelines to take the energy from me every time he gets hurt. It would kill me instantly._

_What if you used the boy as a source as well?_

_Come now. You know if it would kill me, it would certainly kill him—kill the both of us. You saw what the time magic did to me in Insomnia. What if I created a reservoir in him with Lliamérian magic?_

_With the energy coming from him? That would work, but for how long could you sustain the spell? You cannot protect him until he meets you. That is too long—too much._

Ignis was twenty-two years old now, and judging by his comments about learning to cook, his past counterpart was between nine and ten years old. If she played it safe and assumed he was nine, that made thirteen years to cover. Eilendil was right; she couldn’t sustain the energy for that long, not on this world, anyway. She’d known that he’d attended university at fifteen and joined the Crownsguard at sixteen; perhaps then would be safe?

_I could survive seven years._

_These humans will be the death of you, Laurelín._

Laura ignored his comment, already well-versed on his opinions of her more harebrained schemes. She pulled away and glanced around the campfire. Ignis sat quietly, taking in every movement of his surroundings from his chair as the rest of them ate—from the flickering flames of the campfire to the broth dripping from Prompto’s spoon to the flash of movement of a wild sabertusk in the distance.

“If you’re still hungry, Ignis, please help yourself to as much as you would like,” she said.

“No thank you, Miss Rose. The . . . gentleman, whose name I’m afraid I don’t know yet, gave me two bowls. I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“This stuff’s different,” Noctis said, stabbing at the bowl with his spoon. “A little too . . . healthy though.”

“How did you make that broth? I’ve never tasted alstrooms that strong,” Prompto said.

Gladio took another bite, swallowed, and said, “Yeah, what in the name of Bahamut’s balls is this stuff, anyway? It’s fucking awesome.”

Laura cast an amused glance at Ignis’s wide-eyed, scandalized expression before choosing her words carefully and replying, “It’s a dish called ochazuke. I dipped into my own ingredients stash to make this, so I’m afraid you won’t find anything like it around here. The broth is actually a tea called gyokuro konacha, not an alstroom, though the dish does contain a type of mushroom similar to alstrooms. Still, it’s the tea you’re tasting. Everything else should be pretty straightforward for you.”

“Well damn, girl, gonna have to have you cook more often for us, eh Iggy?” Gladio said with a smile and a wink at Ignis.

Ignis swallowed, mouthing the word “Iggy” with a questioning look. “Me, sir? Oh, I don’t know. It was the most delicious meal I’ve had in recent memory, however,” he added diplomatically to Laura.

“Thank you, dear,” she said with a smile.

When they had finished eating and the dishes had been cleaned and put away, Laura sighed deeply. They needed to get this over with. The boys had already lingered for far too long, and every moment increased the chance of a slip of the tongue. She approached Ignis, who was still sitting by the fire near the three men, and crouched down in front of him.

“Ignis? The boys are going to leave soon. Then it’s just going to be you and me until you go back. Will you let me heal your back before they go?”

He pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose with a finger before looking down at her. “You needn’t waste more potions on my account, Miss Rose.”

“This won’t be a potion. Please?” she pleaded, hating herself for manipulating him like this, but it wasn’t as though she could ignore the potential paradox, either. “It would make me feel so much better if I knew you were completely healed.”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I shall do anything you wish if it pleases you,” he smiled at her. For what seemed the millionth time that day, she smiled back as her hearts broke. Subservient Ignis was _not_ someone she ever wanted to see again, and she would spend the next two days chasing him off if she had to.

She straightened before sitting down in the chair next to him. “Please, come stand in front of me.”

There was a spark of apprehension in his eyes and mind again that she wished she could quash, but her own fear was welling up within her. This Ignis had not yet grown accustomed to her energy signature, and while she had adapted her touch to the people of this world, her own magic remained the exception. This might hurt him, a lot, but she had no way of knowing.

But _of course_ , now she realized that her spell in his body for seven years was what made it so easy for him to help her acclimate when they’d first met. She’d thought at the time he was just being polite and hiding his reaction to her, as was typical for him. But no, this, and the consequences resulting from it, was part of the time loop she had to close. At least she knew that he would survive this intact, and with only a vague memory of these events.

As he stood in front of her, she took both of her hands in his. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. This is going to be a little different from a potion,” she said, looking up into his wide, viridian eyes. “I’m going to put my hands on your back and do a spell. It might feel tickly; it might itch. It might hurt, Ignis. I wish I could say that it wasn’t going to, but it’s different for everyone. If it does hurt, it should only be for a second, and then you’ll be as good as new. All you have to do is hold still.”

Knowing exactly what was expected of him, he nodded seriously. At her request, he turned and lifted his shirt so that his back was bared to her. The light from the campfire flickered against the marks, casting eerie moving shadows against his vulnerable back, and she clenched her jaw, closing her eyes to look away from the sight for a moment. She could hear Gladio cracking his knuckles as he clenched his fists, and she hoped his anger on Ignis’s behalf didn’t frighten the boy.

Scooting to the very edge of her chair, she summoned the magic to the palms of her hands and brought them to the skin of his lower back. She felt him inhale as she touched him, but he didn’t move otherwise. Taking a deep breath, she cast the spell of knitting, blending, healing, and renewal.

“Náranath araīm, logara oá lliana. Mumúren ath narathat, la thana.”

Moving her hand upward as she repeated the spell, she watched as the scabs and scars disappeared, leaving fresh, unmarked skin. From his stance and mind, Ignis didn’t seem to be in pain, and the draw on her energy and the burn from the Crystal was bearable. But this was the easy part.

When the last of the white scars had faded to his natural skin tone, she paused with both her hands placed vertically along his spine. Here, she switched to song, which was better for more complex, emotional spells. She sang of Ignis’s kind and gentle heart, his indomitable spirit, and his fierce and beautiful soul. Next, she sang of the darkness he would face, but also of the family he would find in the three men currently watching them—infusing a message of hope enduring. Then, she sang of her protection, vowing that she would always watch over him. Strictly speaking, these words would not affect the spell, but she hoped that by adding them, they would bring him some comfort over the coming years and preserve his mind.

Turning to the heart of the spell, she built the foundation for the reservoir, which would lie dormant in him for the next seven years—filling with his own energy as he could spare it and activating when he needed to protect and heal himself. As she sang, she held the power back in her hands, letting it build until a blinding silver light had built between her palms and the skin of Ignis’s back.

Finally, she released the magic, and a silver glow enveloped him, starting at the point of contact, before spreading over his entire body and disappearing. Laura threw her head back and sucked in a stabbing breath of air, the searing pain too much for her hide as she felt her life force transfer from her to Ignis. Beneath her hands, she could feel that Ignis had gone rigid as well, and she hoped she wasn’t hurting him too badly. God, she’d never wanted to be the one responsible for hurting him.

Her energy continued to drain to cover those seven years, and for the second time that day, she struggled to maintain her hold on consciousness as angry tongues of lava licked at her every nerve. _Come on, damn it,_ she gritted her teeth.

_Laurelín, stop this!_

She wasn’t sure why he would even say such a thing. He knew as well as she that once the spell was released, the energy was committed whether it killed her or not.

_It’s almost done. Don’t give me any energy unless you must. We may need it later._

His voice grew anxious. _If you die here, you leave me in this world for eternity, without even eyes to see. Please, don’t leave me._

_I won’t, Eilendil; I promise._

After what seemed forever but was only seven seconds, the drain slowed, then halted as her hands slipped from Ignis’s back. When he stepped away from her, she discovered that she was weaker than she’d thought, as she sagged forward, nearly tumbling out of the chair and into the fire, but Gladio was there in a flash to catch her.

“Easy there,” he said in a low, deep voice, wrapping her in his arms and lifting her. “I’ve gotcha.”

“My hero,” she said breathily.

_By the light of all the stars, you are the stupidest creature I have ever encountered. I cannot condone this. Wake me when we leave this forsaken world._

_I love you too, dearest._

“Ignis, are you all right?” she called softly, not able to see him past Gladio’s massive arm holding her head up.

“Yes, Miss Rose,” came his small voice from below. “I’m sorry.”

“S’alright, big guy,” Gladio called over his shoulder as he headed for the tent. “Stay out here for a minute, will ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

Gladio carried her into the tent and placed her gingerly on top of her sleeping bag, summoning her favorite blanket from the armiger and laying it over her. He settled for a moment on his knees, looking her over.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay by yourself tonight?”

“Keep your voice low so he doesn’t hear. But yeah. Ignis should sleep through the night. I should be conscious, at least, by morning,” she said as she struggled to keep her eyes open. “Don’t come back until the third morning, but stay close. I’ll send Ignis if he comes back sooner.”

“Will do. We’ll be nearby if you need us. We’ll have to keep outta sight, we’re so close. Bet we could hear you if you shouted loud enough. Just keep your cool if you see a spider or something, yeah?”

“Pfft. What would I call you for then? Bet you’d scream like a little girl, Princess,” she mumbled.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she forced her eyes to open enough to look up at him. “Thanks,” he said in a low, rumbling bass, “for everything you did—everything you said. You were right.”

She smiled as he shuffled to leave the tent, but he stopped when she said, “Gladio? I know I’ve only known you guys for a couple of weeks, but I just wanted you to know, I do love you all. I would have done the same for any of you.”

He swallowed, his nostrils flaring as his eyes shifted just left of her head. “I know I’ve been kind of a shit to you, but gods damn if you don’t make it hard with all your alien stuff. But thinking of all you’ve done for us . . . you’re family now. We don’t got much left.”

“Gladio . . .,” she said, touched, but unsure of what else to say to ease his pain.

“G’night, Princess,” he said, turning away from her. “See ya in a couple of days. Don’t worry ‘bout a thing with us. You just take care of Iggy so he can come back to us.”

“Night, Glad,” she sighed. 

When Ignis came in about a minute later, he immediately kneeled at her side, spreading his hands wide and hovering them above her where she lay.

“Miss Rose, please, I must beg for your forgiveness,” he breathed. “If I had known that I was going to incapacitate you . . ..”

“It’s all right, dear. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You’re worth it.”

He shook his head. “Forgive me, but I’m just a servant. I cannot be worth—”

“Listen to me,” she interrupted. “Station doesn’t mean anything at all in this world. It’s all nonsense, dear. Your worth is measured by your heart, and you have the most incredible heart, Ignis. You’re worth more than the stars. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

He wouldn’t remember, she knew, but she had to tell him—to try—at least.

“I’ll remember; I promise. Miss Rose?” She hummed in response. “Are you an _Astral_?” he asked breathlessly.

She couldn’t help herself; she let out a barked “Ha!” Some things never changed.

When he blanched, she softened her voice. “Sorry,” she said, “but no. I’m nobody, really.”

His rushed outburst made it clear he’d been sitting on his observations quite long enough and wanted answers. “But your magic is nothing like that of the Crownsguard or Kingsglaive. It glows silver, while the Crystal magic is blue. I saw it shining behind me when you healed me. And the Crystal’s magic doesn’t work through song. And I didn’t recognize that language you sang. And the way you summon things is different. And I’ve never seen swords like yours before. And . . ..”

“You notice far too much for your own good,” she said on a sigh. This conversation needed to end, and soon. “I’m sorry, but I really can’t tell you.”

A frustrated expression flitted across his aristocratic features, but he remained silent. “You must be tired,” she said, closing her eyes. She certainly was. “Lie down and go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Yes, Miss Rose,” he said reluctantly before settling into his sleeping bag.

***

When Laura opened her eyes, attempting to shake her head free of the cobwebs of sleep that still threatened to hold her to her pillow, she knew it was far too early; the moon was still casting the tent in an almost ethereal blue light. Yet something had awoken her—a heavy exhale, followed by a deep, sucking inhalation.

“Ignis?” She rolled to her side and sat up, waiting for the wave of dizziness that washed over her to dissipate before she reached out to him. “Hey, I’m here,” she called softly.

A tiny body lunged for her, and she could feel his face burying in her neck and his thin arms wrapping around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry; I’m not usually like this,” he said between pants. “I don’t know what’s come over me. I can’t seem to control it.”

She held him close, running her fingers gently through his hair. When he pulled away, she could see the unshed tears shining in his eyes.

“It’s all right. A nightmare’s to be expected after all you’ve gone through today, and doubtless this is your first time sleeping outdoors. It can be disorienting after life in the city, especially all those strange sounds out there in the dark. But we’re safe here in the haven,” she said. “Here. Lie down on your stomach for me, will you? There’s something my gran used to do for me when I had bad dreams.”

It was about time someone did something kind to this child’s back.

When he laid back down, she placed her hand under his shirt and ran the very tips of her fingernails gently over his new skin, starting across the very tops of his shoulder blades and working in slow, swirling patterns down to the middle of his torso and back up again. His lungs expanded as he took a deep breath, and his body slowly collapsed under her hand as he sighed and snuggled deeper into his sleeping bag.

“This was my favorite thing in the world when I was your age. I loved how it gave me the chills,” she said softly in case he was falling asleep.

“I like it,” he whispered as though it were a dark and shameful confession. “No one has ever . . ..”

She waited for him to finish, but no more words came. “We’ll have to see what we can do about that,” she said. After a few moments of silence, she began humming absent-mindedly, already in the space between sleep and awake. Eventually, she felt his mind slow, and they both fell back to sleep until sunrise.

***

The headache and searing timelines were still sending streams of fire down every fiber of her being the next morning. She’d only just gotten used to the sensation of the absence of pain since aligning, but if these mad situations kept popping up, she supposed she’d better get accustomed to this feeling instead. Stretching out a hand, she was alarmed to find a cold sleeping bag next to her, and she bolted upright, holding her head in both hands to keep the tent from spinning. God, she felt like she’d been hit in the head with a troll’s club—again.

“Ignis?” she called out, hoping he was nearby, hoping the boys were keeping watch.

“I’ll be right in,” came his reply from not far away. Relieved at his quick response, she flopped back down onto her pillow.

When he entered the tent carrying a carafe full of sheep’s milk and a tray with two bowls full of what looked like oatmeal, he said, “Apologies, Miss Rose, but it took me longer than anticipated to lay my dress shirt near the fire without getting it soiled. I’m afraid I couldn’t locate an iron.”

He’d been busy doing more than that this morning, as his hair was wet, but styled, his trousers damp, but clean.

“You started a fire?” she asked with some alarm. Ignis might have been a genius, but he was still a child of the city. “And how did you manage to make breakfast? You don’t have access to the armiger.”

He shook his head. “The fire was already going when I woke up, and these were sitting on a chair that had been moved to right in front of the tent flap. Doubtless it was one of your company.”

“Yes,” Laura sighed, the corner of her lip twitching. “They can be very thoughtful at times.”

He placed the tray on the floor of the tent and sat down cross legged next to her. “Are you all right?” he asked earnestly, his green eyes bright and wide in the morning light streaming into the tent.

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” she said, sitting up slowly and reaching for one of the bowls. “I might need a little help getting around today though.”

His expression grew serious as he nodded sharply at her. “Leave everything to me, Miss Rose. I’ll take care of you.”

Laura shook her head. “No, Ignis. It doesn’t work like that. We take care of each other, all right?”

The smile that spread across his face was sweet and boyish, enough to crinkle his eyes at the corners. “All right.”

Once Ignis had cleared away and even washed their dishes, they spent the rest of the day in leisure together. He was a bossy little caretaker, insisting that she not lift a finger to assist him, but she indulged his miniature authoritarian streak for now, despite her distaste at being coddled—even if it was by a precocious nine-year-old.

As the sun rose higher and the heat in the tent grew to be unbearable, Laura pressed a small crack into one of Noctis’s ice spells, and they lounged in the crumpled bedding in the cool tent for most of the day. She found _The Little Prince_ in her Pocket and figured the absurdity and the alien in the story would explain away anything off, so she read to him. Several times, she would open her eyes to discover that she had fallen asleep, and he had taken the book from her to read in a soft, dulcet voice. Both times they emerged from the tent, with her arm wrapped around Ignis’s shoulders as he supported her weight long enough to guide her to the outhouse, they found that a tray of Cup Noodles had been left by the renewed campfire. A rush of tenderness washed over Laura at the sight of Gladio’s, most likely, sincere attempts at taking care of them.

As night fell, Ignis reluctantly led her out to the fire and helped her sit down before settling into his own chair next to her.

“You should be resting,” he said with a frown of disapproval.

“I _am_ resting!” she argued, sticking her tongue out at him. “See? Sitting down and everything!”

“It’s my fault you’re hurt,” he replied, looking down at the fire, a crease forming in the middle of his scrunched brow.

“Hey, now, none of that,” she said, leaning over to wrap her arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer to the chair arms between them. “I had us come out here so we could watch the sunset and count the stars as they come out.”

“The sunset was lovely, even through the clouds, and the mountains in the distance—stunning. I do wish I could have seen the stars though. I used to read from my astronomy book to Prince Noctis when we were younger, but I’ve never gotten to actually see them. I’m sure it’s quite the sight.”

“We’ll try again tomorrow, if we can,” she said.

He sat back with a sigh, crossing his legs and placing his hands on top of his knees. “This was more than enough.”

They didn’t have to say a word to each other as he did his best to support her weight to the tent and settled down in his sleeping bag on his stomach. Laura reached out immediately, spreading her fingertips wide between his shoulder blades and humming soothingly to somewhat cover up the rustling and howling of the wild animals and the creaking and shrieking of the daemons appearing nearby. She so wished she could put him to sleep telepathically so he could get an uninterrupted night’s rest, but there was no possible way to obtain his permission without explaining what she was doing. So she remained awake with him, brushing her nails over his skin and humming until she felt his mind drift off.

Laura was strong enough the next morning to walk short distances on her own, but her knees would start shaking by the time she got back from the outhouse. She couldn’t bear to spend another day cooped up in the tent, so she slathered Ignis’s face, neck, and arms in sunscreen, and they spent the day out by the campfire.

To her surprise, he requested more ochazuke when she asked him if he had any preferences for lunch, but of course he wouldn’t let her stand long enough to prepare it herself. He allowed her to start the rice and the tofu, but insisted she sit down while she directed him on the preparation for the vegetables and putting the bowls together. When it came to the tea, however, he paused.

“May I please try some of this on its own?”

“Of course,” she said, summoning a mug and getting up to pour some from the pot.

His eyes widened when he took a sip. “This is remarkable. Why does it taste so much like mushrooms if there aren’t mushrooms in it?” he asked.

She knew he was gifted child, so she decided not to talk down to him as she answered, “The leaves are grown in the shade toward the end, which reduces the rate of photosynthesis and increases theanine levels, that’s the amino acid that creates the savory flavor.”

Ignis frowned for a moment, but then he nodded once. “I see. And why does the reduction in photosynthesis increase theanine levels?”

“Sorry, I don’t know everything about everything, you know!” she laughed. “Come on. Let’s eat, and then I’ve got a very important lesson planned for today.”

Once they had finished eating, Laura summoned a blanket and laid it down at the edge of the haven, curling one edge up so that it formed a makeshift pillow on one side.

“I apologize, Miss Rose,” Ignis said, his tone calm and pleasant, but his mind coloring with unease, and she straightened and turned to see what could have upset him so suddenly. “I’m afraid I don’t have my notebook and pen with me. Do you happen to have a spare I may borrow?”

Laura shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s not that kind of lesson, sweetheart. Not all lessons are about memorizing facts and being graded.”

Once she felt his mind relax, she allowed her expression to grow glittering and euphoric. “Now come lie down. This is supposed to be fun!”

This was her favorite part of spending time with him—at any age, it would seem—showing him the wonders of his own planet. She’d tried a few times with the others: Noctis was only mildly interested; Prompto preferred a landscape based on its photographability and the presence of wildlife; and Gladio appreciated the scenery, but preferred to be left alone with it, which she could understand. With Ignis, however, his mind would go still with wonder and amazement before looking over at her with those viridian eyes lit up with delight. It reminded her of those days, so long ago, when she was nineteen and being stolen away from Earth by the Doctor to be shown the wonders of all of time and space.

Would that she could do the same for Ignis. But without a temporally shielded vehicle, she couldn’t, so she would have to settle for showing him this, which seemed enough to him, for the time being.

“My skin feels all tingly,” he said, grinning as he laid back on the rolled-up bit of the blanket. “Feels as though my skin will go crispy like in an oven.”

“Yeah, ain’t it lovely?” she beamed at him. “Wouldn’t be able to stay like this for long, but the shade from the rock’s gonna cover us up soon. But we’re not here for the sun. Nah, we’re here for that sky,” she said pointing at the never-ending stretch of cerulean above them, sprinkled with hundreds of puffy white cumulus clouds.

As usual, his mind went still for a moment before he said, “I don’t believe I shall ever tire of that sight. It’s so different every time I look up. One could always see the daylight sky in Insomnia, of course, but not like this. It’s clear of the haze of the Wall, the pollution of the city.”

“And with the clouds, ya get to pick out the shapes. Come on, whaddya see?”

It took some time, convincing him to use his imagination, but he was eventually able to relax into the exercise and master the concept with his usual level of skill. In no time at all, he was pointing out clouds with likenesses of things from his daily life: cars whose makes and models she’d never heard of, the Citadel, a ballerina, a subway train, a steaming bowl of soup, a violin, one of Noctis’s favorite television characters.

Nervous about inadvertently saying something that would point out her foreign status in this world, she stuck with mundane objects she knew existed in his world: a toothbrush, a stack of books, a cat. Then she changed tactics.

Pointing at a thoroughly ordinary-looking cloud, she said, “I see a grand banquet table, big enough to seat fifty, with a full set of fine dishes and silver, a soup tureen, and, see that little piece in the corner there? That’s the fish course.”

The look on his face was priceless as he turned to her; he gaped for a moment before arching a single eyebrow, his mouth tightening in a frown to keep from laughing in case she was serious.

“Either that, or a dualhorn,” she said, turning back to the sky to inspect the cloud again, her expression serious. “Yep,” she nodded sharply, “a _very_ complex dualhorn.”

It was the snort she heard first, and when she turned to look over at him, she saw the grin on his face and his body convulsing with silent laughter. When she let a smile grow wide across her lips and started to giggle, his eyes scrunched tight as his convulsions grew to full, unashamed snorts.

“This is the most absurd lesson I’ve ever had,” he gasped between breaths.

“Those are the best kind,” she replied with a tongue-touched smile.

Their cloud watching ended as it grew too overcast to pick out any shapes, and it appeared as though there would be another night without stars. As evening approached, Laura could feel the timelines beginning to unfurl again, the headache and nausea finally beginning to subside. A bolt of pride flashed through her as she thought of adult Ignis, wherever he was and whatever he was doing at that moment. It seemed that everything was going to turn out all right.

She and his miniature counterpart spent the rest of the evening making s’mores and trading cheesy jokes. As they readied for bed, she handed him the shirt he had arrived in.

“You might be going back tonight. You should wear this, just in case,” she said regretfully.

And just like that, the leisure of the last two days was washed away. Though his expression didn’t noticeably change, his eyes seemed to dull and his posture seemed to grow more rigid. It was then that she realized he hadn’t once asked her when or how he was getting back to Insomnia.

“This has been a most enchanting dream, Miss Rose; I hope to have it again sometime. But I do need to get back. His Highness needs me.”

“I know, dearest,” she said sweetly, drawing him into a fierce hug, wishing with everything she was she could be there to protect him when he returned. She would have to do some finagling before she left this universe to ensure he wouldn’t get into trouble for going missing these past two days. “I wish we could keep you here with us.”

He pulled away and seemed to be memorizing her features. “Will I ever see you again?” he asked.

She gave him a slow, beatific smile. “You will, someday. I promise.”

***

Ignis lay down in the tent with the strange woman who had been his guide to this dream world for the past two days. He was no fool; he knew she’d lied to him about being nobody. But then, what vision would freely admit to being an Astral?

He couldn’t seem to help the deep sigh that escaped him as he felt her nails whisper against the skin of his back, sending waves of tickling chills down his spine as she hummed that melancholy melody. As soon as he awoke from this illusion, he was going to research the name of it, along with every other odd aspect of this hallucination that had arisen. Ignis knew the scope of his own imagination, and while it was considerable, it was hardly _this_ extensive or absurd.

Dream or not, he remained awake for as long as he could possibly hold his eyelids open, soaking in the goddess’s affection until he felt her hand fall limp across his shoulder blades. It was only then that he allowed himself to weep silently.


	18. Chapter 18

_If you get hit, know the effects are temporary, but above all, you must prevent a paradox, no matter how much you might want to change things._

Those words had been the refrain playing over and over in his head for the last two days, with perhaps her expletives acting as the hook.

But it was regret that acted as the verses for Ignis as he settled into the more deserted stacks of the Royal Library. He’d spent many a night here in his university years at the tender age of fifteen, dusting off faded obscure texts on the mysterious origins of the Lucian language or scrolling through microfilms of older war coverage. At the time, the quiet solitude inside his own mind had suited him, even if he’d been rather lonely, for he had owed no one anything in those hours of silence.

But now that he had come here and fully researched what a paradox was, his duty to keep the world intact bound him there, no matter how much he wanted to run to the King and tell him everything, no matter how much he wanted to fling himself into the nearest cab and visit his parents, no matter how much he wanted to summon every weapon at his disposal and protect every last man, woman, and child from what lay ahead. A dark part of him wished that he had explored the city before rushing out of the Citadel entrance and winging his way here, just so he wouldn’t have felt obligated to obey her final instructions, just so he could claim ignorance. But no, he’d already come too close to destroying the world when he’d bumped into a ten-year-old Gladio and his father quite by accident not a minute after he’d arrived.

Looking back, he knew he couldn’t have fit more into his life than he had already, but that regret burning in him made him wonder if he had always fit in the most important things, especially knowing now that much of that which he’d spent so much time on was no longer useful after the Fall. Would it have been so awful if he’d found some graceful way to let the King know of his fond regards? He could have discovered His Majesty’s reciprocated familial affection while the King was still alive. Could Noct have gone a single day without an escort to the arcade, or even gone with another escort, such as Gladio, so he could have visited his mother and father, even if the eight-hour round trip meant he would have only seen them for a couple of hours? He most certainly should have never cancelled a single meal with his Uncle Caeli.

But it hardly mattered reviewing how he could have done things differently in the past, even if his past was currently in the future. He needed to make plans for his present, which also happened to lie in the future. Ignis had spent his entire life thus far preparing for a future as Senior Advisor to the King of Light, which no one had truly understood the scope of, so he’d spread his considerable cognitive resources thin to encompass as many subjects as possible. That broad scope was the reason why he’d even begun Crownsguard training, so that he could assist Gladio in fighting whatever darkness was coming for Noct. Now that his scope was beginning to narrow, he had taken advantage of this free time in the library these past two days to research that which may prove useful in traveling to the different regions of Lucis to collect the Royal Arms, including tomb locations, foraging, tactical strategies for daemon hunting, area history, offensive and defensive magic, Niflian geography, and even some small amount of field medicine and recipe research for Laura. 

After hours of sitting still, he would stand and stretch his body, extending each muscle in his long and lanky frame until they burned and tingled as he reached for the ceiling. He’d thought he’d been missing the cool cleanliness and comfortable luxuries of civilization, and really, he had. But he found that sitting in chairs all day no longer suited him; he missed using his body and brain in equal measure. He missed the thrill of the hunt and tactical planning on the wild, open plains of Leide. He missed Noct, Prompto, and Gladio. He missed Laura. Astrals, he hoped they were all safe from that horrible creature after he’d been . . . transported.

He had no idea how long the “temporary” effects would last, so Ignis had convinced the café owner downstairs that he was a starving student and would trade a few hours’ food preparation work in exchange for a sandwich or two. The café owner, a grandmotherly woman with a careworn face and bright brown eyes, had pinched at his collarbone, declared him entirely too thin, and sent him on his way three hours later with six enormous sandwiches and a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. Doing his best to brush aside the no doubt inadvertently implied insult to his physique, he’d stashed his bounty in the back of the refrigerator in the employee break room and still had enough provisions to last a while, at least.

This wasn’t a long-term solution, however, so he settled into one of his favorite sections of the library—the linguistics section—to make his plans. Not only was this area always deserted because the majority of even the most scholarly academics were unaware of the true nature of the discipline, it was also located in a corner with a window overlooking a picturesque courtyard—with trees dropping their vibrant gold and scarlet leaves onto the benches below as the sky darkened beyond the Wall. He settled into the plush black armchair that he himself had likely moved to the window as a boy. This concept gave him pause, but he knew it was safe enough to be here now, as he’d never had the time to visit on the weekdays.

He would have to leave Insomnia should this “adventure” last longer than a week. There was too much of a chance for him to run into someone, anyone, he knew from the future, as well-connected as he was. But without access to the armiger or a functioning mobile, he would need to find means for protecting himself, purchasing provisions, hitching a ride at the very least. How would he know what was safe? He thought of Laura, walking through all those periods of history. How did she always know what was safe? She must have some innate sense or an item in order to move freely about the worlds in which she traveled, else she’d cause destruction wherever she walked.

Pushing his second and third fingers up under his glasses to rub at his eye, he settled deeper into his armchair, arranging his notebook and tome on offensive field magic in his lap so it wouldn’t fall if he fell asleep. Anyone happening by, seeing him in this state, would likely think him yet another overworked intern and leave him be. He’d done all he could for today.

***

Ignis started awake, though he didn’t recall falling asleep. The lack of light combined with the warmer temperature and change in atmosphere indicated he was no longer in the library. That hadn’t been a dream, had it? Regardless of where he’d been for the past two days, he had to be somewhere now. He began to raise himself to his elbows to peer into the dim, but a hand resting on his bare shoulders beneath his shirt made him freeze.

“Shhh, Ignis,” Laura cooed beside him, “I’m here.” He felt her fingernails scratching lightly between his shoulders as she hummed a few notes of an impossible melody before drifting back to unconsciousness.

All right, so he was in the tent alone with Laura, who had apparently felt comfortable enough with him to touch his bare skin in sleep. This sudden escalation in their interactions, while probably the most comforting sensation he’d ever experienced—like crawling into bedding fresh from the dryer on a frigid winter’s evening—was bewildering. He thought it best to lie still so as not to wake her while he gathered his scattered thoughts.

If he had indeed been in Insomnia for the past two days, what had been happening here? Clearly, he had still been here in some capacity, or Laura wouldn’t be so . . . solicitous with him right now. Had his body lain here while his mind had traveled back in time? That didn’t seem likely, as he’d needed a corporeal form to affect events. The answers wouldn’t simply appear before him; he had to wake her to discover what had happened and, most importantly, where the others were. As soon as he shifted to his side to face her, her hand sliding down and around to his ribs, her eyes snapped open wide. As quick as lightning, she snatched her hand from beneath his shirt and sat up.

“You’re back,” she said. “I’m sorry; I thought I’d feel it when you returned and would have time to move away. Your younger self was having trouble sleeping.”

Her words stirred a memory deep within him, but he brushed it aside in favor of the most important information he needed. “Are the others all right? Where are they? Where are we?”

“Everyone’s fine. You were the only one hit by the paradoxis, the creature you saw. With no damage done to the timelines, we’re safe now. The others are staying at the camper just across the road, and we’re at the haven. You’re welcome to go and wake them now, but seeing as how it’s the middle of the night, I doubt even Noctis’s relief to see you again will eclipse his grouchiness at being awoken at this hour.” She gave him a tired smile.

“I don’t believe there exists anything in this world capable of such a feat,” he replied, returning her smile with a quirk of his own lips.

“How much do you remember?” she asked suddenly, the expression on her face morphing to concern.

“I’m not entirely certain. I thought I was hallucinating when I found myself standing in the middle of the grand entrance of the Citadel, bumping into a ten-year-old Gladio and his father. I had only a vague notion of what a paradox was from my paltry explorations into science fiction, so I went directly to the library and looked it up. Of course, it was difficult to find any reliable sources, time travel being a theoretical construct on our world. After that, I spent the rest of my time hiding among the stacks in the more deserted wings, making plans in case I had to settle in for a longer stay.”

“At the risk of sounding condescending,” she said, her expression growing warm, “I’m so proud of you. Not everyone handles their first time traveling experience with as much resourcefulness and level-headedness, you know.”

He let out an indelicate snort. “First time traveling experience? I should hope that this was my final time traveling experience, thank you. Standing on a blade’s edge of the world ending for two days is not something I care to repeat.”

Laura reached out a hand and settled it over his gloved one. “Are you all right? I know that can’t have been easy for you, being back there.”

He looked down at his lap, pushing down his grief and regret for a moment before nodding. But this wasn’t what he wished to discuss. “I must ask, what has transpired during my absence? There are indications that I was here in some capacity.”

“You should remember some of it, do you not? The paradoxis switched you for your younger self, and we’ve been playing host to you as a nine-year-old. I had to send the others away to prevent contamination to the timelines.”

He felt the color drain from his face and his entire body seize as his eyes drifted to a loose thread on her sleeping bag. He’d have to trim that before they packed up.

A distant memory shimmered in his mind of a blissful vision—a kind and gentle seraphim offering him respite from the Prince’s convalescence with reading and sleeping and watching the clouds and _oh._ He had thought her to be Shiva in his youth, sent to him as a lodestar to guide him through his difficult school years, but this entire time, she’d been real, a goddess made flesh and blood and standing right in front of him. Rose, she’d called herself. At first, he’d awoken in his favorite chair in the library with bitter tears, thinking it had all been a dream paired with some sort of bizarre somnambulance. But as he’d lain awake in his bed later, the fresh wild air beginning to clear from his lungs, he’d decided to treat the goddess much as Noct had treated Carbuncle in his own vision and hold her as a talisman against the dark. Shiva—his Rose.

“Oh, my word. That was _real_. All these years, and I thought you had been a dream.”

Over time, many of the details of the dream had faded so that he no longer knew what was dreamed and what was made up after the fact. As the years progressed and he grew more proficient in his duties so as not to need his Rose as often, he’d slowly let her slip from his mind, to the point where it had been years since he’d last thought of her, until recently. It _was_ a relief to have the mystery of where he knew her from solved, at least. It had been a most irksome inconvenience, that puzzle continuing to poke at his mind like an angry, buzzing fly.

Laura tilted her head and looked at him carefully. “How much do you remember from that time?”

He shook his head, not willing to try too hard to recall the details so he wouldn’t feel obligated to discuss it with her. “Not much, flashes of your face mostly.”

She hummed in affirmation and closed her eyes, leaning back into her pillow once more. “And the song,” she whispered.

“Yes. I confess to spending a great deal of time trying to learn the name of it in my youth. I even wrote a composition of it when I could find no evidence of its existence. How did you know?”

“Noctis almost let something slip in front of you. Implied you used to sing it to him when he was young. It’s called ‘Once Upon a December,’ by the way, but you couldn’t find it because it isn’t from this world.” She yawned and said, “I’m sorry.”

Ignis squinted into the dark, attempting to see her face in greater detail. She seemed exhausted, and he wondered what she’d had to do to save the others from the paradoxis. Knowing that everything had turned out all right in the end and that everyone was safe, he could wait until later to hear more. He himself was rather fatigued after spending so much time on the brink of the world ending.

“No, I should have waited until morning to inconvenience you. Please, go back to sleep.” 

He settled down on his side, facing her, and allowed his gaze to roam over her already sleeping form—her eyelashes laid against her pale cheeks, the angle of her jaw, the curves of her silhouette in the diffused moonlight. Suppressing the desire to run his fingertips over the curve of her cheekbone, he removed his gloves and glasses, placed them above his pillow, and closed his eyes.

In between taking notes and ruminating on all he had regretted not doing in the past, a potential regret in his future kept surfacing in his mind as he sat in that library, like one of Noct’s sea bass breaching the surface of the waves just to tease him.

Laura. He was afraid he was developing feelings for her. His heart couldn’t identify them, but his head was screaming that could possibly be love, and that was terrifying. He couldn’t possibly . . . enamored, perhaps—attracted, most certainly. It wasn’t as though he’d never been drawn to the sight of the occasional man or woman from a distance, but he’d certainly never followed up on the matter. Besides, Ignis was the sort to prefer the aesthetics of a beautiful body combined with a sharp mind and a kind heart, and the chances of encountering such a person who found him equally attractive in return were absurdly low. These emotions of his, however, were far more than an enticing flash of a stranger from across the street.

But he should have known, really, when his heart fluttered as though he were a character in some silly romance novel that first night she had sat in the moonlight at the haven. And there weren’t just feelings there. In the deepest recesses of his mind, he _wanted_ her; he’d wanted her since the moment he’d contained his longing to run his hands over her skin as he’d held her hand by the fire.

Ignis had always been the sort of man who decided on what he wanted or needed, or what Noct wanted or needed, and went out to obtain it as efficiently as possible: his cooking skills; his degrees in foreign affairs, political science, and economics; his rank of Sergeant in the Crownsguard and all the accompanying skills that went with it. But this was different. This wasn’t the simple matter of crawling into the pits of hell and forcing his blades into the hearts of his foes as he’d been training for since he was sixteen. This was his heart, over which his head had always taken precedence. He didn’t know how to balance the two, wasn’t equipped for it, and when he was around her, he would find himself swept away by one or the other in any given moment. Even now, he was torn between ignoring the matter of romance as he always had or waking her and pressing his lips against that mouth of hers, Six damn the consequences. More and more, he found he wanted to be swept away for once in his life. He wanted to be the one to be carried, to be carried off. He’d let go before with her and trusted her to be there to catch him, and she’d thus far never let him down.

In a way, she was far safer than any other choice he could make. His duty to Noct wasn’t in danger, as their goals were the same in that regard. But she was still a goddess—his own personal goddess, in fact—and he was still a servant to the Crown. His own meagre title was still nothing in comparison to divinity. Was he daring enough to pursue a goddess despite being unworthy? It was better than regretting that he’d never even tried. And, if he proceeded with caution, he could strike when he was certain of her reciprocated feelings without risking their friendship.

He had been wrong in front of her. He had been weak in front of her. Now she could watch as she inspired him to be audacious. This was folly, but he couldn’t help himself. Gods damnit, he wanted to _live_ , just this once, and see where it got him.

***

From beneath his closed eyelids, Ignis could tell that the light had only just begun to change, but he was loath to open his eyes and break the spell he was under. Astrals, he was so warm, so comfortable, with that enticing scent of pine and kithairon enveloping him and the delicious sensation of her body breathing against his. But he needed to get up and see for himself that Noct was safe, so he opened his eyes to face reality.

But she was still there when he looked down; they had migrated toward one another like lovers in the night, with her head cradled against his left arm, her hands curled up against his chest, and his right hand resting on the dip below her ribcage and around to the small of her back. Sucking in a quiet breath, he savored for a moment the heat of her body seeping through her shirt and into his palm as his face grew flush, but he had to remind himself that he couldn’t take any true meaning from this. She’d been affectionate with both Prompto and Gladio in the past; however, she never seemed to cross a certain line with either of them. Perhaps, if he subtly expressed his interest in touching her in a friendly manner when she was awake, as Prompto and Gladio had, she would be more demonstrative with him, and perhaps cross that line if she were interested. Yes, that seemed to be the most sensible way forward while he thought of a more comprehensive plan.

As carefully as he could, he disentangled himself from her, noting that her brow furrowed as they separated, but she made no other indications that she had stirred. He emerged from the tent, attempting to decide between walking across the road to the outpost immediately or having breakfast ready for them when he visited, when he spotted Gladio tiptoeing up the haven ramp with an armful of firewood.

“Gladio,” he called softly so as not to wake Laura.

Gladio started and, on seeing Ignis’s face as it should be, dropped the armful of firewood at his feet with a clatter. So much for his caution.

“Fuck. Iggy!” he called. Gladio jogged the rest of the way to where Ignis was standing and pulled him into a rough hug, resting his chin against Ignis’s shoulder and slapping his back. “It’s so good to see you man.”

“Good morning to you, too, Gladio,” he said mildly, patting Gladio’s shoulder in return and attempting to mask his surprise at the other man’s enthusiastic greeting. “Was the lack of proper nutrition these past two days really that distressing?”

Gladio pulled away and ignored his remark. “How long have you been back?”

“Only a couple of hours or so.”

Gladio seemed to search Ignis’s face for something, and the expression in his eyes reminded him of Laura always doing much the same. When he spoke, his enunciation was careful and earnest. “Are you all right? Do you remember being here with us?”

Ignis frowned. He really preferred keeping the experience of his vision of Rose to himself, much as he had these last thirteen years. “Flashes here and there, nothing more,” he replied.

Gladio hesitated, his mouth opening to speak, but he closed it again and nodded before tilting his head to scratch at his scalp. “Yeah, makes sense, I guess. You were pretty young then. And you? I mean, damn, this time thing’s confusing. Were you okay back in Insomnia?”

“Quite all right. Once I realized what had happened, it was only a matter of avoiding everyone.”

Gladio’s voice grew soft and gruff as he said, “How was it, being back home?”

Ignis let his eyes drift to the dead campfire, his expression blank. “Exactly how you would imagine, I suppose.”

“This is all some fucked up shit, you know?” Gladio said, his gaze also turning to the fire ring.

“Indeed,” he responded quietly.

They stood together in silence for several moments, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the blackened logs and piles of ash. Ignis wasn’t certain he could put a name to what he was feeling, but it felt like camaraderie, solidarity.

He heard Gladio take in a deep breath, then felt the light slap of the man’s hand against his shoulder. “Tell you what, I’ll go wake up the other two and get them back here to help take camp down. Cor’s got an assignment for us, and the sooner we get to it the better.”

Ah, yes. Nothing focused the mind better than a task on the horizon. “Very good. I’ll start breakfast and wake Laura.”

Gladio frowned as his head turned toward the tent. “Naw, let her sleep in. We’ll take the tent down last if she sleeps through the cleanup.”

Before Ignis could ask after her condition and the circumstances behind it, Gladio turned and headed down to the camper.

It took Gladio almost half an hour to return with Noct and Prompto, and Ignis hoped the delay meant they’d discussed his memory of what happened among themselves, as he wasn’t relishing the idea of them all fussing over him for the rest of the day.

“Iggy,” he heard Noct say from behind him, and Ignis turned to see Noct staring up at him, some intense, unidentifiable emotion behind his wide eyes. Noct reached a hand up to settle on his shoulder, still holding his gaze fast. “It’s really good to have you back, Specs,” he croaked.

“Yeah, we’re so glad to see ya, Iggy,” Prompto said from behind Noct, and Ignis looked over to see the younger man standing stock still for once, his hands at his sides and his expression troubled.

Ignis furrowed his brow, concerned for everyone’s reaction to his return. “It’s good to be back, Highness. Is everything all right?”

Noct took a step back and allowed his expression to grow into a cheeky grin. “Yeah. Just missed havin’ you in charge is all. Gladio’s a pain in my ass.”

“Clearly, he’s already influenced your language in a matter of days. I shudder to think what other manners he’s managed to undo in my short time away,” he replied, turning back to the stove before the eggs burned.

Fortunately, Gladio seemed to have shared what he knew because, aside from their unusual greetings, they left him to prepare breakfast, though they all seemed to hover, offering assistance or engaging him in idle chatter. He appreciated the company, as he preferred not to be alienated from the group during such times, but honestly, he wasn’t so delicate that two days away from his duties warranted such solicitude and change in their usual patterns of behavior. They needn’t have troubled themselves for his sake. Even as they all sat down to eat, the meal was spent in silence, with the others casting him furtive glances before staring back down at their breakfasts.

They had just finished eating when Laura crawled out of the tent, looking groggy. Gladio jumped out of his seat, hastening to her side to help her stand. Odd, it seemed as though he wasn’t the only one being treated delicately this morning.

“Morning, guys,” she said with a sleepy smile, rubbing at her eyes. “Are we heading out?”

“Yeah, Princess. Gotta drive down to Galdin Quay for a quick stop. Dino wants to see us for something. Then we’re coming back up here to kick some Nif ass,” Gladio said before putting his arm around her and pressing his lips to her temple. Laura responded by leaning into his side, wrapping her arms around the Shield’s body, and squeezing in a side hug.

“You think you’re feeling up to a drive?” Noct asked, standing to collect everyone’s dishes.

“Yeah, think I can manage to sit on a cushioned seat for a few hours, but only if one of you rubs my feet,” she said with a wink.

“Anything,” Prompto said, completely serious, but she shook her head and laughed.

Ignis’s eyes shifted to each member of the group in turn, lingering longest on Laura, who was still leaning under Gladio’s arm. Evidently, they had experienced something profound in his absence, and not only had Gladio and Noct seemed to have completely forgiven Laura for her secrecy, they had all bonded, deeply. He felt a slight prick of jealousy in his heart, and the corners of his mouth tugged down at the feeling. But he had established his own connection with her that he wasn’t sharing with the others, had he not? Still, he wished he could have been a part of whatever they’d experienced together, even if only for the opportunity to have grown closer to the others.

Once they had packed up the site and headed down to the Regalia, Ignis reached for the driver’s side door handle, but a hand came into view and rested on the door, stopping him.

“Hey Iggy,” Noct said. “Why don’t you sit in back today?”

“I assure you, I am sufficiently rested—”

“Yeah, but I wanna drive. You take a load off.”

Ignis narrowed his eyes at Noct. It wasn’t terribly unusual for him to want to drive for short stretches here and there, but the almost guilty expression on his face and the insistence that he rest was atypical. Had his younger self said something to the Prince to unsettle him so? He didn’t recall any such moment. In fact, he didn’t recall seeing the others at all during his vision. He decided it was best to let the matter pass, for now, as he was looking forward to an hour or so of sitting next to Laura before Noct no doubt got bored of driving and wanted to switch. He could request a fuller account from her to explain this behavior the next time they were alone.

“Of course, Highness.”

For the first ten minutes, Ignis watched the scenery fly by and kept an eye on Noct’s driving, Gladio pulled out a book, and Laura discussed new filter pre-settings with Prompto. The two grew quiet after a while, and Laura leaned her head back, crossing her arms over her middle and closing her eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Prompto waving his hands wildly at him.

Ignis turned his head and cocked an eyebrow.

 _Hold her,_ Prompto mouthed, miming putting an arm around her shoulder.

He glared at Prompto. Was he seriously suggesting that he just . . . _manhandle_ her? He shook his head furiously, but Prompto only nodded back with equal vehemence.

He let his eyes drift to Laura. She did look terribly uncomfortable. He could only imagine the stiffness in her neck when they finally arrived at Galdin Quay. This situation presented an opportunity to touch her, as he’d only just this morning proposed to himself. And Prompto’s affections hadn’t yet been met with disdain, so he should trust the younger man’s instincts.

Ignis adjusted his frame closer toward the door in preparation for what he was about to ask. Reaching over, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Rose?” he called softly, and she snapped her head sharply up at him, too sharply to be appropriate for the situation. Perhaps she didn’t wish to be pestered.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was only going to inquire, should you need the extra space, you are more than welcome to lean on me.”

What was she staring at? Was she disgusted by his offer? He couldn’t see how, as she had slept against Prompto in the past. He couldn’t fathom from her expression what she was trying to read in his. His mind flashed briefly to telepathy, but then he didn’t feel anything in his head—not that he knew what he was supposed to feel at a telepath’s touch. He wondered what her passive telepathy was perhaps picking up in his mind, besides bemusement.

Without any additional input on his behalf, joy blossomed across her face, and he felt his heart flutter in response.

“If you wouldn’t mind. I’m having trouble keeping awake.”

Suppressing the desire to allow a foolish grin to spread over his face, he ran his arm along the back of the seat and leaned as far as he could against the door.

“Not at all. Please.”

She laid herself along the side of his body, resting her head where his shoulder met his chest, and brought her other arm across his torso in an embrace, sighing peacefully. Removing his right hand from the back of the seat, he patted her shoulder gently, surreptitiously leaving it rested there when he’d finished.

“Ignis,” she sighed into his shoulder, barely loud enough for him to hear over the wind blowing over his ears, and he had to close his eyes against the swell of affection that rolled over him.

Before he could glance up at Prompto to make certain that someone besides him were there to witness this and ensure he was not hallucinating, he heard the click of that damned camera.

“Thanks, Prom,” Laura muttered, her eyes still closed. “Just what we need to see as we look back and reminisce, a picture of me drooling all over Ignis.”

“Heh heh, gotcha!” Prompto laughed. He locked eyes with Ignis for a moment, biting his lip melodramatically, bobbing his head, and giving him two thumbs up. Grateful though he was for Prompto’s encouragement that led to this situation, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes in response.

Another moment of silence passed before he heard Laura say in quiet wonder, “You called me Rose . . ..”

Had he? He didn’t recall. He’d been thinking about Rose all morning, so he supposed it was possible he’d accidently used her alternate appellation. Still, he didn’t know how to respond to that wonder in her voice.

 


	19. Chapter 19

Gladio had long ago shifted against the door so he had a better view of Noct, who was still pissed after brooding for the last two days in the caravan, and Iggy, who seemed to be pretending that what they’d all seen hadn’t happened. He wanted to at least say _something_ about it to his friend this morning, but if Iggy wouldn’t even acknowledge it as reality, there wasn’t much to do about it. Still, he wished Iggy had come to him all those years ago, even if they hadn’t known each other yet, even if he was only four at the time and couldn’t beat those guys to a pulp himself. He would’ve told his dad. He would’ve told the King. It would’ve stopped right then and there. Fuck, how lonely it must’ve been for the little guy, with no one to protect him, no one to turn to.

But they weren’t gonna discuss it because Iggy knew they didn’t have time for sitting down and crying, and Gladio respected the hell out of him for that, knowing that what he’d been through was so much worse than Gladio losing his parents. He’d managed to harden his heart against the pain better than even Gladio could—something his dad had been telling him to do for years, and that pretty much made Iggy his hero. No wonder that subservient, courteous exterior of his had been perfectly ice cold since he’d known him. Not that he’d been completely unfriendly. He was always babying Noct, smiling like an indulgent parent whenever he’d managed to make the kid happy. But still, he’d been pushing all that shit down and hiding it behind his schedule and his manners flawlessly since he was three years old, what the fuck.

Moving on or not, that wasn’t going to stop Gladio from tracking down every single asshole that had laid a hand on that boy, making sure they’d died in the Fall, or handling them himself if they hadn’t.

He turned the page of his book, using the motion to cover up the fact that he was trying to sneak yet another glance back at Iggy snuggled up in the back seat with Laura. Yep, the man was still blushing, and his eyes seemed to follow every shift of her hair, every breath of movement. Damn, the kid had it bad. She definitely seemed to be the crack in that frigid façade of his. Iggy’d been different since they’d left Insomnia; he’d never be mistaken for an emotional guy, but he _had_ managed express something other than mild irritation or rigid formality a time or two since they’d left—usually only with Laura though. Gladio didn’t think he’d ever forget that laugh by the campfire.

He and Laura were in a different place now than a couple of days ago, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t concerned for his friend, especially after what’d just happened. Iggy didn’t fall easily, didn’t fall at all, and now he was smitten with someone who may or may not return his feelings. Iggy was the smartest guy Gladio knew, but puppy love could make anyone an idiot. Laura was pretty free with her affection, like Gladio himself. Did Iggy realize that her getting all cuddly with him didn’t necessarily mean attraction? But then again, a girl didn’t get up at three o’clock in the morning to sharpen a man’s blade because they were good friends, either. She’d never done that for Gladio.

He’d have to learn to trust her better. Looking back through different lenses, all the shit she’d gone through with them, especially the shit they’d put her through, made it pretty obvious she had no intention of hurting any of them. She’d made it pretty clear in the Fall and this mess with Iggy that she’d die for any of them, same as Gladio would. The words she’d said in Gladio’s defense to Noct had proven that she’d seen more of him than he’d been aware he’d shown, too. She was pretty damn perceptive, probably because of the telepathy thing. Yeah, he’d just have to trust she could handle Iggy’s heart.

Gladio went back to reading. Ever since Laura had served ochazuke the other day, he’d been looking for the tea in his book, but he couldn’t find gyokuro anywhere. He loved the pomp and tradition of a good tea ceremony, and each kingdom seemed to have vastly different rules, making it even more interesting. There was something calm and peaceful about sitting down with a good cup, watching the steam curl over the surface of the water, contemplating the flavors, and really taking the time to explore his own head in the quiet. There was something philosophical about ceremony for the sake of it, taking the extra care to do something as everyday as hot leaf water and coaxing all the different flavors out of a single leaf type with different brewing times and temperatures. The delicacy of the china and the way each person’s personality could be reflected in the intricate patterns was pretty cool too . . ..

“Prompto?” he heard Ignis ask quietly, interrupting his thoughts. “I never asked, were you all able to defeat the paradoxis all right?”

“Oh, the paradox thingy was no trouble. Disappeared as soon as it hit you. We got back to the haven no problem.”

“Then what has happened to make her like this?” Gladio looked up to see Iggy frowning down at Laura. “She looks waxen with exhaustion.”

Oh fuck, did he really not remember? Gladio’d thought he’d been vague this morning just so he wouldn’t have to talk about it. “She’ll be all right; don’t worry about it, Iggy,” Gladio said, his voice low.

Ignis’s frown deepened, his keen eyes narrowing at him. “I suspect, given that you all have been acting most strangely toward me this morning, that I should very much be worrying about it.”

“It’s no big deal,” Prompto said pleadingly. “She said it would take a few days of sleep and she’d be better.”

“As this has _something_ to do with me, I believe I have the right to know.”

“She healed your back, Ignis,” Noct said tersely, his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel.

That cold resting expression of Iggy’s didn’t change, but Gladio watched the man grow white as a sheet as his jaw clenched hard enough to crack stone.

“So,” he said almost conversationally, as though they were discussing the fucking weather. “You all saw, then.”

“Yeah, we saw it. We saw it all,” Noct growled, glaring at the rearview mirror. “And you should’ve said something.”

“Do watch the road, Highness, you’re beginning to drift,” he said, stretching his neck to see over Noct’s shoulder.

“Fuck the godsdamn road, Ignis. You should’ve said something!”

“It wasn’t my place. A chamberlain’s duties require discipline and discretion at all times—”

“Don’t give me that crap. I’m not just your prince, and you know it. I’m your friend. I’m your _brother_. And you should’ve said something.”

At the word _brother_ , Iggy’s eyes widened a fraction, the first real response he’d had since this fucked up conversation began. Did he really not know? Yeah, Noct sucked at expressing himself, but Iggy had practically raised the kid for gods’ sakes. Did he really still see himself as a servant after all these years? Even Gladio knew they both meant more to Noct than that.

“Oh, let’s not be dramatic, shall we? It wasn’t all _that_ bad. I received an unparalleled education so that I could do my duty with grace, so I would know my place.”

“You’ve been brainwashed!” Noct said, slamming his hand against the steering wheel.

At the sound of Noct’s outburst, Laura stirred, stiffening as though she were about to awaken and adjusting her hand over Ignis’s chest, and they all went still for a few moments. But she resettled quickly, relaxing back into Iggy’s shoulder. Gladio wasn’t surprised. Iggy was right; the girl looked like a wax figurine still, even after a couple of days’ rest.

Noct hissed, “What about those first six years, Ignis? Did you forget she had to heal you in the first place? We all saw it. Your back was covered in scars.”

“Well, you’re welcome to look when we reach Galdin Quay, Highness,” he said airily, his chin raised in defiance, his expression cold and haughty. “There is not a mark on my person, so they obviously did their job more efficiently after that. Honestly, it isn’t as though they truly hurt me.”

Gladio had had enough of him defending those monsters. Did he really think it was normal to be whipped like that and not feel pain, not get injured? From the looks of things, Laura had almost died for him, and that arrogance in the face of her sacrifice was starting to piss Gladio off.

“That’s because of her, you idiot,” Gladio spoke up, nodding to Laura.

Ignis went deathly still, and for a moment, Gladio could see that terrified kid again, standing in front of that fucking stove, ready to take a blow from Noct that would never, ever come. Now that he knew what that face meant, the sight made him sick.

“What,” Iggy said in a flat, dead tone.

“When she healed you, she added something so you wouldn’t get hurt when they hit you,” Prompto said quietly.

“And _where_ , may I ask,” he ground out, “has the energy for _that_ been coming from these past thirteen years?”

Absolute silence reigned in the car, until they all heard a soft, “Stop it, please. All of you.”

Ignis looked down at Laura, tightening his grip so that he was clutching her tightly against his side, his face rigid.

“Please,” he said in a strangled tone, “tell me you didn’t. Tell me that every bump and injury I have received for the past thirteen years hasn’t been paid for with your life force.” His head shot up to Prompto, then Gladio, then the back of Noct’s head. “And the rest of you?” he added incredulously. “How could you have let her do this? How could you think that _this_ is what I would want?”

They hadn’t really asked about the specifics of the spell when she’d proposed it, and honestly, it wasn’t until she had almost fallen into the campfire that any of them had really cared. They’d just wanted Iggy to be safe and whole, no matter what, and she was always invincible anyway. It’d been real _fun_ in that caravan later that night, discussing how she was better at hiding shit than even Iggy, and she was probably in worse shape than she’d been letting on. Sure enough, as they’d all taken shifts to watch over the two of them and make them meals that first day, they’d seen her using Iggy’s little body as a fucking cane to get around.

“No,” she answered. “It wasn’t my life force that was used; it was yours. I set up a reserve for your own energy, which would lie dormant until you were hurt. It would protect you from most of the pain, heal you, then slowly build back up.”

Iggy closed his eyes. “Is it still there?”

“It dissolved on its own sometime when you were sixteen. Please don’t be angry with me. I just couldn’t send you back to them without protection. And if I hadn’t done it, you wouldn’t have been able to help me align in time to be strong enough to use the Crystal’s powers in Longwythe. I might’ve lost one of you.”

Well, damn. That was news to Gladio.

Iggy’s eyes widened at her words, and the hand that was around her shoulder tightened even more. Seemingly distracted and staring off into space, Iggy tilted his head to the side, resting his cheek against the top of Laura’s head, his jaw tense and his nostrils flared.

Even with that blank look on Iggy’s face, Gladio thought the moment was too private and looked away.

***

Seriously, Gladio didn’t see why everyone thought it was necessary that they always meet for assignments. Dino could’ve given them the location for the gemstones over the phone, but no. They had had to drive all the way to Galdin, back up to Longwythe Peak, then back down to Galdin to deliver the goods. Damned waste of time. Gladio hoped Iggy planned on sending the man copies of their gas receipts.

But it was probably best that Laura got to sleep most of the morning. She hadn’t even stirred when they parked at Galdin, and Iggy had motioned for them to go ahead while they waited in the car. Gladio felt bad for him. Not only was he probably needing to stretch his legs after sitting in that position for so long, he was probably desperate for a piss.

Laura finally woke up when they arrived at Longwythe, and after Iggy had excused himself for a couple of minutes, they all set off to search for the gemstones. Laura was a little slow on her feet, but she kept up with them all right. Picking up the gemstones went smoothly, and Gladio wondered why the hell Dino didn’t just drive his own happy ass up here and get them himself. They were just sitting there on a rock—no danger in sight. It was on the way back, however, that the percussive roaring of a Magitek engine assaulted their ears as it hovered into view over a rocky plateau and settled right over the Regalia. The payload doors in back slowly opened to reveal a squad of MTs, which leapt from the ramp created by the open door, slammed to the asphalt below, and began setting up a perimeter around the area.

“Stay here,” Iggy ordered Laura as the rest of them summoned their weapons.

“Fat chance,” she shot back. “It’s what? Twelve MTs?” She summoned her falchions and picked up her pace.

“I insist. You’re in no shape for a fight today.” Even Gladio could hear the guilt in his voice as he said it, and perhaps it was the guilt keeping him from recognizing the snake pit he’d just fallen into.

Laura narrowed her eyes at Iggy dangerously. “Excuse me? You insist? I’ll _not_ be mollycoddled. I’ll admit to not being able to take the base with you this afternoon, but I can handle this. I think I’m old enough to handle making these decisions myself.”

“Apparently not,” Iggy argued, “as you’re always on one foolish errand or another to incapacitate yourself.”

“I’d rather be incapacitated for a day or two than see one of you lying dead any day,” she snapped.

“Guys?” Noct cut in, “Can we just get our car back?”

Iggy sighed at his words, and they both went quiet, but Laura still followed them to the Regalia. She seemed to keep up with them okay as they ran to the road, so Gladio put her out of his mind and concentrated on the fight. He felt the satisfying burn in his arms as he swung his sword down to cleave an MT’s head in two before chopping the arm off another that was headed for Noct’s back. Damn, it felt good to move again after all that camping and driving! Cutting down the Nifs was easy work; they had all taken two apiece, while Gladio and Noct each took on a third. When they’d finished, everyone, including Laura, was standing, so they headed toward the car.

“Nice work, Gladio,” Noct said, slapping at his back as they walked.

“Back atcha,” Gladio replied with a grin, hefting his sword over his shoulder. The kid _had_ been doing a lot better since they’d gotten out here. They probably should’ve started practicing on real shit years ago.

They waited in silence for a beat to see if Iggy and Laura would pick their argument back up again now that they were out of danger, but the fight seemed to have gone out of both of them.

“What are MTs, really?” Prompto asked to fill the silence. “They give me a kind of creepy feeling. Something about the way they move.” He shuddered.

“They’re empty humanoid soldiers. Soulless. Merciless,” Iggy replied. “Robotics, essentially.”

“No, not soulless,” Laura said, turning to face them, her hand on the handle of the car door, her eyes blank and staring to the horizon. A cut on her cheek was dripping a thick, pearlescent-white fluid, like a shimmery tear, but she ignored it. Was that her blood? Was she _bleeding_? Gladio kept forgetting she was an alien until weird shit like this just . . . casually happened.

“Has Lucis done no research on them? Their minds are deadened, but they were alive once, I think.” She shuddered before looking up at them. “Whatever they were, they’re daemons now, shoved into that robotic body and programmed to take orders.”

“I think my dad was more concerned about holding out against Niflheim than doing much research. How can you tell they’re daemons?” Noct asked.

Gladio watched Iggy as he approached Laura carefully, removing his glove and reaching a tentative hand out to cup her cheek and brush his thumb against the cut there. He pulled his hand back and stared at his thumb curiously.

“M’fine,” she said softly. “It’s just blood. Not human, remember? It’ll be gone by tonight.” Then she looked up at Noct and said, “Their minds are identical to the daemons we fight all the time— teeming with this slimy, black, oily substance. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What is it, you think?” Noct asked.

She shook her head as she opened the car door. “I don’t know. It feels so wrong and abhorrent that I’m afraid to look directly at it.”

They got back in the car and delivered Dino’s gems, at which point, Ignis insisted that he take over the wheel for the trip back north. “I should like to resume my regular duties, and I think we’ve had enough brushes with death today, what with his Highness’s tendency to let his mind drift while driving.”

Laura fell asleep again almost immediately, this time cuddled into Prompto’s side. It wasn’t until they were nearly to the haven just outside the base when she woke up and leaned into the space between the front seats, placing her chin on Gladio’s shoulder.

“Still working on the tea book?”

“Yeah. Tried to find your tea in here but couldn’t.”

She hummed. “The gyokuro? It might be under a different name on this planet. Lemme see?”

“Gyokuro,” Iggy said under his breath, his eyes still on the road, but a faraway expression on his face. “Tea that tastes like mushrooms.”

Laura turned her head in Iggy’s direction, her expression searching. “Yes,” she said softly, but he didn’t say anything more.

She took the book when Gladio handed it to her, sat up, turned to the section on tea types, and flipped through each page at a rapid pace. She did this for about twenty seconds, flipping through all one hundred pages of the chapter as her eyes darted rapidly from page to page. When she finished, she handed it back to him flipped to the page he’d been reading.

“Sorry, out of luck, it would seem. Doesn’t look like they’ve invented shade-grown tea here yet. I’d give you what I have, but it goes bad really quickly. Best to keep it in the null-time pocket so it doesn’t spoil. I’ll tell you what though, it’s yours. Just ask whenever you want some.”

“You sure?”

“Course I’m sure! Glad, you have no idea how much tea stuff I have. I think I have enough different types to blow your mind with a different tea every day. What do you say? New morning routine? If we’re not rushed tomorrow morning, I can even teach you a new style of brewing.”

“Hell yeah, let’s do it,” Gladio said with a smile.

“How much stuff can you keep in that armiger of yours anyway? It really isn’t anything like ours, is it?” Noct asked.

“I don’t think so, but then I don’t really know that much about how your armiger works. Mine isn’t even really called an armiger, actually. I guess I just call it ‘The Pocket,’ but it’s not a name I use often because I never really talk about it with anyone. It’s null-time, just like yours appears to be, so food doesn’t go bad. Accessible anywhere—that sort of thing. Does make things like aging teas and raising levain difficult though.”

“Seems like you can put anything in there. We can carry a lot, but space isn’t unlimited,” Noct replied.

“Ahh, yeah, mine is pretty much unlimited. I collect a lot of things during my travels, and I need the space. I later connected it to an energy source that has a tendency to get bored and create more space for fun, so it gets even bigger on a whim.”

Before Gladio could even ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, she turned back to him with a bright smile.

“You know, maybe you should start a tea farm when this is all over and invent your own shade-grown tea—you know, as a hobby. I think you could probably achieve a similar flavor with Lucian varieties. Maybe if you—” she leaned over him and flipped several pages back, “crossbred the Cibum cultivar with the Boletus, perhaps add in a bit of the Herba over the generations, I think the flavor profile would be similar.”

Huh, he’d never given any thought to actually pursuing his hobbies in addition to his duties to that extent. Being a Shield took up most of his time, but maybe if he was creative about it, he could do both. As King Regis had gotten older and his job centered more around bureaucracy and keeping the wall intact, his dad had had hobbies—like reading and even painting now and then. Maybe crafting the perfect cup of tea could be his. He could work with local farmers to see to the trees, and maybe he could have a tea shop or something someone else could run. It’d give people some jobs, and he could do something he actually chose for himself at the same time.

“Forgive me,” Iggy interrupted his daydreaming, “but did you just _read_ that entire book?”

“Not the whole thing—a third of it.” Ignis looked at the two of them from the corner of his eye, then returned to watching the road.

Laura pointed at her head and said, “Photographic memory.”

“ _I_ have a photographic memory,” he said irritably, “and I assure you I cannot do _that_.”

“All right, _flash_ photographic memory then.” Iggy sputtered in response, and she laughed. “Stop trying to compete with someone not of your species. It’s not fair, Ignis.”

“Oh, snap! Are you jealous, Iggy?” Prompto teased from the back seat.

“Seriously though, Princess, is there anything you’re not amazing at? It’s getting kind of annoying.”

Her voice grew quiet as she said, “There are a lot of things I’m not good at, actually.” Damn. It seemed like every time he asked her a personal question, he made her sad. “The worst one being figuring things out in time. I’ve had seven thousand years to learn things, which makes me seem smart to you, but really, it just makes me an encyclopedia. Though my experience of learning things the hard way my entire life helps me out a lot, still doesn’t mean I’m a good strategist.” Her eyes flickered to Iggy when she said this, and Gladio saw Iggy frown at her words.

She suddenly continued in a bright tone, her accent flipping like a light switch, “But I’m bad at other stuff too. Like maths. Oh _gods_ , was I terrible at maths in school! We ‘ad this teacher that’d give us ‘omework every day, yeah? And I’d trade with my best mate—my French for her maths. We’d copy off each other all the time. Only way I made it through school. Well, actually I didn’t. Never did get my A-levels. Left school when I was sixteen to move in with a punk rocker.”

“Am I to understand that you cheated your way through your education and then dropped out of school?” Ignis asked, appalled.

“Uh oh,” Noct said, chuckling. “I think you just broke Iggy.”

She laughed merrily and slapped his shoulder. “Yep! Keep tha’ in mind the next time you call me Your Majesty or a goddess, will ya?”

“You are a most dichotomous creature,” he replied, pursing his lips and shaking his head.

“And some of the arts I’m pretty bad at too,” she continued. “I can sing al’right, but any sor’ of instrument? Forget it. I was forced to take up the violin in secondary school, then forced to stop after a year.”

“Iggy plays the violin really well, don’t ya, Ig?” Gladio said, grinning at him.

“Well, I make do,” he prevaricated.

“Bullshit,” Gladio grunted. “Guy could have been a prodigy if it weren’t for having to take care of that useless bag of bones back there.”

“Hey! I’ve got muscle, and I’m useful enough to take _you_ on,” Noct shot back.

“Oh yeah? Keep count of your Nifs this afternoon. We’ll see who’s more useful.”

“You’re on.”

Gladio looked over just as Laura leaned forward, her chin resting on Iggy’s shoulder. Gladio couldn’t hear the words she said, but he could hear her low, almost seductive tone as she murmured something into his ear.

Iggy hesitated before replying, “Well, I’m afraid I’m out of practice, but perhaps we can arrange to borrow a violin at some point.” She hummed in response and gave him a warm smile before turning to Gladio.

“But why am I always the one answering questions? Seems like I’m the only one we ever talk about.”

“Cause you got enough weird to fill up all of Lucis, Princess,” Gladio replied.

She punched him on the shoulder. “I wanna know what _you_ boys are bad at. Come on! Out with it! What was your worst subject?”

“History!” Prompto and Noct called out immediately together, giving each other a fist bump behind Laura’s back. Prompto continued, “Yeah, we had history together, and it was so boring! He had that droning voice that’d put me to sleep every time! I thought I was gonna die in that room.”

“After that we had this teacher with this hideous mousy wig, and we’d try to get paper balls stuck in there when she wasn’t looking,” Noct said. “And every time a war came up, she’d glare at me like it was my fault. What about you, Gladio?”

“Dad would’ve killed me if I’d done bad in any subject. I was pretty weak in orchestra, I guess. Played viola in the same class as Iggy for a couple of years. Outside of school though? I was terrible at sewing.”

“Dude! When’d you take up sewing?” Prompto asked.

Gladio smiled to himself. “Around the time Iris turned eight and got really into fashion. Took classes with her so she’d have someone to go with and so I could spend more time with her.”

“You adore her,” Laura said with a soft smile.

“Yeah, she’s a good kid. It’s rough being so far away from her right now, but I’m glad she’s safe.”

Gladio hoped he’d hear from her soon; he hadn’t gotten a call since Insomnia. While he knew Dustin would take good care of her, he was eager to get this base taken care of so they could get to Lestallum, and he could see for himself that she was safe. Gladio was head of the Amicitia family now, so she was his responsibility, which kinda terrified him. His first duty was to Noct, no matter what, and the only blood family he had left was fifteen and on her own in a new city for the first time in her life. They were gonna have to have a few long talks when he got to Lestallum and figure out the long-term money and living situation.

It was silent for a few seconds, and Gladio realized everyone was afraid to ask Iggy what his least favorite subject was, but he volunteered the information himself for once.

“If I had to choose a least favorite subject, I would say that it’s combat training, more specifically, the footwork involved.”

“Huh, I didn’t know that about you Iggy,” Prompto said. “I always thought you were amazing on the field.”

“My physique just isn’t suited for it, I suppose—too awkward and long.”

“You’ve been talking to those gymnastics instructors, haven’t you? They tell everyone they’re too tall and long-limbed. Told me that when I was six years old, but I still took home the bronze,” Laura said, rolling her eyes. “They’re full of it, you know. It makes you doubly skilled that you’ve managed your level of proficiency at your height. And I think you look graceful when you move.”

Gladio noted the blush rising to Iggy’s cheeks as his jaw twitched in response, and he wondered if Laura was finally executing her secret plan to kill them all by getting Iggy to crash into a tree or something.

“Makes sense that you’d say that about footwork though, Ig,” Gladio said. “Your weapon of choice requires you to get in close to the enemy, so you either gotta be a beast like me and take a lotta hits or you gotta keep moving. I’ve always said you think too much on the field; it slows you down, and you don’t do enough footwork, which is why you gotta take more potions than the rest of us.”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked somewhat pointedly.

“He's got a point there, Ig. You do get injured a lot,” Noct said.

“It’s cause you’re always next to Noct, who can warp out of the way, unlike you,” Gladio said. As much as he didn’t like ragging on the guy, he _was_ gonna get himself killed trying to protect Noct one of these days. That was Gladio’s job, not his. “You’d take less damage if you hung back like Prompto, but then you’d have to rely more on tossing your daggers around. Maybe if you used your polearm more, but then you’re not as quick with that.”

“Yeah, and you do this attack-retreat thing, where you step back and analyze. Gives the enemy time to figure you out too, ya know,” Noct said.

“If you’ve all quite finished discussing my . . . inadequacies,” Iggy said, frowning.

“Well, what do you think, Laura? You’re supposed to be the expert,” Noct asked.

Gladio saw Laura purse her lips before answering. “I’d never remark on weaknesses in a swordsman’s skill in front of other people unless they volunteered in a class or something. I will say that offense wise, you’re almost as skilled as I am with a blade, and you’re about as quick with them as any human can be.”

“By all means, continue, if I may serve as a lesson to the others,” Iggy said.

Laura hesitated. “There’s . . . room for improvement. No point saying much more, since everyone else’s fighting style is so much different than yours. If you’re amenable, I believe our fighting styles are similar enough that I could help you.”

To Gladio’s surprise, Iggy’s mood seemed to do a one-eighty, as the corner of his mouth quirked up into a slight smile. “I might be amenable, yes,” he said softly.

They arrived at Entethina Haven a few minutes later, where they hastily set up camp so Laura could get back to sleep. Again, she proved to Gladio how good she was at hiding shit, because despite the upbeat conversation in the car, she stepped inside as soon as the thing was up and was unconscious before they’d even left.

***

After finishing with the base, the ride back to the haven was silent, and Gladio thought he knew why. He’d been the first one of their group to kill an actual man during the Fall, but he was pretty sure that the others hadn’t killed anything more than an MT or two that day because of whatever freaky magic Laura was doing.

Tonight though, the base had been full of human imperial soldiers, and Noct, Iggy, and Prompto had all gotten their first taste of actual blood. Gladio knew they’d get over it pretty quick; Noct and Iggy at least had been training for years for this kinda thing, just as Gladio had been training his whole life, and Prompto was made of stronger shit than he thought he was. Still, he knew from experience that once that first rush of triumph and survival waned, the remorse would set in for a bit before they remembered that they were doing their duty and protecting the people. _Suck it up and get the job done_ , as his dad had always told him.

Now that the blockade was destroyed, they were free to explore the open road, the lands of Lucis that none of them thought they’d get the chance to see this soon, since princes didn’t usually go on the Royal Tomb Exodus until they’d taken a spouse. Gladio was itching to leave this dusty desert and see something new, but what he really wanted was to get to Lestallum. Iris had finally gotten in touch, even if it was with Noct and not him personally, and it was a relief to know that she, Dustin, Jared, and Talcott had all made it safely. Still, he’d feel better when he saw Iris was okay in person.

They were probably gonna stay at the haven for a day or two first, though, since Laura was still asleep when they got back, and Gladio knew he was gonna have to wait a day or two while Noct and Prompto cooed over those godsdamn chocobos. It wasn’t that he disliked animals; he loved pets, but damnit, his sister was waiting.

As it was almost dawn, Prompto helped Iggy throw together a quick meal of prairie-style skewers, Gladio’s favorite, before they all helped him with cleanup.

“Now honestly, the three of you, while I appreciate your efforts, I should like to resume our normal routines starting tomorrow,” Iggy said as they headed for the tent.

“Whatever you say, Igs,” Gladio replied before Noct could argue. Gladio understood; he wouldn’t want to be treated weird just because of his past either. And it wasn’t like he didn’t accept help from Laura in the kitchen. No doubt she’d be back to helping him as soon as she was back on her feet. Still, the three of them would have to find more secret ways to make life a bit easier on the guy. They hadn’t really thought about how much Iggy did for them and when he found the time to do it before this.

They settled into the tent with Laura to get some shut-eye, and the last thing Gladio saw before closing his eyes was Iggy, adjusting Laura’s blanket so it covered her shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a note here. I felt there really needed to be higher stakes for the boys going off to war. It's rather convenient that they mostly killed MTs, who are almost no longer human at all. Perhaps the game did this to get around a rating, perhaps to keep our heroes as squeaky-clean as possible.
> 
> In this story, however, all the soldiers that look like knights (Imperial Rifleman, Imperial Sniper, etc.) will be human, or perhaps mostly human with some MT upgrades. This is NOT CANON, but serves to create additional conflict and character development throughout the story.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief reference to Prompto's weight loss

When Prompto crawled out of the tent, the sun was already pretty high in the sky, and Noct was still sleeping, of course—the only one left in the tent. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye as he moved the tent flap aside and saw that Iggy was just sitting down to a cup of coffee in front of the fire ring.

“Morning, Ig. You didn’t just wake up, did ya?”

“No, I’ve been awake for quite some time. Laura and I just returned from foraging,” he said before taking another sip of coffee and nodding in her direction.

Prompto turned around to see Laura at the camp stove, taking the lid off a heavy-looking metal pot and checking inside. It was good to see her awake and moving around again. She’d been asleep for pretty much all of the last three days, waking up only long enough to eat the bowls of soup Iggy kept insisting she eat and then going back to sleep.

“Morning, Prompto! Sleep well?” she asked as she walked to one of Iggy’s tables she’d set up by the fire ring and pulled something out of her . . . what had she called it? Pocket? It looked like a large wooden tray made from red, glossy carved wood, with a top covered in holes. She set the tray on the table and looked up at him.

“Oh yeah! Like a rock,” he laughed, dancing from foot to foot. He was hoping, now that she was awake, they’d get to leave this morning after breakfast. There was pretty much nothing he wanted more in the world than to see the chocobos, and he was getting impatient to leave Leide behind for a while. There was just too much brown, too much death, too many bad memories. Leide would always remind him of leaving Insomnia.

As Prompto took a seat by the fire ring, Laura pulled five small green bowls from her Pocket one by one, the whispering rush sounding kinda peaceful in the quiet morning air, and set them on the tray next to Gladio’s chair. At the fifth bowl, she paused before setting it down.

“Ignis? Did you want some tea with the others? I know you tend to prefer coffee.”

“Most certainly, if you please,” he replied, nodding. “I may prefer coffee, but I could never turn down such an exceptional opportunity as to have tea from another universe.”

She nodded and placed the little bowl down on the tray before adding a matching pitcher and tiny teapot.

“So all that stuff’s for tea?” Prompto asked. “Seems like a lot.”

“Yes, I’m going to be teaching Gladio gongfu style tea brewing this morning, since I haven’t had a chance to lately. Some argue that it’s a better way to serve tea than the way it’s commonly served, but I’ll let you all decide for yourselves. Then for breakfast, I made some pumpkin bread. It’s still baking though.”

“Are you gonna take over cooking duties for Iggy now? And what’s pumpkin?”

“It’s a type of squash. I don’t know if you just haven’t encountered them or if they don’t exist on this world, but they make good bread,” she replied. “And no, I wouldn’t dream of stepping on Ignis’s toes. I can cook just fine, but I think one or two of you would die without eating meat. Think I’ll just stick to prep work for now, but maybe I’ll cook for you all again one of these days.” She turned to Iggy and gave him a warm smile.

“Sup, guys,” Gladio grunted as he flopped into his chair, covered in sweat. He sat up a little when he saw the tray next to his chair. “Tea this morning? All right!” he said with a grin.

“How was the rest of your workout, Princess?” Laura asked, poking him in the chest.

Gladio shook his head. “Shoulda sparred with you the last ten minutes and not the first. Was worn out the rest of my routine.”

“Couldn’t have done that, I’m afraid. Ignis and I went foraging, and then we came back here so I could set all this up. Maybe when my sleep schedule’s back in place.”

“How much sleep do you truly require?” Ignis asked.

Laura tilted her head, thinking. “It depends on the universe, it seems. Here, when I’m not recovering from something, an hour or two a night, but I can sleep more or less as needed to keep up appearances. You’d be surprised at the weird things I have to do to keep up with customs or blend in.”

“What’s the weirdest one you have to do here?” Prompto asked, wondering what would be so weird about the way they all lived every day.

“Temperature reactions, definitely,” she answered immediately. “I’m always having to remind myself to sweat when we’re in town so people don’t notice I’m not. It’s kind of unpleasant, and it makes me thirsty.”

“Dude,” he replied, shaking his head, “that’s gross. Err, sorry.”

“Yeah, Princess, that’s a pretty weird one,” Gladio said.

Both Gladio and Prompto stayed quiet while Laura finished setting up everything they’d need for eating breakfast, and Iggy and Laura carried on a long scientific conversation about “the processes of internal temperature control by suppressing the hypothalamus and creating a thermal exchange directly on the skin.” When the two of them got into an argument about the laws of thermodynamics, Gladio looked over at him, an eyebrow raised, and Prompto shrugged in return. They were having . . . fun? He guessed?

When Noct finally came out of the tent, Laura served them all [tea](https://i.imgur.com/Vfkgefd.jpg) and sweet, hot pumpkin bread. The little bowls she’d taken out earlier turned out to be cups with tiny fish figurines swimming at the bottom. It was actually kinda funny, watching Gladio freaking out over them, running his fingers over their long fins with a little smile on his face each time his little cup was empty. Prompto supposed it was kinda cool that they were three-dimensional and not just painted on the bottom. She showed them how to brew the tea in the tiny teapot that seemed way too small to serve them all, pouring the boiling water, letting it sit for ten seconds or so, then moving back and forth between their five cups as she served them.

“It’s quite remarkable, the flavors you’ve managed to pull from the leaf of a tree. And you’re certain there are no artificial flavors? I’m detecting spicy vanilla, honey, Hulldagh cinnamon, and sweet autumn leaves,” Iggy said before taking another sip.

“I dunno bout all that, but it’s freaking awesome, Princess. Think I like it better than the gyokuro. What is it?” Gladio asked as he drained his cup again and held it out for another refill.

“No flavors, just leaf and water, Ignis. And it’s a white tea called shou mei, pressed into cakes and aged for ten years before I put it away,” she said.

It wasn’t really Prompto’s thing, all this pomp and circumstance, but the tea was good—tasted like tea, anyway, and the bread was better—sweet and spicy and warm. Noct didn’t seem to really care one way or the other about any of it, but then he’d never been a morning person. Gladio was having a good time. He’d been in a bad mood for a couple of days now, pestering Noct to get a move on to Lestallum the second Laura was better. But they weren’t headed for Lestallum next, which was kinda Prompto’s fault. He was the one who brought up going to see the chocobos when they’d finished with the base, and now it was all Noct could think about too. He hoped Gladio wasn’t too mad at him for it.

Arriving at the ranch, though, Prompto was devastated the chocobos weren’t available, weren’t even outside for him to _look_ at. The owner of the post, Wiz, said that chocobos wouldn’t be available until the monster that was picking off his herd, Deadeye, was hunted down, but so far, none of the hunters had been able to kill him. Noct volunteered their services, so they had to immediately head back out. Added to the fact he had to wait who knew how long before he could even get to see a chocobo, let alone pick one for himself, the cold, rainy weather was threatening to put a damper even on his sunny spirits as he trudged down the muddy path, kicking his feet at the sticks and leaves on the ground.

Eventually, he decided to quit dragging his feet and jogged to catch up with the rest of them, slowing down to a walk when he drew up between Laura and Noct.

“Hey guys! How ya liking this new scenery?”

“This rain kinda sucks,” Noct grumbled.

Laura closed her eyes and took a deep breath, smiling, her eyes bright. “I adore the forest. It’s where I feel most at home. I can almost feel the trees breathing each time the wind stirs. Listen.”

He and Noct stopped talking for a few moments, and at first, all he could hear was the sound of their feet on the muddy path and the splat of raindrops on the leaves and his clothes. He really hated getting wet, and he was freezing cold. After a few seconds, the wind whipped through the tops of the trees, making them kinda do this whispery roar that sounded almost exactly like Laura’s magic. It was kinda cool to hear the sound of so many trees doing it at once—something he’d never heard back in Insomnia, but now he was even colder than he was a second ago.

“I just wish we didn’t have to start our time here with killing something, but I suppose I should get used to it,” she said, looking down at her feet and kicking at the leaves a little as she walked.

Prompto still didn’t really understand her thing about animals. He loved animals too, a lot, felt bad for killing the peaceful ones on the rare occasions they did, but what were they supposed to do when something came running at them, or something like Deadeye was causing problems? After three weeks of being with them and hunting almost every day, they all thought she’d have joined in by now, but other than those saphyrtails, she hadn’t killed anything but daemons, MTs, and humans.

“So what would your people have done if a monster was killing your chocobos?” he asked.

Laura frowned before answering, “It’s just not something that would’ve happened. We would have protected them from being eaten with spells, perhaps have relocated the animal farther from our homes. It just depends, really. If this Deadeye were sentient enough, we would’ve established a telepathic connection and attempted to persuade him to leave.”

“So . . . basically you’re saying you’d cheat? I mean, it’s not like we can um . . . telepathically connect with Deadeye here.”

“It’s why I don’t judge you for hunting him, or any other animal. You don’t have the skills that my people had, and now even I don’t have those skills on this world. I’ve tried several times to connect with the wild animals here, and their minds are too feral, too mad for me to connect to, except for that anak you and I saw, Ignis.”

Ignis stepped lightly over a branch in the path and turned his head to look at them. “So you had determined telepathically that it was partially domesticated? That would’ve been good to know.”

“Ha! You’d only just learned I wasn’t an Insomnian noblewoman five minutes before that. Can you imagine that conversation? ‘Hey, Ignis, I can feel that girafalope over there talking in my head. Let’s go say hi!’”

Ignis looked at her from the side of his eye as he replied, “Well, you wouldn’t have had to word it quite like that.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you won’t hunt them with us,” Noct said.

“Or why you don’t seem to have an issue killing people,” Gladio added.

And that was a thought he’d been trying not to think about for three days now. Prompto’d been thinking about those soldiers since it happened, even if he kept trying not to. He couldn’t see their faces in his dreams, cause they all had helms on, but he could still see them falling under his shots when he closed his eyes. It didn’t matter what happened, he’d always hate killing people, but he’d made his choice when he decided to go with Noct on this trip. He was Lucian, no matter where he’d been born, and those people were attacking his home—attacking Noct’s subjects. They’d made their choice; he’d made his. He only hoped the others would see it that way if they ever found out about him. Guess it kinda made him a traitor to both sides now.

He wondered how Laura, with all her weird and complicated beliefs on life, couldn’t manage to kill an animal unless her friends were at death’s door, could still manage to kill a human. How she could live with it. Maybe it’d give him a clue of how he should live with it.

Laura’s face twisted into a grimace. “It’s . . . personal; well . . . no. It’s to do with my species. Ignis had no idea how right he was when he called me dichotomous. For the entire history of our racial memory, we were at peace with other non-sentients of our planet, more than peace, really. We depended on them and they on us—a symbiosis, and so it has always pained us to kill them.

“Humans, however, our people waged wars with them on and off throughout our history. As a result, there seem to be several . . . _enhancements_ in our evolutionary history that allow us to both blend in and kill them with greater ease.”

At the word “enhancements,” Laura’s face totally changed—became snarling and dark, and Prompto figured it was one of those things in her past that often made her look that way if she got to thinking too much about it. Was that what would happen to all of them when this was all over?

Laura took a deep breath and let it out slowly on a sigh before continuing. “It’s just complicated, sorry. Sanctity of life and war were delicate subjects among my people. We seemed to navigate both with equal skill.”

“So what about Deadeye? Are you gonna try and contact him?” he asked to change the subject.

“I’ll always keep trying. I had this friend who seemed to have the power of words. He never carried a weapon, just talked himself out of wars and angry tyrants wanting to kill him and mythical beasts wanting to eat him. But gods, as much as I love him, I was so naïve back then. Even without a weapon, death followed him everywhere, as it seems to for me. Still, it doesn’t stop me from trying to reach that ideal I had of him—the man who never kills, the man who could solve any problem without a weapon.”

“Doesn’t seem possible in the real world,” Gladio grumbled.

“No, it doesn’t, does it? Even now, I’m doing the same thing he did—stepping back and letting you do the work. I told you all I wasn’t perfect, and here’s the proof, even if there are additional factors involved. You all are far braver and more dedicated to your principles than I could ever be.”

“You got principles. They’re just different than ours,” Prompto said, butting her shoulder with his.

“And this is our fight, not yours,” Gladio said.

Prompto nodded in agreement. Even with her explanation after the Fall, he still didn’t really get what she was doing here.

“I think I understand, though,” he said. “I love animals, too. I wasn’t trained with the Crownsguard like these guys, not really—just took enough to know self-defense. But the thing is? I wasn’t really built for all this combat stuff. I’d much rather have pets than kill wildlife.”

Laura’s expression softened, and he was glad to have been the one to wipe that look off her face. “Yes, I can see that you have a great capacity for love.”

“And combat wise, you’re doin’ just fine, kid,” Gladio said, reaching out to ruffle his hair, but he ducked in time to miss the Shield’s hand.

“Really? You think I’m holdin’ my own?”

“Indeed, you have,” Iggy said.

“Told ya you’ve been doin’ good, Prom,” Noct said, shaking his head in exasperation.

He’d been friends with Noct through most of high school, and he’d always known that Noct was gonna have to go off on some royal adventure one day. But Prompto had always thought he’d be left behind. After all, he was nothing special, just a regular kid from school. When Noct told him the King said it’d be okay if he came along on this trip, he couldn’t believe it. He’d worked so hard, often staying up all night practicing his self-defense moves so he could pass and get his Crownsguard fatigues. Then after sparring sessions and classes all day, he’d head to the shooting range to get some practice in before flopping into bed and starting all over again.

It was frustrating, the tiny little improvements here and there; it reminded him of those days when he was losing weight, when he‘d work so hard all week and not even lose a quarter of a pound. But he’d kept at it, despite not really liking hand-to-hand combat, and got good enough to pass and get his fatigues, and then _he_ got to be the one to stand there in front of the King, in front of the throne, next to Noct, Gladio, and Ignis—three guys he’d never thought he’d ever even be allowed to be seen with, let alone _inside_ the Citadel with. It had been the best day of his life, up until this moment, with them all saying he was doing good. But there was still that sour note to the compliments. He still didn’t deserve them because he was still a fake; they still didn’t know him.

“Wow, you guys. Just, thanks,” he said with a laugh and a bounce on his toes, because that was the kinda stuff that made them smile.

Of course, he proved them all wrong in the fight against Deadeye. He wasn’t the kinda fighter that got in close like the other three; he liked to hang back and take shots from farther away. It helped him see the field, made it easier to prevent friendly fire, and kept him from being torn apart by the claws and teeth that were usually longer than his legs. This time, the claws and teeth were as long as his whole body, so he was pretty glad that he wasn’t standing two feet away from the legs as big as tree trunks like Noct, Gladio, and Iggy were.

After Noct had called on him to do his First Shot, he was, as usual, going berserk on the creature, jumping in the air and warp-striking over and over with his favorite engine blade that Cid had just upgraded until he almost wore himself out. Then he’d warp to a safe point to recharge and start all over again. Noct using magic was a side of his friend that he’d never gotten to see in high school, and it was kinda weird to see him use it now after knowing him these past five years. All that time, that guy standing next to him at the arcade cheering him on or melted into the couch cushions stuffing handfuls of popcorn in his face was capable of all that power. Prompto still couldn’t believe _he_ of all people had been given access to the Crystal’s powers, and he often forgot he could even use them until he needed to summon his weapons.

“Hell, yeah, get ya some of this!” he shouted in triumph as a really good shot landed on the beast’s neck. He shuffled off to the side in order to keep his distance as the dog from hell leapt in his direction, catapulting itself higher than twice Prompto’s height and landing feet away.

Since Iggy’d told them that Deadeye was most vulnerable to greatswords and shields, Noct mostly called on Gladio for help during this battle, but both Prompto and Iggy were doing their best to throw all the fire spells they could at the animal between using their own weapons. Now that Prompto had heard Gladio’s and Noct’s critique of Iggy’s fighting style on the field, he could kinda see it. Iggy was taking potions almost twice as much as the rest of them as he rushed between attacking the creature and protecting Noct. Prompto didn’t see how the guy could stand getting clawed like that so many times and still keep going.

Prompto had just ducked behind a barrel and was poking his head around to take aim at the devil dog’s good eye when it leapt toward him, its mouth open wide enough to swallow him whole and its teeth dripping with saliva.

Noct must not have seen him from his angle, because he tossed a fire flask straight at the barrel Prompto was crouched behind. Idiot—he shouldn’t have been in the way. The flask hit the barrel, igniting the fuel inside, and for a moment, all Prompto could think about was how he was gonna die as he choked on the cloud of gas fumes that surrounded him. He opened his eyes to find himself hunched over by the now exploded barrel, surrounded on all sides by an orange, red, and black ball of fire. He couldn’t move—couldn’t breathe, but somewhere in the distance, he could hear Noct screaming his name. This must’ve been like for Noct when he was inside the fire. He kept waiting for it to hurt, but it just kinda passed right over him.

The flames seemed to tickle at his bare arms as they dissipated, but it was the weirdest thing Prompto had ever experienced in his life so far. It was almost like being back in Galdin on the beach, with the warm breeze feathering against the hairs on his arms. Once he could see the field again, he stumbled backward and fell on his ass when he realized that Deadeye was feet in front of him, his head thrown back and his massive maw open wide in a scream. Prompto couldn’t help it. He screamed right along with it before it dropped to the ground, still and quiet.


	21. Chapter 21

They had almost gotten back to the post, and Gladio was _still_ ribbing him about the scream.

“Seriously, man, you sounded worse than my sister.”

“Oooh, burn!” he chuckled, trying to join in, but he wasn’t really feeling it.

Iggy raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. “Well, if you can’t stand the heat . . ..”

“I have to admit, I’d be screaming bloody murder if it had happened to me,” Laura said sympathetically.

They were walking up the driveway past where they’d parked the Regalia when Noct pulled him aside.

“You okay?” Noct asked, and Prompto wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but it almost looked like Noct was worried about him, like he was blaming himself for what happened and not Prompto for being in the way.

“Heh, heh. Yeah, man. No sweat,” Prompto said with a grin, pretending to wipe his forehead and rub his hand off on Noct’s jacket.

Noct grinned back at him, and Prompto felt he’d at least accomplished _something_ today. “So we’re cool then?”

“Oh yeah,” he laughed. “Totally chill, dude.”

Dusk was falling, so they had just enough time to choose a chocobo to bond with before they headed for the camper for the night. But Noct had already said on the way back that they’d be hanging out here all day tomorrow and spending the night, so Prompto knew he’d have plenty of time to get in some good shots, choose a good chocobo, and hang out—maybe even get in a few games of King’s Knight before they left.

Immediately upon seeing her first chocobo being led around the front yard, Laura began to laugh hysterically.

“Oh . . . my . . . gods . . .,” she gasped between giggles. “They’re _chickens_. Giant, ridable _chickens_.”

“What’s a chicken?” Prompto asked—felt like he was always asking, but she must not have heard him, because she danced toward the chocobo and reached out to pet it while introducing herself to the handler.

They made their way around back, where Wiz kept most of the unbonded chocobos in a stable attached to the back of the building. At the sight of all the bird heads poking over the stable doors, munching on gysahl greens, or beaking at their neighbors, Prompto found he could no longer contain himself.

“CHOCOBOS!” he cried out to Noct, jumping up and down as hard as he could and flapping his arms. This was gonna be so awesome! After all the years he and Noct had spent watching Charlie the Chocobo on the weekends, playing chocobo racing games, and talking about what kind of chocobo they’d get if they could have one, he was finally getting one of his very own. He already knew he wanted a yellow one named Sunny, so now it was only a matter of choosing.

Iggy was the first to choose his chocobo; he seemed to be immediately charmed by a spunky white hen and, after taking her out of her stall and looking her over carefully as she walked, named her Calima.

“Where’d you come up with that?” Prompto asked.

“It’s ancient Solheimian for ‘milk,’” he replied simply.

Gladio was the next to find his chocobo—unsurprisingly the largest one Wiz had, an enormous blue male.

“Who else is gonna carry all _this_ everywhere we’re goin’, eh, Kaze?” Gladio asked the bird while running his hands from his pecs to his abs.

Laura came bouncing up from behind him and grabbed Prompto’s arm, her lips pulled wide in a smile and her eyes glittering with excitement. Prompto couldn’t remember ever seeing her this . . . hyper before. It was kinda like seeing another version of himself.

“I can feel them Prompto!” she whispered excitedly, tugging at his arm and pointing to her head.

“Really? Cause they’re pets, you think?”

“I think so,” she said, nodding. “But how can I choose just one when they’re all so special?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Prompto replied, scratching at the back of his neck.

He hadn't expected it to be so hard. Wiz had a lot of yellow chocobos, and they were all so pretty, so bright, so friendly. When he said something about it to Iggy, Iggy just frowned at him.

“Do be certain that you choose an animal capable of making the trek across all of Lucis. You must choose a bird with proper conformation: strong, straight legs; thick-skinned feet; and a lighter frame with a higher surface-area-to-body-mass ratio. I recommend you choose a bird and take it out of its stall to walk it and test its gait.”

“Uh . . . yeah. I’ll do that. Thanks, Iggy,” Prompto said before turning back to the little male he was considering.

“It’s an important decision not to be made on a whim; you can’t simply wing it,” he said with a twitch of his lips. “After all, a broken-down bird will certainly put us all in a foul mood, especially whichever unfortunate creature you choose.”

“Seriously, Iggy?” Gladio asked with a chuckle and a roll of his eyes. “What’s gotten into you today, man?” But Iggy only cocked his head, arched an eyebrow, and continued to meander up the aisle, Calima following next to him on her lead rope.

“Yeah, don’ listen ta him,” Wiz said as he pulled Prompto’s shoulder closer. “All mah birds are in fine shape. Take yeh anywhere.”

“Uh, yeah, I bet,” he said.

He kinda wished everyone would just let him choose his own chocobo and stop making him think about all the different factors he had to consider. He looked away from Wiz to see Noct coming back down the aisle.

“So, after all these years,” Prompto said, “that’s Byrrus? How’d you pick?”

Noct shrugged and said, “He was the only red one they had. He’s really nice though.”

“Yeah, the red ones’re pretty rare,” Wiz cut in.

“Hey though, that’s awesome! You wanna take ‘em for a ride tomorrow? Maybe race ‘em a bit?”

Noct grinned and said, “You’re on, but you gotta pick one first.”

Noct’s strategy for picking wasn’t gonna help him out much. At least Laura was still looking at all the birds, talking to them, stroking their cheek feathers, and smiling—taking her time. It made him feel like he wasn’t holding everyone up at least. Felt like he was always holding everyone up.

As he stood there for a second watching Laura, he felt a light nudge on the side of his head and a weight settle on his shoulder. Slowly, Prompto looked out of the corner of his eye to see that a little yellow chocobo had rested its head on his shoulder. She had to be a hen, with that sweet expression in those large black eyes.

“Sunny?” he whispered, and bird gave a little coo and ruffled her feathers. He reached up with a tentative hand and stroked the bird’s cheek, and her eyes pinned before falling closed in delight.

Prompto pulled out his camera, held it up to their faces, and smiled as wide as he could, giving a thumbs up at the camera before snapping the picture. Yeah, that was the moment right there that he’d get to keep forever—the moment he’d found his friend.

“Do ya think maybe I could have her? Please?” Prompto asked Wiz, who clipped a lead to her halter and handed it to Prompto.

“She’s all yours, then. Make sure yeh pick out yer tack when yer ready,” Wiz said with a smile, but then he turned to the back of the barn to where Laura was still looking. “Hey, no sense goin’ back there. There’s just the mad one back there. And don’ turn that light on, whatever ya do. He’s afraid a’ light.”

“I do hope you realize, now that you’ve said that, she’s more likely to do exactly the opposite,” Iggy said, and Prompto couldn’t tell if he was irritated or amused.

“Where’d the Noct and Gladio go?” Prompto asked.

“Outside,” he replied, stumbling a little as Calima nudged him hard on the shoulder. Iggy reached up to stroke her neck before continuing, “They were eager to choose their tack.”

“Oh, I kinda wanna stay here and wait for Laura to pick a chocobo,” Prompto said, patting Sunny and leading her down the aisle closer to where Laura was headed.

“Yes, as do I,” Iggy said from behind him. “I’m most interested to see how her additional abilities of perception influence her choice.”

When they’d drawn closer to Laura at the very end of the aisle, Prompto had to squint a little to see in the dim light.

When she reached the door to the very last stall, a large black head thrust out at her, nearly catching her arm with its vicious, snapping beak. As she ducked away, the chocobo let out ear-splitting screech, which set the other birds to spinning in their pens and squawking. Even Sunny tossed her head in the air, puffing up her feathers and taking a step back, and Prompto had to grip her lead more tightly and stroke her neck to get her to settle.

Prompto turned back to Laura and watched as her face grew still and calm. She held both her hands, palms out, to the bird, who cocked his head and screeched again. Prompto could just make out in the dim light that his eyes were wide with fright, rolling in his skull, and pinning like crazy.

“Really, little lady, yeh ain’t doin’ ‘im no favors. He don’t like bein’ around people,” Wiz said.

“She possesses some animal magic,” Iggy told the man. “She may be able to be of some help to the poor animal.”

“Well, so do I, but tha’ hasn’t made much difference,” Wiz replied.

Laura kept her eyes locked on the chocobo as she said in a soft, soothing voice, “Dameh, dameh. Calipha wethren. Lich thana. Me paralínn doleth, oa lathá? Nia woroth. Nia miámenn.”

With gentle hands, she stood on the tips of her toes reached up for the bird’s head. “I wouldn’t,” Prompto heard Wiz warn her one more time, but she ignored him and made contact with the bird’s cheeks.

“Sira phleneth. Hallanath, opho?” she seemed to ask as she continued to stroke the chocobo’s cheeks, and he settled down, closing his eyes. “Nia miámenn.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Wiz said. “I ain’t never seen anythin’ like it. We haven’t bin able ta get near that bird for two years now. Old Deadeye attacked ‘im. Well, we nursed ‘im back ta health, but he never recovered his mind, poor thing. We done the best we could with ‘im, but there weren’t much we could do. It’s a shame. Not a lot of black chocobos ‘round here ta begin with.”

“He’s coming with us,” she said with finality.

“Well, hell, if ya can git a saddle and bridle on ‘im, he’s all yours. Not like anyone else can ride him,” Wiz said, tossing her a lead. “Can’t make any guarantees bout yer safety though.”

“So that’s the one? Awesome!” Prompto cheered as she clipped the lead on the bird, whispering in hushed tones.

“He’s a handsome fellow. You’ll have to choose a name for him,” Ignis told her.

“His name is Saracchian,” she said.

“And from which universe does that name hail?” Ignis asked.

She gave Iggy an exasperated look before replying, “One of mine. It’s from an old legend about a kind-hearted man who went to war to save his people, came back a hero, but the cost was the loss of his innocence. He was never the same again. I think Saracchian feels something similar about his ordeal with Deadeye.”

“That sounds . . . tragic,” Ignis said.

“Life can be that way, sometimes,” she said in a faraway voice, stroking Saracchian’s beak.

She began leading the bird out into the more crowded space of the aisle when the bird startled suddenly at being close to him and Iggy, jerking his head back and puffing up again in alarm.

“Shhh,” she said, reaching up and spreading her fingers wide across the chocobo’s skull. “Caliphat Prompto. Caliphat Ignis. Lichen thiánnen.” Then she turned to the two of them. “If you wouldn’t mind reaching out slowly and petting him, please.”

“So is that your native language?” Prompto asked as he and Iggy reached out to run their fingers over Saracchian’s sleek black neck. The bird seemed to tremble for a moment, but then settled.

“It depends on what you mean by native. It’s the language of my people, of Palomia, but I didn’t learn it until I was over a hundred years old. This is actually my first language.”

“Why is it that your first language is ours if you’re not native our universe, let alone our country?” Ignis asked.

“Ha! Have I got some news for you! You’re not speaking ‘your’ language. You’re speaking mine. I haven’t figured out yet how or why, but the entire concept of the Lucian language is a façade. Are all the languages on Eos like that?”

“I’m aware of the nature of Lucian, having spent some time attempting to solve the mystery myself, but I unfortunately never made any headway in it,” he replied, turning to the entrance of the stables and walking slowly with Calima. “I speak Tenebraen, Accordion, Galahdian, Niflian, and ancient Solheimian nearly fluently, even though the influence of Lucis is such that Lucian is spoken primarily in all those areas, but all is as it should be with those languages. All have descended from ancient Solheimian. Lucian remains the exception.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Prompto asked, following behind them.

Iggy stopped and turned to him. “There is overwhelming evidence that Lucian was derived from several languages that have never been discovered in any archaeological finds—kingdoms and civilizations that either never existed or simply vanished into thin air. There is even evidence of the passage of time, our language possessing both ancient words and newer words from child languages, and yet, the evidence of these cultures still eludes us. The linguistics community has been unable to identify a parent language for Lucian at all.”

“That’s because it’s not Lucian,” Laura said as they stepped out into the dusky light. She had to stop for a moment with Saracchian, as he had immediately frozen on finding himself outside. “Shhh, nia miámenn, Saracchian,” she said, burying her fingertips under the chocobo’s chest feathers and rubbing on either side of his breastbone.

She turned to the both of them and said, “You’re both speaking English. It’s _my_ language from _my_ planet, Earth. It belongs on Earth, and its parent language, one of the Germanic languages, along with all the loanwords from Latin, French, Norse, and everything else, are all from civilizations that come from _my_ world. You lot seem to be particularly obsessed with Latin though—seem to name everything in Latin.”

“There is evidence that there was once meaning to the names of our streets and family names, and even that we use names from several languages that do not exist at all in Lucian, yet the meanings of those names are lost.” He shook his head. “So, after all these years, the mystery of the Lucian language is solved,” Iggy said in wonder, his eyes wide. “It’s a pity we can never publish a paper on the subject; we’d be laughed out of any conference, certainly. But there is still yet a mystery to solve: how did your language come to be the primary source of communication for our kingdom?”

“I don’t know,” she said. When Iggy inclined his head at her, his gaze darkening, she continued, “Really, it’s nothing to do with me, that I know of. I certainly didn’t come here and plant the seed for your entire civilization, and I have no plans of doing so.” Her gaze turned inward for a moment as she stared off into space. “No, I don’t think I have anything to do that, thank gods.”

Prompto never really knew what to say to add to the conversation when they got to talking like this. He’d always done pretty decent in school, but both of them operated a level he couldn’t even touch. So he listened, not really understanding the consequences of what they were discussing, but tucking away the information as best he could in case it was important later. But then he had a thought.

“Um . . . didn’t you tell us you were from another planet? Started with an M?”

It seemed that Saracchian had calmed down enough for them to start walking again, so Laura pulled on his lead and began walking them all to the tack room on other side of the building, opposite to the stable doors.

“Yes, I was born in one universe on Miriásia, sort of adopted in another universe by humans on Earth. It’s a long story,” she said.

“Hey, you were adopted? Me too!” he reached out to give her a fist bump. She must know _exactly_ what it felt like then, never quite fitting in, if she’d been raised by parents that weren’t even from the same planet! And didn’t she say that humans were once enemies to her people? Yeah, she probably got that whole traitor thing totally.

“Actually, it kind of sucks sometimes,” he said in a quieter voice, “being adopted.”

“Yes, I agree. I don’t know what it was like for you, but for me? Two universes, two planets, two species, two names, two languages, two cultures, two physical forms . . .. It can take its toll trying to figure out who you are while trying to fit in with wherever you are at the time. No matter where you are, you never quite fit in.”

Ignis opened his mouth to say something, but Prompto had to cut in. She and Iggy had had enough fun today, talking about thermodynamics and linguistics, but this was _his_ area of expertise. Finally!

“I know _exactly_ how you feel! I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere cause of that, ya know?”

“Yes, I know the feeling well. But you have a happy ending, yeah? You found your place with them,” she said, gesturing to Ignis, who had joined Gladio and Noct in the open tack room doorway with their new chocobos.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I guess I did. Just . . . sometimes, I don’t even know about that. They’re all so amazing at everything. I’m just . . . normal. Nothin’ special about me. Soon as they figure that out, I’m toast.”

He wasn’t trying to fish for compliments, but if she had ever felt like an outsider because of being adopted, maybe she would understand this feeling that seemed to follow him everywhere.

“You’re wrong about that, you know.”

“I dunno,” he said, trying to brush it off, covering up his embarrassment by reaching for Sunny’s wing and giving it a pat.

“We aren’t just a military unit. We’re all friends, which means we need more than weapons to get by. You support them in fights; you lift them up when they’re down. Your innocence and enthusiasm remind them what they’re fighting for.”

She put her hand on his shoulder then and turned so she was standing right in front of him, making sure his eyes were looking directly into hers.

“And recent events should teach you that not everything is as it appears. We’re all hiding something, Prompto. We’re all not as perfect as we appear to be.”

Prompto looked over at Ignis, who was holding up a black leather bridle with intricately-carved silver accents to Calima’s head, his lips moving a little as he spoke unheard words to the hen with a soft smile. But Ignis’s secrets were different; he was never in danger of being kicked out of the group, of being killed. Still, she had a point.

“Yeah,” he said with a chuckle. “Guess you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Signs in Altissia, Tenebrae, and Gralea suggest that these languages are based on Italian, French, and German respectively. I've changed this because reasons.


	22. Chapter 22

“Would you mind if I joined you?” Ignis asked as he approached the camper, and Noct and Prompto looked up at him.

“Uh . . . that’s okay, Specs. We’re just playing a game; don’t feel like you need to be here for this. Um . . . why don’t you find something else to do?” Noct replied, leaning forward in the plastic chair and setting his forearms on the table with his phone in his hands.

Ignis couldn’t help but release the smallest huff of a sigh. He thought he understood what Noct was doing, allowing him to spend their rare free time as he wished instead of indulging the Prince in joining in his hobbies, but it was unnecessary. It was true that playing videogames wasn’t a natural inclination of his, but Ignis enjoyed the sight of Noct enjoying himself, and the games themselves were mildly diverting in short bursts. They stirred his competitive side and allowed him to spend leisure time with the Prince where he could be “the fun one,” a very rare occasion indeed.

Still, he’d leave them be if Noct would rather spend time with Prompto. Prompto always seemed to be better at gauging and influencing Noct’s mood than Ignis, and he was always appreciative of how much happier, and more cooperative, the Prince was after spending so much free time with the younger man. Perhaps things would normalize between them if he left Noct alone with Prompto for a while.

“Of course, Highness,” he said with a slight bow, and he thought he saw Noct wince before he turned away and headed back toward the main building of the post. It seemed as though Laura’s attitude regarding royal status had rubbed off on the Prince somewhat, and Ignis wasn’t quite certain how he felt about that.

Though the others had mostly gone back to behaving as they always had, Noct was still treating him as though he didn’t quite know who Ignis was anymore, as though he were made of spun glass. He would wait patiently to see if this attitude changed, but if it went on for much longer, Ignis would have to say something about it to him directly. He was uncertain, however, if even a chat would normalize things between them. After Noct had referred to him as a _brother_ the other day, he wasn’t completely certain what normal even was anymore, as Ignis had always believed himself to be more of a source of irritating fondness and friendship in the Prince’s life. But then, Laura had pointed out to him that that was the very definition of brotherhood.

Leisure time. It was a foreign concept to him. Typically, back in Insomnia, the rare unscheduled moment, which usually didn’t last longer than a quarter of an hour, was filled with feeding himself, finishing up reports on debriefings, cleaning either his or Noct’s apartments, returning e-mail correspondence with what seemed to be half of Eos, or examining the latest news from the Empire or the outlands. Out here, hardly any of his moments were scheduled; it was a foreign feeling to be led through the day by the sun and not his watch, but that hardly made him any less busy, even with Laura’s near constant assistance. But checking over his lists, he found they’d already completed that which needed to be done today, including scrubbing that filthy camper to within an inch of its life. It meant that this leisure time was truly that—for leisure.   

There were a thousand hobbies and interests he’d allowed to lapse as he grew older and busier that he could perhaps begin to explore again this afternoon, but he found he didn’t want that. Wishing not to be alone, he decided he would search out Gladio or Laura instead. Should he perhaps change, though, in case it was Laura that he found first?

Ignis glanced down at himself. They had all gotten silly chocobo-themed t-shirts at Wiz’s shop and changed into them to take photos with the chocobos out front before adding their own birds to the portraits. For nearly an hour, the five of them acted like children as they struck goofy poses and made faces at the camera. It was odd, how such a frivolous moment made Ignis feel connected to his four friends, almost like a family, but as he’d put an arm around Gladio and another around Noct, made two peace signs, and smiled, he could come up with no other word for it.

He shouldn’t attempt to delude himself; he had no intention of looking for Gladio, as much as he enjoyed the contemplative Shield’s company.

Deciding not to change, since Laura had still been wearing her t-shirt when she’d wandered off with Saracchian, he strode in the direction he’d last seen her, heading behind the main building toward the hill that overlooked verdant fields and the Disc of Cauthess in the distance. As he stood at the top of the steep incline, it only took a moment to find her resting against Saracchian’s side out on the fields below, much as they had once done against that anak in the Weaverwilds. Saracchian’s head was even resting in her lap in much the same manner as she gently ran her fingers through his crest. Ignis thought of calling for Calima, but the last time he’d seen her, he’d left her with some greens to charge up for a race later this afternoon, so he picked his own way down the incline to approach Laura, hoping she was up to some company.

He and Laura had spent an hour the previous morning discussing the full events of the paradoxis before they’d foraged. He had, of course, been entirely furious with her for her sacrifice—more furious than he could ever remember being with anyone. This entire situation had been the first time he’d been able to look past her divinity and see that it was possible to lose her, that she was, in fact, fallible—almost absurdly so. But she’d had the same obligation to keep the world together as he, which he could hardly fault her for, even if she would have taken the same actions regardless. She had only just seemed to have gained her full measure of strength from her exertions in the last day, much to his shame, and this morning was the first morning he’d caught her awake before the dawn.

But even despite his fury with her, he’d been in an almost giddy mood since she’d awoken yesterday morning. He found that his excuses to touch her as they foraged were met with happy acceptance and reciprocation, and the lively discussions they had engaged in were stimulating and fascinating with her unique point of view. He’d made a new friend in his beautiful and sweet Calima, and now he was going to have the opportunity to spend a free afternoon alone with Laura.

It took him longer than he’d thought it would to reach her, as she was farther away than she’d appeared when he’d stood on the overlook. Duscae was, as he expected, stunning, and this view she had chosen to spend her leisure time in was no exception. As he wove through a small copse of spindly trees, whose leaves were dancing merrily in the breeze, he cast his eyes to the towering evergreens above him, humbled by the sight of something alive being so much larger than he was. As he cleared the copse, the landscape opened up before him, offering a sweeping view of the fields of lush grass and gravel, patches of low underbrush, and slanted walls of grey and rust-veined rock. In the distance, he could just make out the shape of the massive stone arches and frozen wave of the mythril wing of the Disc. The sight was so breathtaking that he wondered if she expected him to come and find her in this place.

As he drew closer, he froze, hearing once again her ethereal, lilting voice drifting on the wind of the open field. That song—that melody that haunted his dreams for so many years. She was singing that song to Saracchian, but she wasn’t humming it as she had with him as a child. He hadn’t even known that the song had had lyrics. When her voice ceased, the song having reached its conclusion, she looked up at him, her loose hair blowing every which way in the wind as though it were a living creature.

“Some of those words are surprisingly apropos. Did you choose that particular melody for me deliberately?”

Her lip curled as she responded mysteriously, “Everything I say and do is on purpose, until it isn’t.”

Saracchian flinched in her lap as he drew close enough to look down at her, the feathers on his head standing on end, but Laura lowered her gaze and shushed the bird.

“Dameh,” she whispered, placing her hand flat on the top of his head, and he slowly settled back down, closing his eyes.

“You never sang the words to me; I would have remembered them,” he said more quietly so as not to frighten Saracchian again.

Laura looked up at him again. “And that right there would have been a problem. In an entire book, it’s easy to pass off odd words if the story is fantastical enough. In a song, however . . . I couldn’t explain to you what horses and bears were, as they’re animals that apparently don’t exist on this planet.”

“I see,” he said as he looked down at the grass at his feet in front of her, considering his next move. It wasn’t as though he could play nonchalant and pretend he’d just happened by; he’d had to walk for nearly twenty minutes to reach her. “Would you mind if I joined you?”

That smile of hers widened into a grin, and he felt his body grow warm at the sight. “I’d love that,” she said.

To his surprise, as soon as he settled down across from her, his legs outstretched in front of him, she lifted Saraccian’s head with a touch to his beak and leaned forward, reaching for Ignis’s boots.

“What on Eos do you think you’re doing?” he asked with half-alarm, half-interest, though he didn’t pull back from her. Ignis had a feeling he was about to embark on one of her mad adventures, and though he felt the dread he always did in the beginning of these experiences, he found he couldn’t wait to get to the wondrous part.

“Exactly what it looks like I’m doing,” she said, reaching up underneath the leg of his trousers and fumbling at the laces of his left boot. “Honestly, what sort of a man sits in a field with grass as lush as this with his boots on? And the sky is grey today, increases the contrast and makes it look an even brighter green—sets your eyes aglow, too.”

Before he could even begin to contemplate her words, she had untied the laces, slipped his boot off, and dismissed it to the armiger.

“Seriously? Sock garters? Blimey, what a classy gentleman, you are,” she said with a seductive hum as she once again reached up the leg of his trousers, her fingers brushing against his shins. But he found he couldn’t reply to her, as something in his chest had lodged in his throat at the feeling of her fingers in a place he was almost certain no one had ever touched him before in his life. Then again, that could probably be said for almost his entire body.

“I suppose I’m along for this ride whether I like it or not,” he finally managed as she reached for his right boot, but her hands stilled immediately at his words.

“I’m sorry. Do you not want this? I know I can seem demanding at times; I don’t mean to be, honestly. I just tend to get carried away, but I don’t _ever_ want you to think you don’t have a choice. You _always_ have a choice with me, Ignis. Just tell me to get the hell away from you if that’s what you want.”

“No! Forgive me. I was just being . . . sarcastic. It comes and goes,” he replied with a wry smile. Apprehensive though he was for her plans, he was most eager to see them play out. Perhaps those inconsistencies were showing up in his mind enough for her to pick up on? He did his best to smother the apprehension.

She remained still for a moment, her head tilting as she searched his face. Finally, she seemed to find whatever she was looking for, because she removed his other boot and sock without another word. When she’d finished, she ran her fingertips over the tops of his bare feet, stroking from his ankle to the tips of his toes. Ignis found he had to lean back on his elbows and close his eyes against the sensation because it was far more intimate than he had expected it to feel. Surely she wasn’t this tactile with the others?

“You have long toes,” she said introspectively, running a finger up the second toe of his left foot, circling the pad of her fingertip around the two or three hairs on his knuckle before continuing up to his toenail.

Ah, this old complaint. He’d heard similar comments his entire life, even from Noct and Gladio. He was long, lean, freckled, and pale—he knew it—and it seemed everyone in his life was eager to take the time to remind him that he was whichever adjective they themselves weren’t. Even these weeks spent in the sun, with his incessant application of sunscreen after that first day of pushing the car, hadn’t changed the color of his complexion. A fellow Crownsguard had once made the mistake of commenting on his “freakishly long toes” in the changing room, but had never again said another word after Ignis had thoroughly trounced the man in sparring two days later, within the bounds of proper sparring etiquette, of course. He knew that the source of the teasing from Gladio and Noct came from a place of affection, but it still made him uncomfortable enough to keep well-covered in public unless he had to. He hadn’t expected Laura to make such a comment on his physique, however, as everything she’d said in the past had been flatteringly positive.

“Well, all of me is long,” he said somewhat irritably, “stands to reason my toes would be as well. Is that a problem?”

Her sapphire eyes snapped to his as she wrapped a hand around his right foot and squeezed. “Not at all,” she said without hesitation. “I think your toes are lovely.”

“My toes—” he began incredulously, unable to believe those words had left her lips.

“Are lovely, yes,” she said with a smile, and at her words, she wrapped both her hands around his right foot, squeezing and digging her thumbs deep into the flesh of his arch. “And your skin is so soft,” she said in a voice to match her words. “They even smell nice; you must have one hell of a shoe powder.”

“A m—mix of several brands,” he stammered as she ran both her thumbs down the line of his arch again.

By the gods, why did every touch from her transcend everything he’d ever experienced in his existence? As her thumb pressed into the area just below the ball of his foot, he collapsed completely in the grass, and a sound that he swore had never before escaped his throat clawed its way up through his lungs and past his lips, though its volume likely wasn’t as resounding as it was in his own ears. He immediately raised his head to discern her reaction, which seemed to be that of profound elation.

“Apologies,” he mumbled, still appalled by his lack of control. “That was inappropriate.”

“Nonsense,” she said, switching to his other foot. “There’s nothing at all inappropriate about expressing appreciation and pleasure.” Her voice grew soft as she continued. “Just lie back and enjoy it. Stop thinking about how you _should_ be thinking or feeling and just feel.”

It was exactly the right thing to say, because as he laid his head back down in the springy grass and raised his eyes the underside of the massive Duscaean Pine swaying above his head, his mind wanted to wander to every thought he should be having about this situation: how mortified he would feel should one of the others happen to stumble upon them in this moment; how a queen and goddess was currently rubbing his feet as he lay lounging on the ground; how he, the servant, should be the one doing this to her.

But this was part of the letting go, wasn’t it? He fisted his fingers in the strands of grass and allowed himself to be swept away by the breeze on his face; the cushion of grass at his back; the feel of her soft, warm hands on his skin; and the tide of pleasure that seemed to crash against the soles of his feet and roll up his legs. He hadn’t realized how sore they’d been from all the walking they’d been doing these past three weeks until she’d begun working out the muscles there.

After several minutes spent together in silence, he felt her hands leave him, and he opened his eyes when he noted from behind his eyelids that something was blocking his face from the light of the overcast sky. Gods, her face was right there, hovering over him, glowing with euphoria, and her hair was hanging down to brush against his jaw and shoulders in the breeze—in a way that felt almost intimate.

“Breathe, Ignis,” she said in a low voice.

He obeyed without question, inhaling a deep breath through his nose, and that scent of hers threatened to drown him.

“No,” she said with a chuckle, shaking her head, but her eyes were still sparkling. “You’re doing it wrong.”

“Really? I must beg to differ, as I’ve managed to survive all these years breathing in much the same manner. Still, I suppose I’m open to advice if you have any,” he said with a smirk, and her soft lips pulled even wider.

“Do you remember last time, when I had you smell the life?” she asked, and he nodded. “This time I want you to taste it. Let the air in through your mouth, roll it over your tongue, taste the life in the air.”

Her voice was so luminous that he wondered if she was capable of casting a spell on him in Lucian rather than Lliamérian, because he immediately complied without a thought, inhaling deeply until he thought his lungs would burst from expanding so far. At first, as the cool, wet air rushed over his tongue and palate, all he could taste was her intoxicating scent, which was life enough, he supposed, but he doubted that was what she was aiming for. He took another breath and realized what she meant. If he was truly paying attention, he could taste the mineral scent of rock on his tongue; the sweet, juicy flavor of fresh grass; damp soil; and even the wild, gamey aroma of chocobo on the air.

“Yes, that’s it,” she whispered, closing her eyes and settling down in the crook of his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, inordinately pleased that she’d settled so close to him like this of her own accord.

“I can’t imagine living your life like this,” he said to the top of her head. “It seems as though you strive to make every moment wondrous.”

She hummed in response before replying, “As a very, very wise man once told me, ‘Seize the time. Live now. Make now always the most precious time. Now will never come again.’ Of course, he thought I was his mortal daughter at the time . . . long story. The point is, even if I have infinite moments ahead of me, none will ever be exactly like this one, so I do my best to make it special—for you and for me, but especially for you.”

He still couldn’t fathom why she had chosen here with him to spend her most precious time. She could be anywhere right now—in all of time in space, in all the multiverse, and she was lying barefoot in the grass in his arms wearing a ridiculous chocobo t-shirt and staring up at what was likely, to her, a thoroughly ordinary sky. Her grasp of life must be so very different from his, with all she was capable of perceiving, if this was the moment she was choosing to live right now.

“What must it feel like,” he asked, half expecting not to receive an answer, “to see time the way you do? To see the world as you do, with past, present, and future all one in the same? To know the entire multiverse?”

She propped herself up on an elbow, leaning over him again and searching his eyes, and her expression morphed into an odd combination of wistful amusement, with her eyes desperately melancholy, but her lips quirked up a little at the corner.

“It’s like when you're a kid,” she began, “the first time they tell you the world is turning, and you just can't quite believe it because everything looks like it's standing still.” She placed a hand over his heart, closing her eyes, tilting her head, and lowering her voice. “I can feel it—” she breathed, and the rate of her words picked up in speed and intensity as she continued, almost as though she were afraid, “the turn of the planet. The ground beneath our backs is spinning at a thousand miles an hour. The entire planet is hurtling around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour. And I can _feel_ it.”

Her eyes opened wide in that moment, boring into his with golden wonder and power and foreboding that almost made him breathless as she moved her hand from his heart to his shoulder, gripping tightly. These moments, right here, were what made him feel small before her, were what reminded him of her divinity, as no mortal being could emulate that terrifying look in her eyes—a tone that was matched in her voice as she spoke her next words.

“Ignis, we're falling through space, you and me, clinging to the skin of this tiny little world. And, if we let go . . .,” she trailed off, letting go of his shoulder and drifting her hand back down to his heart. But she never finished her sentence, leaving him to wonder what _would_ happen if they let go, as that was exactly what he’d been doing these past few days.

He never got the chance to ask her, for she pulled away from him so suddenly that he wondered for a moment if she had simply vanished into thin air—or perhaps that she had simply never existed in the first place. But as he looked over to see her standing above him with that bright smile of hers, she bent down and took his hand, pulling him up until he was standing.

“Come,” she said, her expression so very alive once more. “Allons-y!” she added with a laugh. She didn’t let go of his hand; rather, she pulled him along through the grass toward some unknown destination as she said, “Let me show you.”

Ignis felt a stirring of alarm at her words, but he reminded himself to relax—to let go—and settle into the feeling of the grass beneath his bare feet for the first time in his life. There was grass, of course, in Insomnia, but he’d never had the desire nor opportunity to traipse around outside undressed like a heathen. Now that he’d been convinced to do so, he was surprised to find he wasn’t as disgusted by the sensation of the damp greenery between his toes as he thought he would be; it was the finest plush carpet, with long, delicate fibers tickling at the soles of his feet. The soft soil beneath the carpet gave a little under his weight with each step, and each stride seemed to pull away cleanly, leaving his soles unmuddied. Still, it certainly wasn’t going to be a custom he’d make a habit of.

They stopped in a thoroughly ordinary spot, seemingly identical to the one they had just vacated, at least to Ignis, but Laura looked closely at the ground around them before taking his other hand and smiling up at him.

“Spin with me,” she said before she stepped to the side, leading him in a circle.

Ignis frowned, but complied nevertheless. “Why are we doing this?”

She picked up speed as she replied with a laugh, “You wanted to know what it felt like. I’m showing you. Faster!”

Wondering what other daft commands of hers he would end up following on this deranged experience of theirs, he obeyed, leaning back so the weight of his balance was now dependent on hers and shuffling his feet to the side, picking up speed until he couldn’t possibly move them any faster. The world around them became a blur of green and grey, grass and rock and cloudy sky, until the only thing that was in focus was her joyous, laughing face and her blue-black hair whipping to the side like a banner caught in the wind.

Yes, he knew this feeling well. This was exactly what it felt like falling for her.

“You’re absolutely mad!” he cried out before throwing his face to the sky and pouring all his disbelief and wonder into an eruption of laughter.

“Do you trust me, Ignis?” she asked as they continued to whirl in circles. “This won’t be the same unless you do exactly as I ask.”

“I’m all in,” he replied immediately with a grin, though he was beginning to grow dizzy. The apprehension had long since dissipated, leaving nothing but that euphoria in his heart that always seemed to show on her face in moments like these.

“I’m going to count to three, then you’re going to close your eyes and let go. There’s nothing behind us; I made certain of it. But it won’t work unless you close your eyes.”

Of course she would ask of him the one thing he hated doing most in the world, relinquishing what little control he had over his own life, closing his eyes in the face of uncertainty, and facing peril in the dark. Nothing good ever came of it. However, he supposed that that was what was always asked of mortals seeking favors from the gods—a sacrifice of the highest order. But she was not one of the Six, balanced with cruelty and mercy in equal measure. She was giving him the choice. And she was Rose— _his_ Rose.

“All right,” he said, his voice and will made firm.

“One. Two . . .three!”

Ignis cast aside his every instinct, slammed his eyes shut, and let go of her hands at the same moment she did. His body flew backwards through the air as time seemed to slow, and suddenly, the ground felt much farther away than he’d originally thought. For how much longer would he float like this? But then he realized . . . he was falling through space. He had let go, ceded control, and was now falling through space, with no idea when he would land, where he would land, or what it would feel like when he did. The disorientation was overwhelming, as his head was still spinning; he’d wanted to be swept away, and she’d done exactly as he’d wished. It was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.

Yes, exactly like falling for her.

The moment was over far too soon as he landed, completely unharmed, on the plush grass beneath him, but he kept his eyes closed as his world continued to whirl. He felt her presence settle next to him as he breathed, and as his heartbeat began to return to normal and the rush in his ears settled, he could hear her heavy breath next to him. Ever so slowly, he opened his eyes to see her gazing at him, her own eyes alight.

“That? That’s what it feels like to be you?” he asked breathlessly.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “In every moment.”

Ignis shook his head. “I don’t understand how you could bear it, feeling that all the time.”

“There was . . . an adjustment period, for certain, but now you know why I’m so mad,” she replied with a grin. Her expression suddenly transformed to concentration when she breathed in deeply. “Wait. Do you smell that?” she asked, looking out onto the horizon.

Having some trouble keeping up with this mercurial whimsy and still recovering from his most recent experience, he sat up and sniffed at the air, discerning nothing that would change her mood so quickly.

“No, what is it?”

He was startled by her sudden burst of laughter. “My _gods_ , but I love this planet! Two adventures in one; the timing couldn’t be more perfect,” she hooted before turning to Saracchian, who was still lying several meters away, staring at the two of them. “You may as well go, dear, so you don’t get caught in it as well,” she said, and to Ignis’s surprise, the bird stood and trotted toward the ranch.

Then she turned to him. “Is there anything you don’t want getting wet?”

“Here,” he said without hesitation, reaching into his pocket and handing her his mobile. “This won’t go into our armiger.” Though he was hardly any more excited to get wet than he usually was, he’d already decided that if he could keep feeling like this, he’d follow her anywhere.

“I’ll never understand the logic of that thing,” she said, shaking her head. “Ridiculous.” She took it from him and dismissed it to her Pocket before scooting into his side closely enough that their bodies touched from shoulder to hip to knee.

The dizziness he’d only just recovered from began to make itself known, though to a lesser degree, and the tempo of his heart increased once again as he contemplated what he was about to do. He’d felt this way a time or two before, when he’d had a glass of champagne at a function and had forgotten to eat something beforehand, but he’d been able to control himself at the time, as he hadn’t also been overwhelmed with wave after wave of giddiness. Now, he could only hope she wouldn’t notice the slight tremor in his hand. He lifted it slowly, convincing himself that it would be all right, that he had done this before in the past, but somehow it felt different. Settling his arm around her shoulders and wrapping his fingers around the curve of her bicep, he let out a silent, perhaps slightly shaky breath.

To his disappointment, she didn’t look up at him, but she did lean into his shoulder and bring a hand around his back to squeeze him, which was more than reward enough. For certain, this was no more than she’d done with Gladio the other day, simply in a sitting position, but she was doing it with _him_.

“Look out to the horizon now. It may be too soon for your eyes, but it’s starting.”

Ignis swung his gaze in the direction she’d indicated, squinting out to the horizon. At first, he couldn’t discern anything but a distant haze, somewhat obstructing his view of the mythril wing of the Disc of Cauthess. Instead of turning to ask her what he was supposed to be looking for, he waited patiently, breathing in the fresh air mixed with her scent, reveling in the warmth of her body against his, and simply enjoying the concept of being alive in this moment. He could hear the gentle slaps of water falling from the sky onto the dead leaves and bright green grass as it began to sprinkle.

After a minute or two, he saw it—a massive, sweeping wall of slate blue against the landscape. The drops falling from the sky and landing on his shoulders with heavy slaps increased in frequency as the wall drew closer—until it broke over the both of them, swallowing them whole and roaring in his ears like a waterfall. Every inch of his body was instantly soaked as the sky continued to pelt him with tens of thousands of cold percussive whacks. Though he despised the sensation of wet clothing much as he always had when they had to be out in the rain like this, he found that the tenderness of this moment was enough to warm him from within, wrapped around Laura as he was.

The assault only lasted a minute or two before the rain settled into a thoroughly ordinary afternoon shower.

“Do you smell it now?” she asked.

For what felt like the millionth time in the past hour, he inhaled deeply, this time through his nose, and he detected a new scent—sweet, pungent, wet, and soil, a fresh zing in his nostrils. He’d smelled something similar in the air after it had rained in Insomnia all his life, but it had never been this strong, this clean.

“Yes, what is that?” he asked.

“That’s ozone. That’s the smell of soil after the rain—the intoxicating scent of petrichor,” she replied. “Now tilt your head back and open your mouth,” she said softly as she finally looked up at him.

He did as she asked, tilting his head back and collecting a small mouthful and swallowing. The water was almost sharp, its flavor, and it tasted exactly like the scent of the trees and the rocks and the air he was currently breathing.

He felt her lean up, stretching her body so that her lips were nearly at his ear. “You’re drinking the clouds, Ignis. You’re tasting the sky,” she murmured, and the vibrations from her words tickled at the hairs in his ear, making him shiver.

Oh Astrals, if this was what she considered friendship, he didn’t think he was capable of surviving what she considered romance. As he looked down into her eyes, he wanted nothing more in that moment than to taste her as he’d just tasted the sky, but he hadn’t yet tested his hypothesis to his satisfaction. Now was not the time to be impetuous and cast everything aside on a reckless whim.

He decided his next move would be now, and it would be no more than what he’d done in the past combined with what he’d seen Gladio do. Still, his heart felt as though it was going to race out of his chest and sprint across the open field as he reached his left hand around and slowly, carefully brushed the backs of his knuckles against her cheek. She closed her eyes and inhaled at his touch, but the pleasant smile on her face remained. So far, so good.

Gazing down at her with so much tenderness that it was a wonder his body could contain it, and allowing his voice to go deep and husky, he said, “Words cannot fully express the gratitude and joy I’m experiencing for you sharing this with me.”

He brought the hand that was around her shoulders to the soaked hair plastered to the side of her head, gently tugging her to him, but doing so slowly enough that she had time to pull away should she wish it. As he brought her wet, cool forehead to his lips—the first time in his life he’d ever brought his lips to another person’s skin—he almost felt nauseated at how quickly his heart was beating in his chest, how violently the blood seemed to be rushing to his brain. He wanted to hyperventilate, but he forced his breath to hold steady as he pulled away and opened his eyes to hers.

Dazzling. They dazzled him—along with that smile that always seemed to grace her expression when she was looking at him. Surely, that couldn’t be a coincidence?

His breath began to fail him, however, as he felt her hand brush from his back to the other side of his head, pulling his face down toward hers just as slowly and gently as he had.

“It’s better with two, Ignis, always,” she whispered before touching her lips to his cheek.

As they sat together in that little patch of grass, soaking wet and a little chilled, Ignis was certain that he wanted to keep feeling this feeling for the rest of his life. Though it still terrified him so much that it hurt, he couldn’t help but think that if this feeling in his head and heart wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll sometimes stick a line or a phrase in from other fandoms . . . they're littered throughout the piece. For the bigger things, however, I feel I should give credit. So the "Make now always the most precious time" quote is from Star Trek TNG—a heartbreaking episode. The entire "turn of the planet" speech, much as I would LOVE to take credit for that, belongs to the venerable Russell T. Davies' era Doctor Who.


	23. Chapter 23

As soon as they left the chocobo post the next day, Ignis turned to Gladio in the passenger seat. “Of course I would understand if you have objections, Gladio, but would you mind terribly if we made a quick stop to see the Disc of Cauthess on our way to Lestallum? After all,” he said, reaching forward to wipe a speck of dust off the dashboard, “I’ve always wanted to see the meteor of legend.”

Gladio sighed, rubbing his face with his hand, and said, “Yeah, go ahead. I kinda figured this would happen anyway.”

Ignis frowned at Gladio’s tone. Knowing that the man had waited ten days since the Fall to see his sister, he should have brought up the idea for this silly little adventure of his for another day—should have realized that even a couple of hours’ delay would be more than an inconvenience. But frugality—saving time and petrol had been the first things on his mind when he’d spoken to Noct before they’d left. All this time spent out in the wild was clearly making him careless. He opened his mouth to take back the suggestion, but Gladio cut him off before he could speak.

“Naw, don’t do that. I can see it on your face, Iggy. You never ask to go anywhere. Iris can wait another couple of hours—as long as we get there today. Just talked to her this morning to tell her we’d be showin’ up, and she’s fine.”

“Are you certain you wouldn’t mind the delay?” he asked.

“It’s good, man. Not like I haven’t wanted to see the meteor too, you know. Who could turn down the opportunity to see a god in the flesh? I mean, besides the one we got in the back seat,” he replied with a grin and a thumb over his shoulder.

“Oh gods, not you too,” he heard Laura moan from behind him.

“Think he was talking about me, Laura,” Noct said, and Prompto nearly choked from giggling so hard.

“Heh, yeah, all hail the God of Sleepiness,” Gladio chuckled.

Once Prompto had recovered his breath, he said, “Well what’re we supposed to think? You’re immortal. You got all this power. You’re pretty much like the Six but with . . . I dunno, time and space or something.”

“Yeah, I get it. And you’re not the first. Just don’t start worshipping me, for frack’s sake. I’d hate to have to kick your asses after all we’ve been through. Plus, the statues people make when you’re a goddess are terribly unflattering. There was only one that I liked.”

“Don’t think you’re in any danger there,” Noct said. “I mean, you’ve seen how they treat me, right?”

“Yeah, well, we might start worshipping you if you’d learn to cut your own meat,” Gladio said.

“I’ve got a sword in the armiger that says I can cut my own meat just fine, thanks,” Noct said, leaning forward to punch Gladio on the shoulder.

Ignis cut into the conversation before it drifted too far from Laura’s last statement, as it so often seemed to before he could get a question in. “So you truly are worshipped as a goddess in some places?”

At his words, the cabin of the car grew silent—eerily silent, as they’d kept the top up today due to the inclement weather. He could practically feel the hesitation radiating from Laura and looked up into the rearview mirror to see it for himself. He couldn’t find her face, however, because she had just leaned forward between the seats.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, “but certainly without my permission. I told you; I don’t want that.”

Ignis glanced over, noting her troubled expression, and smiled to reassure her. “I was merely curious as to what appellations they may have given you.”

She took a few seconds to respond, likely to determine whether the “color of his mind,” as she called it, would indicate that he was about to pull the car over and genuflect at her feet. He would, of course, if she asked, even if her status had merely been that of mortal Queen, but then, the same could also be said of Noct. But as she’d stated only a second ago and several times before, any sort of worship or obedience from him was most certainly not what she wanted, and so he would do his best to be himself around her, despite the fact that every aspect of his upbringing screamed against the practice.

Of course, “himself” seemed to possess an appalling lack of manners as of late, including this intense curiosity that drove him to ask such impertinent questions about her history. He’d been allowing his curiosity, irritation, and amusement with her to reflect in his behavior, a practice which oddly seemed to delight her, and that release seemed to have affected his interactions with the others, as though he could no longer hold back the dam of the shockingly uncouth personality that was apparently lying in wait beneath his finely-honed gentility. He didn’t think the others had noticed yet, except perhaps Gladio, but he needed to be more careful in the future and keep that ill-bred savage well-chained until he was alone with her.

“Well, there’s a statue of me in the British Museum as the Goddess Fortuna, but I’m not certain that counts, as a friend made that to complete a time loop.” Ignis glanced at her again from the side of his eye and saw that wistful smile cross her face, as it so often did. “Still, I was ‘is Goddess Fortuna,” she said softly, “. . . tha’ or just ‘is lucky pants.”

“What,” he said flatly, shaking his head, somewhat bewildered at the sudden turn the conversation had taken toward undergarments.

She sighed and said, “I suppose information you’re looking for is the Goddess of Time, Bad Wolf, Avatar of Time, Mother Wolf, Sun Goddess, Golden Mother, Goddess of Life, the Rising Sun, Aurora, Goddess of the Dawn . . . a thousand names, all the same basic concept—the sun, which brings life and time. The wolf stuff’s just . . . incidental.”

“Well, you’re in luck, Princess,” Gladio said with a smirk. “We don’t got one of those here, so the position’s open if ya want it.”

“I’m not so sure about that . . . hang on, did you say in the flesh? You mean your gods actually walk around on the planet with you?”

“Uh, yeah. Sometimes,” Prompto said. “Like, Titan’s standing under that meteor in the Disc of Cauthess right now. Caught it falling outta the sky and saved the world!” He made a descending whistling and crashing sound to emphasize his point.

“Typically, however, the gods speak to us through divine messengers, which take on the appearance of humans or animals and walk the world doing their sacred duty,” Ignis said.

“That actually explains a lot about your attitude towards me, and why you were all less than horrified at my confession. This is a _thing_ on your world. Still . . ..” Ignis heard the odd tone in her voice and noted her look of disapproval before turning his gaze back to the road.

“Hey Ignis, can you pull over for a sec?” Noct asked.

“Certainly,” Ignis replied without question, waiting until he found a safe spot before pulling the Regalia off to the shoulder.

“Something wrong?” Gladio asked.

“I think someone needed help back there. Let’s go check it out.”

“Noct to the rescue!” Prompto said as he jumped out of the car, stretching his legs and drumming his hands against the roof.

“Take care not to dent the Regalia, if you please,” Ignis said quietly. He and Laura had only just cleaned the car inside and out the day before, and already there were fingerprints on the door handles and the roof above the doors.

The mint green Gaia they’d passed had crashed just off the road, clearly haven been driven there at a high speed before the driver’s forward momentum had been halted by one of the towering Duscaean Pines growing nearby. The crash couldn’t have occurred too long ago, as the back tires of the vehicle were still spinning and squealing, kicking up muck in the muddy ditches they had dug. As they approached the driver’s side window, Ignis saw a man from over the tops of Prompto’s, Noct’s, and Laura’s heads—mid-forties, balding, but with dark brown patches of hair on the sides. He was unconscious, his head lolled to the side against the window, a black bruise almost pulsating under the skin of his temple.

“We gotta help him!” Prompto cried out. “Get a potion.”

Noct summoned a potion and made to fling the door open, but Laura slapped a hand hard against the window.

“No!”

“We gotta help this guy before he dies!” Noct said, his voice rising in anxiety.

“Look at him, Noctis.”

“Yeah, he looks like he’s got a pretty bad concussion, which is why we gotta help him now before a potion won’t cure him,” Gladio said.

“A potion isn’t going to cure him.” She stared down at the unconscious man, her hand still spread across the window. “How did this happen? I didn’t know it was even possible. I’m sorry. I am _so_ sorry.”

Ignis moved in closer to determine what could have caused such a reaction, how she could possibly know that whatever was ailing the man couldn’t be cured with anything they had in their armiger, particularly since she was so unfamiliar with their healing magic.

“Pardon me,” he said to Prompto so he could more closely inspect the man. It was only then that he saw the distinct pattern of veining across the bruise on his temple, which wasn’t a bruise at all. That black patch was _literally_ pulsating with a seething, vicious beat. He’d seen photos and read descriptions of such symptoms in newspaper coverage several times—when Lady Lunafreya was performing her duties as Oracle.

“That’s Starscourge. Only the Oracle can heal him of that. He’ll soon disappear. Look. Already his hand seems to be turning to vapor,” he said, pointing to the man’s hand, which was releasing a gaseous purple substance into the air.

“ _That’s_ Starscourge?” Laura asked sharply, turning to him with burning, almost angry eyes.

He nodded. “We may be the first to actually witness a man disappear from the disease.”

“No, we _won’t_ ,” she said harshly. “Fuck!”

“I’ve learned from experience that it’s a very _bad_ thing indeed when you use that word,” he said, recalling that the last time she had said it, the consequences of the situation had reached nearly thirteen years back into his life.

“You don’t need to be a telepath to make the connection. Why has no one figured this out yet? Look at him! Where have you seen that black substance before?”

Ignis turned back to the man, inspecting first his temple, then his hand. There was something eerily familiar about the black and purple vapor, the way it seemed to float on the air and melt into the floorboards, the way it seemed to stain all it touched with ink as dark as the pits of hell he’d seen it in before. If he concentrated, he could almost feel the evil pouring from it, like a living entity unto itself.

“Every time a daemon appears or dies,” he replied. He did his best to keep the horror from the tone of his voice as he said, “Are you implying that people aren’t disappearing, they’re turning into daemons?”

“Shit. This is why we’ve seen so many abandoned cars on the side of the road,” Gladio realized. “It must happen fast once the symptoms start.”

“There’s no doubt that’s what’s happening; I can feel his mind transforming. And there’s nothing we can do for him. We can’t even open the door. I don’t know how Starscourge spreads, and I’m guessing you don’t either, or people wouldn’t be catching it.”

Ignis shook his head. “It wasn’t my area of expertise, but I’ve studied every report and paper written on the matter as extensively as possible; what research has been done on the scourge has yielded no actionable results. You’re right. He could be contagious in this halfway state, and we wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

The consequences of these conclusions were too horrible to imagine. All this time, they’d been killing former innocent subjects of the Crown? They’d had little choice, but what did that mean for the future population of Lucis, of Eos? If MTs were daemons, did that mean they were killing off formerly innocent humans from the Empire?

If the daemonization of the people and Starscourge were, in fact, one in the same, then another piece of the puzzle of Noct’s destiny had just been put in its place.

“So what do we do about this guy?” Noct asked.

“I think our way forward is pretty clear,” Laura said, her voice bleak as her fingers found their way to the pendant around her neck almost absent-mindedly. She regarded at each of them in turn. “Given the choice between being killed or becoming a daemon, which would you choose?”

“I’d rather die,” Gladio said without hesitation, and Noct and Prompto nodded in agreement.

Ignis stared into her anguished eyes and nodded sharply. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind which fate he would rather suffer. But how could they kill the man without opening the door? Perhaps her magic could pass through glass without breaking it.

Laura straightened her back and lifted her chin before turning to Noct. “Your Majesty,” she said, and Noct’s eyes shot open wide at her address. Ignis cast a glance at Gladio and Prompto, and he knew that his own face mirrored a similar expression of shock. “I formally request permission to euthanize one of your subjects, who has committed no crime, from the outside of this vehicle in order to safeguard the health of the King, His Sword-Sworn, and additional subjects of Lucis.”

At the formality of her address, Ignis saw Noct’s face grow hard and serious. It was a rare expression for the Prince, no . . ., the King, but it was moments like these that reminded Ignis that this young man would one day become a most capable king, that he was King Regis’s very competent son, destined for greatness.

“Will it put you at risk?” Noct asked.

“No. This requires no energy, and it will be as quick and painless as possible for him,” she replied.

But Ignis knew her too well. Before Noct could respond, he cut in, “And what about you? Will this be just as quick and painless for you?”

“Gods, you’re a pain in the ass,” she muttered on a sigh with almost a smile on her lips. “Physically, no, it won’t hurt me at all.”

And that was all she had to say, because Ignis knew from what she’d left out that it would hurt her emotionally. But then, they all did things every day that hurt them emotionally, almost without a thought these days, and this was something he couldn’t protect her from. He looked to Noct, who was watching him as though he knew exactly what had just happened and was waiting for his own opinion on the matter. Ignis nodded, and Noct shifted his gaze to Laura.

“You have my permission. Do it,” Noct commanded.

Laura nodded and turned back to the car, raising her glassy eyes to the sky before allowing them to fall closed, her jaw clenched tight. Whatever this was, it was clearly too agonizing for her to hide as she always did, and Ignis wondered at the full scope of what she’d just offered to do.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Ignis felt something glance against his wrist, and he looked down to see that she had reached out to grasp at the cuff of his jacket with two fingers, almost as though she hoped he wouldn’t notice. He twisted his hand so he could entwine his fingers with hers, hoping the others wouldn’t see this public display, but not truly caring if they did. He knew he’d done the right thing when he felt her fingers squeeze his tightly.

Her eyelids fluttered as she took in a small, shuddering breath, and Ignis’s gaze was directed to the man’s body when it went suddenly stiff, his eyes opening wide to show inky black sclera and muddy yellow irises. His foot must have slipped off the gas pedal, because the whine of the motor and the grinding of the back tires ceased as he relaxed and his eyes fell closed. Slowly, the purple and black swirls on his skin stopped pulsing and faded away as the miasma melted into the floorboards at his feet.

There were no words. There was no silver light. She had killed a man with merely a thought.

It was almost laughable now, thinking that he could have protected Noct with a mere dagger the day Insomnia fell and he had been uncertain of her loyalties. She could have killed them all that day without summoning a blade or even uttering a sound.

Laura opened her eyes and stared at Noct with a vacant expression. “We need to get out of here,” she said coldly.

Ignis gave her hand a final squeeze of support before letting go and turning toward the car.

“Thank you,” she whispered from beside him.

He glanced briefly in her direction before nodding. “You shouldn’t bear the burden alone. As you’ve been told before, this isn’t your war.”

“I don’t get it,” Prompto said as they all slid into their seats. “If it’s that easy to kill someone, why bother with the swords? Why not just kill everybody that way?”

Ignis closed his eyes for a moment before turning to see her reaction. The man’s innocence was charming most of the time, but in this case, he couldn’t have possibly said anything worse. Sure enough, the look on Laura’s face was restrained, likely for the sake of Prompto’s feelings, but he could see the agony in her eyes and the rigidity of her bearing.

“Because telepathic warfare in a world of apaths is an abomination,” she said in a dead voice. “Because I’m not a god.”

With those final, heavy words, the rest of the ride to Cauthess was spent in contemplative silence.

***

A heavy breeze floated in through the open window in the living room of their suite at the Leville, fluttering the white billowing curtains against the enormous couch that dominated the room. In the courtyard below the open windows and balcony, a group of musicians had begun to play an upbeat rhythm—completely at odds with the atmosphere in the room, and Ignis could hear a large group forming what would likely end up a block party by the end of the night.

He settled back in one of the black wingback armchairs across from the couch, crossing his legs and leaning on one of the wings with an outstretched elbow. Gladio stepped over the back of the other chair and fell into it, slouching as he rubbed at his stomach. While Prompto and Noct settled into their own couch cushions, Ignis watched Laura without trying to make it seem too obvious he was doing so.

She’d been almost completely silent since their encounter with the infected man, which was to be expected, but the elation that graced her expression every time they arrived somewhere new was absent, which had nagged at his thoughts all afternoon. He’d missed the way that luminescent smile would light up her face before she would disappear, only to return, tugging his hand to pull him off on some grand adventure she’d discovered. He vowed he’d find some way to return that light to her eyes tonight, even if only for a moment.

Not even the trip to the Disc had lightened the mood, as they had encountered an Imperial blockade at the site, a most troubling finding indeed. The Empire seemed to be setting up these blockades and bases at major sites around Lucis and waiting for . . . something; he knew not what. Ignis pulled out his list and made a note to contact the Marshal in the morning to inform him of this news. If the Marshal’s main task was to determine what the Empire was up to, perhaps he would be able to offer more insight.

“At least Luna’s okay,” Prompto said.

Noct fixated the floor. “Yeah,” he said in a small, choked voice.

Lady Iris had just left the suite to change for dinner, but she had been the one to greet them at the base of the stairs when they’d arrived at the Leville, lead them up to their suite, and apprise them of Insomnia’s status after the attack. Even if her vague descriptions left something to be desired in Ignis’s mind, he couldn’t help the surge of hope that bubbled in his chest when she’d mentioned that many of the outlying neighborhoods had made it through in one piece. He’d tried phoning his uncle twice in the last week, to no avail, so it seemed he would have to track down his parents manually when this was over. Still, at least there was a strong likelihood that they had survived the Fall.

She’d also informed them that Lady Lunafreya was not only alive, but had recently been in town. Though Ignis was sorely disappointed that Noct had missed the opportunity to connect with his bride, he was pleased to see that the Prince had been relieved of at least one source of grief. Lady Lunafreya, from what he’d seen and heard from media coverage, as well as the few glimpses into the diary Noct had allowed him, was an enormously kind, compassionate, and gentle woman, but Ignis knew from experience that public service roles such as hers demanded a will of steel. He was relieved to know that, not only for the sake of the future of their world but also for the sake goodness itself, such a woman had been spared in the Fall.

Noct sighed. “I just wanna relax tonight. Do something stupid and pointless. Feel like it’s been one thing after another lately.”

“Yeah,” Prompto agreed. “Let’s do something fun tonight!”

When Noct looked over at Ignis, he replied, “As you wish, Highness.”

Honestly, they should be checking in with anyone who would have hunts or errands available this evening, but he could hardly deny the Prince the desire to seek out more leisure time, as they’d all been through entirely too much in recent weeks. Their financial situation was stable due to their eagerness to assist whenever they arrived at a new settlement and Ignis’s insistence that they either camp at a haven, or, as a last resort, stay in a camper. But their stay here in Lestallum for the next several days would put a sizeable dent in that solvency. Tonight was likely a wash, as they would no doubt be eating out, but he resolved to ensure that they do so as little as possible for the rest of their time here.

Gladio stood from his chair. “D’you mind if we split up tonight? I wanna take Iris out to dinner alone and talk about some stuff.”

“It should be safe enough as long as we all stay well within the city limits,” Ignis replied, casting a stern glance at Noct, who raised his hands.

“Hey, I’ve had enough trouble. I’ll behave, I swear.”

“See that you do. I’m gonna go pick up Iris. See you guys later.” Gladio gave a small, two-fingered salute before heading out the door.

“Hey, Noct! Wanna go check out the arcade we saw? Sure it’s nothing like the one back home, but it’s been forever since we got some _real_ game on!”

“Hell yeah!” Noct replied, jumping off the couch and heading toward the door, Prompto following right behind.

Ignis didn’t really consider a night at the arcade the best way to unwind. He had spent many an evening at Noct’s preferred arcade back in Insomnia and merely tolerated the flashing lights and loud noises for the Prince’s sake. Still, if that was what Noct wanted to do this evening . . .. He made to stand and follow them, but Noct turned around.

“No way. I know you hate the arcade, Specs. You and Laura can go find a bookstore and fight about . . . I dunno, metaphysics—or whatever you guys do for fun.” He leaned in close to Ignis’s ear and said more quietly, “Just get that look off her face.”

For once, it seemed that his and Noct’s goals were one in the same, and though he would normally protest the Prince’s offer of yet more leisure time, he _had_ just been given a direct order to accomplish the very objective he had in mind this evening.

“I’m only too happy to oblige, Highness,” he said with a nod.

Noct grinned and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Yeah, you poor thing.” Then, in a louder voice, he said, “See you guys later,” before turning toward the door with Prompto, throwing a casual wave over his shoulder.

As soon as the door had closed, he turned to study Laura, who had shifted to the side and was staring out the window behind her. “I hope you didn’t think that I meant you were obligated to spend the evening with me. I’m not exactly known for being the life of the party,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. Command or no, he’d give her the choice to spend time with him, just as she’d always done for him. If she refused, he could still do his duty by finding some other way to get that look off her face—perhaps by cooking supper for her.

“But, if you’re interested,” he continued, “we could perhaps find something to do.”

She turned her gaze away from the window and gave him a slow, close-lipped smile, and for a moment, it almost seemed to reach her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know very well I’d love to spend the evening with you. Did you have anything particular in mind?”

“I imagine dinner should be involved, at some point, and I did find one place in my research with a good reputation that sells vegetarian fare. Or I could cook for us, if you would prefer a greater variety of options.”

“You’ll most certainly do no such thing,” she replied immediately, heat leaking into her expression. “Your cooking is wonderful, but you need a night off too. We’re going to eat out just like everyone else, and then . . .,” she glanced out the window briefly, taking a deep breath before turning back to him, and her entire face had, for some astrals-unknown reason, transformed into a wide, bright smile. Apparently, his mission was already complete this evening, and he hadn’t even done a thing. “. . . then you’re going to let me help you with combat.”

He had expected her to say something mad, as usual. Perhaps, ‘and then we’re going to dance with the talking trees in the main square’ or ‘and then we’re going to fling ourselves off the Overlook to be caught by a magical, flying spiracorn and taken on a tour of Eos,’ but he supposed this was close enough, as it was just as expected in its unexpectedness, if a bit mundane—though he doubted it would end up being so by the end of the evening. Heavens, how she always managed to tie his mind in knots.

“Are you certain that’s what you want to do this evening?”

“If it’s all right with you,” she said quietly.

To be honest, it wasn’t what he would have planned for himself had he found the time for a relaxing evening, but he would do anything if it brought that smile back to her face. And it wasn’t as though he wouldn’t end up having some sort of life changing experience before the evening was out, he was certain.

“Yes, of course it’s all right,” he replied.

“Give me a moment to get changed, and we can go,” she said, standing and heading to the door that led to the kitchenette and the bedroom.

He inspected her Glaive uniform. “What you’re wearing now is perfectly acceptable for dinner in a small city such as this, and is of course, suitable for sparring.”

When she stopped and turned to him, he had to snap his mouth shut at the expression on her face, as her lowered head and raised eyes full of fire could only be described as predatory. And he knew. Indeed, somehow, without even leaving their room, it appeared as though she already had come up with some secret plan for him. She must have been lying to flatter him the other day in the Regalia, when she’d said she wasn’t a strategist, as this was beyond any skill of stratagem he’d ever possessed. He, after all, had done research beforehand on the city and hadn’t had a plan beyond their meal and perhaps a few shops they both might’ve found intriguing.

“Not for what I have in mind.” She started to turn back to open the door, but stopped, looking him up and down. He wanted to fidget under her scrutiny, but held himself in check, thrusting his chin level, displaying a strong posture, and holding his gaze neutral.

“Lose the jacket and gloves,” she said with a crooked smirk and a wicked expression. “It’s hot.”

Leaving him to ponder the possibility of the double meaning of her words, she turned and went through the door. He supposed it _was_ rather warm out that evening. It had finally stopped raining, so the air was thick with humidity—almost to the point where he felt as though he were walking through the steam room at the Crownsguard training center in the Citadel. Though he would likely still be sweltering in this heat, he decided to follow her advice and remove his jacket and gloves, rolling up his sleeves while he thought about whether he would attempt another step with her this evening.

His audacity with her so far had paid off, or so he’d thought, but when he considered that any additional moves forward on his part would leave him adrift in uncharted territory, he realized that he hadn’t yet been truly audacious at all. And with that thought, all the careful cultivation of education his tutors had instilled in him came crashing back into his mind with a clamorous cacophony—what was he doing? How _dare_ he even consider pursuing her? All his triumphs thus far, if he were honest with himself, had been no more than what the others had so casually done with her, and they’d been just as happily accepted. So what made him think that he was so special as to dare to ask for more?

And it wasn’t just the unworthiness that nagged at him. Ignis knew that he wasn’t completely unfortunate looking, but he was too thin, pale, and bookish. He lacked the dramatic dark coloring of Lucian nobility that made being pale a desirable trait—coloring that Laura herself had despite not even being of this world. His entire life, he had tried his best to compensate for his appearance by ensuring he was always as well put together as possible, but there was only so much good style could compensate for. It seemed all of Insomnia thought him unattractive, even if not hopelessly so, as evidenced by the fact that many of the Crownsguard and even his own closest friends had seen fit to make light of his inadequacies.

If he pretended for a moment that this was heading in the direction his darkest dreams were hoping for, where would it lead? Did he really expect her to bed him? A vision shimmered in his mind of her beneath him, skin bared, head thrown back, and mouth open in a gasp as he moved over her, but _gods_ no, he had to shove that image away before he could even fully grasp its contents. Clearly, his sex drive wasn’t as non-existent as he’d always thought—merely lying dormant and waiting for the right person to set it alight. Regardless, _that_ would involve exposing far too much of himself both physically and otherwise, not that he wouldn’t be willing to, because gods damnit he loved her, but she _surely_ wouldn’t want him for all he was and wasn’t.

And yet . . . that light in her eyes, the warmth in her gaze when she looked at him, how it always seemed to be him and not one of the others she would sweep off on a grand adventure . . ..

_Let go. Just let go._

It seemed his head was wrestling his heart tonight, and since his mind was still tied in knots, he didn’t know which would wind up winning the contest. 

When she reappeared a few minutes later, he didn’t even attempt to conceal the shock that settled over his features, allowing his eyes to widen and his mouth to drop open—just a little. That oh-so-familiar feeling of dread laced with anticipation coiled in his belly at her unexpected wardrobe change and what it might mean for him.

Gathering his wits, he cleared his throat before saying in a lofty tone, “I seemed to have neglected some important detail in this plan of yours. I thought we were eating and then sparring.”

She had let her hair down so that it hung down to her elbows in ebony waves, and the tips brushed against her arms as she lowered her head a little to give him that mysterious smile of hers from underneath her lashes. Her top, if it could be given so generous a name, was a vibrant scarlet that fell off her shoulders, leaving her arms and delicate collarbones bare, and ended just below her bosom. The matching skirt that sat tantalizingly low on her hips seemed to flutter and sigh down to her feet as the breeze from the window tugged at it, and as she stepped toward him, it floated on the air in such a way that she appeared to be hovering over the wood floor rather than standing like a mere mortal.

What made Ignis feel the need to swallow however, was the expanse of bare skin that lay between the two garments—royally alabaster and luminous and so very femininely curved—a masterpiece sculpture made flesh. The part of his mind that was placing wagers on his heart to win out was glad for the eschewance of his gloves this evening, because it would be a sin committed against the gods not to run his hands over such a divine piece of art.

“Yep, that’s the plan. Let’s go,” she said, breaking the spell she’d cast on him and taking his limp, bloodless hand in hers to lead him out the door.

Surgate's Beanmine overlooked the main square of Lestallum, which was infuriatingly crooked, but bustling with activity—with men pushing clattering, rickety carts back and forth over the uneven cobblestones and calling out their wares; women getting off from their shifts at the power plant and unzipping their suits to reveal garments that, frankly, made Laura’s seem modest; and that seemingly ever-present soundtrack of cheerful guitars and brass instruments. As they paid for their meal and sat down at a red-checked table with their food, Ignis sat back for a moment, enjoying the more familiar feeling of being in a city, even if it was nowhere close to the size of even a district in Insomnia.

He utilized the moment of comfortable silence between them to calm his mind by taking several bites of his bird-broth rice with curry—analyzing the exotic spices they used in this region and comparing the flavor profile against the repertoire of his recipes for new combinations of flavors.

“That’s it!” he ejected suddenly before he could stop himself.

“What’s it?” Laura asked.

He felt his cheeks warm a little as he answered more quietly, “Apologies, I’ve just come up with a new recipe.”

As he summoned his notebook and pulled out his fountain pen to take notes, he heard her say, “Oh yeah? From your meal, or something else? Tell me about it.”

When he had finished writing, he blinked up at her in surprise. The others usually humored his habit of creating recipes in the strangest of circumstances, offering to do him the favor of tasting his new creations, but no one had ever asked for more information.

“I was thinking the Leiden pepper in this would pair well with daggerquill breast and Saxham rice.”

“I could see that working well,” she said with a nod. “Like a spicy chicken sort of dish. I bet Prom will love it. He goes nuts for all the spicy things you make. Good idea.”

“Indeed,” he said, looking back down at his notebook. They would have to pick up more rice soon.

When he looked up at Laura again, he decided it was time to have the conversation he’d been dreading for days now. He knew his combat skills were somewhat lacking; he was hardly the best fighter in the Crownsguard before the Fall, and he was well aware that he tended to get injured more than anyone else in their group, even more than Prompto. This discussion needed to be had, and it was going to be unpleasant no matter how it went, so he decided to get it out of the way early in the evening, when there was still time before they had to go back to the Leville to turn circumstances around afterward.

“So. We’re alone now. Would you care to inform me exactly what is lacking in my combat technique that I need assistance with?”

She grimaced into her soup for a moment before answering. “Offense wise, there isn’t much for me to teach you. You’re deadly and swift with your weapons, and you know it. It’s actually quite beautiful to watch—” she began, but he cut her off.

“There’s no need to stroke my ego, I assure you. I can handle the truth without the cushion of flattery.” Surely someone who abhorred coddling as much as she would understand his annoyance at her indirect response.

He seemed to have sparked her irritation with his words, because that fire in her eyes kindled as she glared at him.

“Let’s get one thing straight right now. I don’t do false praise. It undermines the veracity of my word in the future and wastes both our time. But if you’d rather me cut to the chase, fine. For the most part, Noctis and Gladio were correct. Your mind is stunning, Ignis, it really is, but you let it rule you far too much in situations where it slows you down. And there are senses you’re not using to their full potential, including a sense that’s common among my people but exceedingly scarce among humans, especially when paired with a mind like yours. If you let me, I can teach you to fight as I do, nearly.”

Her words were certainly enough to distract him from the disappointment that Noct and Gladio had, in fact, been completely correct. Had she worded her speech to distract him deliberately? He decided the conversation would likely go more pleasantly if he took her bait.

“And what senses are those?”

“Well, the five senses you know you have are unbalanced. Should you decide to go this route, we would work to correct that. But the sense I don’t see you using at all is your literal sixth sense. You have Intuition, Ignis, the kind they write with a capital letter. And it’s what would allow me to teach you how to fight like my people did—again, only if you wish.”

He replied incredulously, “How could I possibly turn down such an offer, knowing what likely lies in store for us?”

“I’m not going to lie; it will probably be the most difficult thing you’ve ever learned. What I’ll be asking of you goes against how human minds are programmed to think their entire lives, and you seem especially entrenched in it. The technique may take you a while to even begin grasping properly. I need you to not get frustrated or self-conscious and keep up with it. Are you in?”

While he appreciated her giving him the choice to decline, in his mind, there was no choice to be made. “Well, you’ve certainly thrown down quite the gauntlet. Your challenge is accepted,” he replied with a slight bow of his head.

The tip of her tongue poked out to touch the top row of her teeth, one of his favorite smiles of hers, though it still seemed an odd expression on her face.

“Very well then, we’ll start after we’re finished eating.”

Ignis let his gaze wander over her bare collarbones, and, ever so briefly to the swell of her breasts pressed up close to her body by her undergarments.

“You truly plan on engaging in mock battle . . . wearing that?” he asked, raising a single eyebrow.

Again, her gaze turned wicked as she replied, “I didn’t say it wouldn’t all be fun. You’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”

Trying not to imagine how she planned on combining combat, one of her wondrous adventures, and _that_ outfit, he decided to relax into her plans now that the unpleasant conversation was behind them. It hadn’t gone as badly as he’d expected, and he’d come out of it relatively unscathed with what sounded like a momentous goal and an impossibly valuable reward ahead. He didn’t know what she’d meant by “Intuition,” but he knew he would most certainly be well familiar with the concept by the time she’d finished with him.  

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” she asked, noting how his gaze wandered around the busy square as he thought, “Being around all these people. They seem so happy going about their lives.”

“Indeed, even if the cacophony takes some getting used to again after the weeks of silence, but it makes me worry for what will happen to centers of population like this when matters escalate.”

She hummed in response before replying, “That’s how I saw the world when I first discovered my time sense. Don’t do that. You’ll see nothing but darkness.” She surveyed the people surrounding them—shopping and laughing and eating as though they hadn’t a care in the world, as though their capital city hadn’t just fallen ten days previous, and as though they weren’t currently under the rule of an empire that hadn’t yet made its intentions clear for its new populace.

“I see this place as a beacon,” she continued, “a bastion of light stemming the tide of darkness that looms beyond its borders. The audacity it takes to be this full of hope in darkness so utterly complete? Humans, for all their faults and short lifespans, live life so fully, squeezing it all in with passion and love, rage and pain. It’s beautiful.” She shook her head. “You people will never stop inspiring me.”

Ignis was never certain how to respond to her when she commented on his species like this, accentuating the vast differences between them. But it was her differences that intrigued him, her differences that had made him want to take a step out closer to the ledge he was still considering leaping from, had already partially leapt from. He couldn’t believe he’d neglected to ask her these questions the other day, but she’d swept him off his feet so swiftly and so completely that he’d forgotten.

“May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You said two things to Prompto the other day that intrigued me. Two physical forms?”

“Three, actually,” she responded with a nod, “though I can no longer take my first form. As I said, my people evolved to blend in with humans, so on the rare occasion that we had offspring, they had a human adolescent form to protect them. You should have seen mine,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “I was dirty blonde and brown-eyed and completely unrecognizable from what I look like now.”

“I see, and I assume this is the human form of your two remaining,” he said with a gesture to her.

Laura looked down and began playing with her soup, swirling the tip of the spoon and watching the different ingredients rise to the top before falling again.

“Sort of. When I was twenty-six, I . . . molted, if you will, into my adult form, though that word hardly describes the trauma of the experience. I had spent all that time believing I was human and had no idea what was happening to me.”

He tried to imagine that happening to him—with no warning, having something as foundational as his species being ripped away from him. “You must have been so frightened.”

“Yes. And underneath was my Lliamérian form. My mum was human, but her memories had been altered so that she believed she and my dad were my biological parents.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “You would’ve figured it out immediately, I’m sure. Both of them had blue eyes.”

“It’s not completely impossible, but certainly unlikely,” he replied with a frown. “At least one of them would’ve had to have brown eyes in order for you to have them, or at least a weak form of the allele that produces brown eyes.”

“See what I mean?” she chuckled. “Not even my fiancé made the connection, and he was very well-versed in genetics and alien lifeforms; he himself was only half-human. But he’d never encountered my species—didn’t have a clue what I was, and we were stuck on a xenophobic planet where aliens were just fiction to the general populace. We went into hiding for over twenty years; it took us that long to understand enough about my physiology to learn I could even take a human form.”

His thoughts stuttered for a moment at her mention of being affianced. “What happened to your fiancé, if you don’t mind my asking? Are you still betrothed?”

Though he asked the question as casually as he possibly could manage, she narrowed her eyes a little at him before speaking as though she knew exactly what he wanted to know.

“Doctor James Noble, or just the Doctor, which was his real name. We married, spent almost a hundred years together, but he was mortal. Lliamérians aren’t. He’s been dead for thousands of years now, for me,” she said quietly.

“Forgive me. I shouldn’t have asked,” he responded in an equally low voice, ashamed that he had injured her in his selfish quest for information on her availability. It seemed as though that brute chained beneath his manners was making an appearance tonight as well.

He tried to imagine what life would be like in her situation, an immortal surrounded by mortals, with no peer to turn to. This picture of her existence sounded so desperately lonely—a feeling he was well-familiar with, and he wondered if she had recognized it in him immediately because of her own familiarity with it.

She shook her head and reached out to put her hand over his, and he turned his palm up to grasp her fingers without a thought. “I may not be forthcoming with every detail of my life, but you should always feel free to ask me what’s on your mind. I promise to tell you if I can.”

She may come to regret making him that offer one day, as he never seemed to tire of asking her questions. “Earlier, you said, ‘sort of.’ Is this not your human form?”

It seemed that it took no time at all for her to regret her offer, because she almost seemed uncomfortable when she studied her lap and answered, “As I said, sort of. The appearance is human so I can blend in with you all, but my internal physiology is Lliamérian because it’s sturdier, along with a couple of other species . . . as always, long story. Just had to be careful about not bleeding in front of you guys or keep you from noticing both my hearts beating until you knew what I was. But in my true form? You would still recognize me if you saw me, I think. I hope.”

When her eyes met his again, Ignis was able to identify the emotion immediately, even if he couldn’t fathom the reason for it, because it was a feeling he was well familiar with in all his interactions with her: vulnerability. There was something about this that made her feel self-conscious. Was she perhaps worried he wouldn’t accept her for what she was? The next question drifting from his brain to his mouth might reassure her.

“Would that be something I could see someday?”

The brief smile she gave him before she answered indicated that he’d been correct—for once. “I won’t say never, but I can’t imagine a scenario in which it would be feasible. It takes a tremendous amount of time and energy to transform. I can’t just jump back and forth.”

He was disappointed for a moment before he thought of the other subject he wanted to ask her about. “Rose,” he said in a low voice, and as he expected, her eyes widened a fraction. “You also mentioned you had two names. Your second name was Rose, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said. “Rose Tyler. It was all I could think of when I gave it to you that day. I haven’t used it in lifetimes.”

“Does it cause you pain for me to use it?”

“No. It was a good name, a good life. I like to hear you say it,” she said, smiling coyly.

“I enjoy saying it. Rose . . .,” he said, attempting to add a seductive tone to his voice, but Astrals only knew if he was successful.

At the sound of her name from his lips, her eyes fell closed, and she inhaled deep and slow with the most peaceful expression on her face. She almost seemed to shiver, and he wondered at his ability to affect her so. Was there even the slightest possibility that she felt the same as he did for her? It seemed impossible.

The moment she opened her eyes to him again, however, Ignis knew from her expression that it was time. She jumped up from her chair, though he noted that she took the time to tuck it in before shuffling to where he sat, and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet.

“Come on!” she exclaimed, using her foot to push his own chair into place before stepping in close and looking up at him, her eyes sparkling and her smile full of laughter. “Ignis,” she whispered, the sound betraying that she was about to explode with merriment. “Run!”

With that final vague command, she whirled, her hair and skirt kicking up in her momentum, and took off. Bewildered as always, he chased after her. They ran through the streets of Lestallum, with her ducking behind corners, catching his eyes, and laughing. But she was nearly a half a foot smaller and so much faster than he, so he was forced to squeeze his way through the crowds, brushing up against sweaty inhabitants with an “I beg your pardon,” hurtling over fallen stacks of crates, or leaping over ill-placed metal drums. She seemed to be searching for something as she raced through the marketplace, dancing her way like a flickering flame through a throng of youths clearly on the lookout for a good time, but he was too busy attempting to catch up to her to garner any clues as to what she may be hunting for.

Now where had she gone off to? He spun in a circle at an intersection in the market, searching. Honestly, if she weren’t finally enjoying herself so, he might have been irritated. His sharp eyes caught a flash of scarlet fabric slinking fluidly among the grey-blue buildings, drifting around a corner, and he followed it to a narrow alley with a long set of stairs leading toward the power plant.    

“What on Eos do you think you’re doing, you madwoman?!” he demanded when he finally caught up with her. She wasn’t even looking in his direction as he said it, instead choosing to brush her hand on a nearby wall and crane her neck so she could see around the corner into a walkway that led to the power plant courtyard, which was packed with dancing couples.

At his admittedly appalling outburst, to his surprise, she turned to him, placing both her hands on his chest and walking him up against the wall.

“Lesson one,” she said. “If you find yourself on an adventure, and it isn’t life threatening, _stop thinking_. You might find you enjoy it.”

Yes, little did she know he was already beginning to learn that lesson, and look where it had gotten him—alone in a deserted dark alleyway with a beautiful woman pressing him against a wall, and by the gods he wanted to spin her around and be the one to push _her_ somewhere for once.

He wanted to hear more about what she had to say about the matter, though. Perhaps she’d make a case for his heart to win over his head tonight, as it already sounded as though she was, so he feigned ignorance.

“What on Eos are you on about?”

She took her hands off him and took a small step back, her eyes sparkling. “Do you hear the music, Ignis?”

Of course he could [hear the music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kdhTodxH7Gw), but she was likely wanting him to hear the life next, so he listened more closely. It would seem that another block party had begun in the courtyard in front of the power plant, with guitars providing a percussive beat, heavy and relentless as the heat of the night air, below a violin that seemed to sing its heart into the night. The revelers in the courtyard were stomping their feet, clapping their hands, and beating tambourines in time to the music. It echoed off the high walls of the deserted alley and over the stone steps, and if he wasn’t careful, he could see the possibility of the music infecting his blood—or perhaps it was just her making his heart beat too quickly again.

He attempted to swallow that familiar feeling of dread and anticipation as he answered, “Yes,” but his voice had no strength behind it.

Laura leaned into him again and said in a low, sultry voice, dripping with heat near his ear, “Dance with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's Doctor Who statue reference might be a little less familiar, as it's from one of the books, The Stone Rose. It's narrated by the incredible David Tennant, so you should listen to it if you're into that.
> 
> See the link in the piece above for the music for this chapter and the next. There were a couple of changes made in the story, as I doubt they had a piano in the courtyard, and guitars fit better with the location. Imagery for Laura's skirt was also taken from this video.


	24. Chapter 24

Those hypnotic viridian eyes widened as he shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Oh. You don’t know how to dance?” she asked. That was surprising. She would have thought a royal chamberlain would know only too well how to dance. Still, with the way he moved in battle, the way he moved in general, she could probably work with that.

But he seemed offended by the very notion of her sincere question as he straightened to his fullest height and looked down his glasses at her. “I am the Prince’s Chamberlain, Senior Advisor to the future King. I was required to attend more social functions than any other person in the kingdom, thank you. Of course I know how to dance.”

“So what’s the issue then?” she replied with a smirk and a hint of a challenge in her expression. “We’re around the corner; no one is watching. And I promise, this very much pertains to my interest in keeping you alive in battle.” She ran her fingertips down his forearms and grasped at his hands, and he hesitated a moment before nodding.

“All right then,” he said, but his mind had started out with that confliction that always confused the hell out of her, as though he both disliked and anticipated what was happening to him, before settling into anticipation. It gave her pause. She wasn’t the only dichotomous creature of the two of them, and it was still difficult for her to tell when he was just going along with her and when he truly wanted to experience something outside his comfort zone. The anticipation, wonder, and attraction always won out, however, which was the only reason why she was still even attempting to move forward with this seduction.

It might not have been on top of a spaceship in 1941, but Jack Harkness still would’ve been proud—probably jealous as hell, too.

“Close your eyes,” she said after waiting a moment for his mind to settle. When he had done so, she placed his hands on her waist so that his thumbs rested over her hipbones and his long fingers were laid across the top of her skirt. She had to pause again for a moment, inhaling at the feeling of his large, warm hands on her hips and his thumbprints pressing firmly into her skin. His spicy, smoky scent washed over her, and the masculinity of it made her feel like a teenager again, weak-kneed and breathless.

His thumbs twitched at the feel of her skin under them, rubbing across her hipbones, and he froze, his lips parting to inhale along with her. But in that moment, she saw the tension tighten his expression as well as the visage of his mind.

This was why she hadn’t been more aggressive in her pursuit of him, right here. She knew he was attracted to her almost as much as she was to him, but their relationship was in very real danger of becoming a romantic version of what he and Noctis had if she wasn’t very, very careful from the beginning—a twisted combination of lover and servant-slash-acolyte. God, she didn’t want anything like that from him. He would probably always see her as a goddess because of the way mortals tended to see the world, but if it was all possible, she’d much rather him see her as a woman who happened to be immortal. At the very least, she wanted to make it absolutely clear that she was not to be obeyed or worshipped in any fashion other than the way two lovers were supposed to worship each other, as equals.

Honestly, Ignis didn’t need to be worshipping anyone at all. If anything, the entire planet should be falling at his feet to recognize such a beautiful soul. She certainly would, if she knew he wouldn’t be horrified by the gesture. Perhaps she could convince him to at least allow her to spoil him rotten.

It was an angry, cruel multiverse out there, she knew from experience, and his tender heart, so eager to serve and be loved, could be manipulated by a vicious aristocrat as well as a benevolent lover if he chose not to also apply that mithril will and formidable intelligence of his. But Ignis was a grown man, with his own agency that commanded respect for his ability to make his own decisions. She didn’t want to insult his intelligence and do him the disservice of treating him as a child.

As with all things, it was a delicate balance. She’d flirt with him as hard as she could to let him know that she wanted him, but the ultimate choice needed to be _completely_ his. All she needed from him was one sign that he wanted this too—something more than just agreeing to her persuasion.

But in this moment, with that tension on his face, as much as she wanted to do this with him, for him, there were more legitimate ways to accomplish this first lesson, and she had to offer him an out.

“Hey,” she said gently. “Look at me.”

His brow furrowed as he opened his eyes and glared at her. That irritation was encouraging, at least, and she had to suppress the desire to smile, lest he think she was patronizing him.

“Well, which is it? I cannot simultaneously close my eyes and look at you.”

“Do you not want to do this? Because we can go—no hard feelings whatsoever, I promise. I’ll start teaching you tomorrow, and tonight we can take a walk, get dessert, read a book, or pick a fight with a man named Moose if that’s what you want.”

Too late, she realized he probably wouldn’t understand the full meaning behind her lame attempt at humor if he didn’t know what a moose was, but he let out a helpless, undignified giggle regardless. She removed his left hand from her hip and twisted her arm around his, entwining their hands—a reminder. The choice was _always_ his.

“Remember? Freely and unreservedly.”

He blinked, his green gaze locking with hers in understanding. “I would,” he stuttered, squeezing her hand. “Yes, I would dance with you. It’s just that,” his eyes darted to the couples around the corner locked in various positions of embrace before his face grew flush and he looked down between them, “I’ve not danced with a woman like _that_ before.”

His double entendre didn’t surprise her in the least. Of course he’d been too busy to have a social life while playing manservant, strategist, and chamberlain for the chosen King. Even out here, away from all the paperwork that went with a bureaucracy, and even with her help, he always found ways to keep himself busy late into the night. Ignis hardly seemed the sort to go for casual encounters, and what steady lover would be able to handle the fact that the Prince would always come first? Who did that leave him with?

She chose her next words carefully so that they would still fit in the context of his double entendre. Placing his hand back on her hip and leaning into him again, she said gently, “That’s all right, you know, and it’s understandable. Your entire life has been so much about duty that you haven’t gotten a chance to live it. But living and doing one’s duty don’t have to be mutually exclusive. And anyway, I don’t agree to spend time with a man because of his dancing ability. A man can always learn to dance if he wants. I agreed to spend time with _you_ because I enjoy your company.”

As his eyes shot to hers, his expression darkening and his mind prickling frantically at some undiscernible thought, she decided that she’d been too forward, so she stepped it back a little.

“Besides,” she continued more brightly, “the entire point of this outing was to teach you to dance my way. I bet you have plenty of experience leading a waltz, and I bet you’re amazing at it, but you also need balance—to learn to follow, respond with instinct, exercise that Intuition of yours.”

He cleared his throat before responding, “I could always hold my own in a waltz, but my body isn’t really built for dancing. It’s too awkward.”

She scoffed at him, wondering who on Eos would ever be stupid enough to tell a man like Ignis that he was awkward. She was certainly going to do her damnedest to ensure that he knew she thought otherwise.

“Rubbish. Your body is beautiful and built well for dancing. Not sure where you even got that from.”

Those emerald eyes of his grew wide at her words as the blush deepened across his pale cheeks, all the way up to his ears, and down his neck. He swallowed, and she watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed with the movement. For Laura, it was like one of those moments sitting in a quiet, crowded library, suddenly looking up, and wondering just what would happen if she jumped on the table and screamed aloud that she preferred Verne over Melville any day before doing a tap dance number. What would anyone do about it? What would he do if she leaned up on her toes and licked that elegant throat of his?

_No. Focus._

“Here,” she said as conjured a flask and, unscrewing the cap, handed to him. “Take a sip of this, if you want, but just a sip. The point is to get you to relax a little, not impede your judgment. You’re going to need coordination for this next part, and I’m not going to take it easy on you just because I like you.”

Removing only one hand from her waist, he took the flask from her, swirled it around, buried his nose deep into the mouth, and inhaled. Only after he had pulled away and contemplated the scent did he take a measured sip.

“This is exceptional,” he said, tilting the flask to examine the liquid through the unbreakable Thelassian crystal. “The nose is woody, with dried redberry, leather, and Rydiellen oak, but the palate is surprisingly sweet with a lingering finish. Shame about the color though. What sort of a whiskey is this?”

“It is green,” she said with a smirk but a brief wave of mourning, as always. “Sorry. It’s Aldebaran whiskey. So, an advanced drinker, are we?”

Ignis was clearly a brave man, tilting his head, exposing that inhumanly appealing neck and jawline of his, and quirking his lips into a crooked smile—especially when her lips were so close to him.

“I am a man of many hidden talents.”

 _There you are, you cocky bastard,_ she thought to herself, still unsure of how she’d managed to unearth him. _I’ve been looking for you._

“Mmm, I’m well aware of that already, but let’s see what other talents of yours we can reveal,” she replied, taking the flask from him, taking a sip of her own, replacing the cap, and dismissing it. His hand returned immediately to where she’d placed it on her hip of its own accord, and her own cheeks flushed at the thought of what that might mean.

“By all means, please, lead on,” he said.

“This first part’s easy. All you have to do is stand there. Close your eyes again.” When he did, she placed just enough space between them so that she could move. Taking tiny steps, she began to sway her hips to the pulsing beat of the music.

“Feel me move beneath your hands,” she said, and the flush on his skin grew an even deeper scarlet as her own hearts quickened. God, even she wasn’t immune to the sensuality of her own words. “My muscles indicate which way I’m going to move a split second before they do. Do you feel it?”

He swallowed and nodded.

“And it’s not just touch that gives you information. Listen to the shift of my clothes, the sound of my feet on the stone; even the way the sound echoes off the walls gives you information about your surroundings. My scent strengthens when I am closer to you, weakens when I pull away. Your palate may even be sensitive enough to taste me on the air as you breathe in. Are you getting all this?”

Of course, there were about a thousand other sources he would have to learn to detect in order to perfect this technique, a million other sources of sensory input she herself was currently taking in and decidedly not analyzing, but they had to start somewhere.

He took a deep breath in through his nose and nodded. “I believe so.”

“Now, try to keep all that in mind as you get off that wall and step with me. But keep your eyes closed.”

“I’ll need to see where I’m going,” he protested.

“No you won’t. I’m leading, remember? I won’t let you run into anything. Trust me.”

“I do,” he said so immediately and so quietly that she wondered if she was meant to even hear it. But she did, and oh, Ignis—the tidal wave of aching affection and tenderness and even fear at those words that washed over her was almost too much to take. She had to close her eyes for a brief moment to collect herself before she could move on.

She began leading him slowly around the alley, undulating to the heavy beat and exaggerating her movements so that he could feel her intentions beneath his palms. Even with the obstacle of having his eyes closed, his posture was pulled as perfectly and elegantly straight and strong as any professional ballroom dancer—towering over her as she guided them across the landing between the stairs in time to the percussive rhythm set by the guitars.

It was slow going, but she was eventually able to pick up the pace as he grew accustomed to the messages her hips were sending his hands. He was doing well for this being his first time, and she told him so. Still, she had stepped on his feet several times when he didn’t react in time, or his movements would stutter as he made to move in the opposite direction she had stepped. His mind showed his frustration with his imperfection at the task and his directive to keep his eyes closed, despite her praise, but he didn’t say a word besides “apologies” as they moved together.

“All right,” she said after it had been a while since he’d made a mistake and the musicians had restarted the song. What was it about the musicians here only playing one song for hours on end, anyway? “It’s about to get more difficult. Open your eyes.”

The black of his pupils had overtaken the viridian while his eyes had been closed, and she had to hold back her inhalation when his long lashes raised slowly to reveal them. They stood there for a moment, staring at each other as she searched his face for some clue as to what he could be thinking, but all she could feel was that tingling breathlessness whenever she was close to him.

“Now, use what you’ve learned in conjunction with your vision, but don’t rely on it solely. Take in all that information, turn your mind off, and watch me with your entire body, not just your eyes. Move opposite me. Use your instincts to determine whether you should lead or follow. Feel.” 

He had been mostly silent up until this point, so it was no surprise when he merely nodded at her new instruction.

Though she despised the concept of bullfights, there was something so very apropos about the music she’d managed to find tonight and the dance she’d decided to pair with it. The pasodoble was give and take, dominance and submission, attack and retreat, and more than heavily-implied sex as the dancers challenged each other in a flurry of movement too fast to be unchoreographed or spontaneously performed—at least for humans. But they were going to do it anyway, and perhaps he’d discover that more aggressive side of himself as he was forced to use the technique she was trying to teach him. If this dance existed on this world, which, given the music and the attempts of the couples she could see in the courtyard, it did, then Ignis likely knew everything about it, even if he didn’t know how to dance it himself. And though she was dressed as the cape, she could only hope he realized that she was bull tonight—or whatever the Eosian equivalent, and he was the one with the power to slay her.

_Come and get me._

She began to move again—starting slow as she turned their steps into something more of a dance than a walk to the music. Their bodies nearly touched when she advanced three steps toward him, but he retreated before they made contact. She took a hopping step and whirled to his left before taking two steps backward. He was there to catch her at the end of her maneuver. His fingertips caught the tops of her ribs and grazed lightly down her sides before settling back on her hips, making her shiver. The heat radiated off his body as she leaned heavily back in his arms, and he took her cue to bend and dip her low over his knee, his fingers spreading wide across her bare back to brace her as her skirt melted onto the stone below. Spin. Step forward. Retreat. Dip and be flung out into a whirl. They picked up the pace as they became more familiar with each other.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she said breathlessly, and he tugged her hand to spin her away from him, his eyes catching the voluminous scarlet fabric of her skirt as it draped over and between his long legs like a lover before kicking up like a wave of water with his maneuver. She had to smile at his gaze, as she’d known the moment she’d put it on that he’d appreciate the aesthetics of its movement and its contrast with the blue-grey stone. She herself had always had a flair for the dramatic.

“I take direction well,” he finally said with a small smile, stalking toward her like a coeurl, “but it may very well be a combination of inebriation and an excellent instructor.”

“Oh, don’t even try to blame this on either of those things,” she said with a snort, gesturing toward the specimen of agility and elegance currently advancing on her as she stepped back, flinging her skirt into the air so that it fell around her like a halo. “You can’t fool me into thinking this isn’t _all_ you.”

“Perhaps,” he said with a quirk of his lips as he hauled her into contact position and led her in whirling, hopping circles at a dizzying pace, their feet stepping between and around each other as she used the very technique she was trying to teach him in order to follow his quick, graceful movements. They weren’t working on her skill tonight, but as his assertiveness was certainly something she wanted to see more of, she didn’t mind letting him lead a bit. His eyes widened a fraction at how effortlessly she’d managed to handle his challenge, and she pulled away to retreat, forcing him to once again follow.

She could tell his every emotion just by watching the way he moved—without even the aid of his mind or expression. When he felt confident of his estimation of her movements, he mirrored her nimbly and fluidly, but when he was unsure, his motion stuttered and stumbled. They would hardly be entered for a dance competition anytime soon, but she was still impressed at how quickly he’d grasped the basics of her instruction. Of course, what she was attempting to teach him tonight was only the very tip of an unimaginably enormous iceberg. It had taken her months of frustrating meditation to learn this before she could even begin to apply it to any part of her life, but Ignis’s raw intelligence was so much greater than hers, and he didn’t have to learn the telepathic side of it. He would no doubt pick it up more quickly.

He grabbed her hand and tugged her back against his body, and she spun into him, pressing a gentle hand against his jaw and staring into his smoldering eyes.

“You’re still thinking too much though. You judge your every wrong movement. _Let go_ and feel. Stop trying to sense me with just your eyes and use your entire body to see. Smell, sight, taste, hearing, touch—they’re all the same, Ignis. Your entire body should become a single sensory organ—aware of all, judging nothing, pulling in all the information at once with equal importance.”

He brought his hand up to her shoulder in a caress as she said this, and as she slowly pulled her hand away from his face, he let his palm drag languidly across her skin, down her arm and to her hand. Weaving his fingers through hers, he almost seemed to glower down at her as he raised her hand above her head and jerked her into another twirl. 

The song was reaching its end again, its volume increasing like a cresting wave, so Laura put her hands to Ignis’s chest to walk him back to the wall. But he surprised her—snatching her wrists, spreading them wide above her head, and lunging forward in between them. He spun the two of them around and advanced on her so it was her back against the wall when the song ended, her hands pinned at eye level, his chest brushing hers with each panting breath they took together.

He stared down at her, his gaze dark, and she couldn’t breathe. Her hearts were racing out of control, her body tingling at every point his skin was touching hers.

“Ignis,” she whispered, wondering how much longer she could take this, how much longer until the spell was broken and he would step away.

It was more difficult than people thought for someone like her to find love. Man, woman, or other. Human, Lliamérian, or other—there were deeper levels of attraction for a telepath than for apaths. And then there was the fact that her first _real_ romantic experience had been with James, who had set the bar impossibly high for any who came after him.

But it wasn’t just her standards that were responsible for her absurdly low level of experience for her age. Surprisingly few beings were willing to even attempt a relationship with an ancient telepathic alien who had, on more than one occasion, committed genocide. Even among her own fully telepathic and immortal people, she’d been considered a hybrid freak, an abomination of the blood.

But Ignis. She’d felt a shadow of that attraction the moment they met, and as she’d gotten to know him better, that attraction had grown to a roaring flame she couldn’t ignore. She could feel the compatibility in her mind that she hadn’t felt since James; they could even bond and make each other so very happy. But it wasn’t until he’d gotten to know her true nature and still sought her out that she’d truly begun to hope. He’d seen pretty much all of the worst of her, the most shocking, and he was still standing here with his body engulfing her hers. He’d even held her hand and stood right beside her as she snuffed out an innocent man’s life with nothing but her mind, a scene that had brought back far too many memories, which she needed to stop thinking about before she woke Eilendil up with that cold, Lliamérian disconnect threatening in her head from just this afternoon’s memory alone.

Tonight wasn’t about the past; tonight was about the future, and what was hopefully going to be her future had her pressed up against a wall, looking for all the worlds like he wanted to kiss her.

God, he was so beautiful like this, his eyes reflecting his name, his face flushed, his honey-brown hair falling into his eyes, and the curry and whiskey on his breath mixing with the smoky sage of his aftershave—assaulting her senses. She could feel that stunning mind of his racing as it always was, changing colors and pricking at her brain in such a way that he might consider intimate, had he been aware of the sensation. She only wished she knew what he was thinking, because all she could think was how very much she loved him already.

He wasn’t pulling away, and she wondered if it was finally, _finally_ , time. As much as she would love to reverse their positions and kiss him for all he was worth, she could not, would not abuse her position of power over him.

 _I know it isn’t fair, love, but the first move has to be yours,_ she thought to herself, to him.

It was almost as though he’d heard her and immediately moved to comply, his mouth swooping down on hers and meeting her lips with a soft chastity that dazzled her with its tenderness. She waited patiently for him to decide what to do while he held his lips closed and still—waited for him to move them, waited for him to step away, whatever he wanted.

She felt his mind flood with shame and humiliation as he stepped back and let her go, and she realized she’d made the wrong decision. He’d needed her to be more forceful—to reassure him.

Ignis had already begun speaking on a rushed exhale the moment he’d parted from her, “Rose . . . Laura. I must beg your forgiveness. It won’t happen again. Please, Laura, I’m so s—”

He made to step farther from her but froze immediately when she reached out for his face to halt his progress. He braced himself as though he were expecting her to slap him, and her hearts faltered.

“Gods, _never_ , Ignis,” she breathed, slowing her hand to show him her intentions clearly. “I would _never_ hit you.”

As her hand made gentle contact with his cheek and jaw, she stepped forward, standing on the tips of her toes, and slowly stretched her neck so her mouth brushed against his. She parted her lips a little as they touched so she could caress his bottom lip between hers tenderly, and he responded immediately, mimicking her actions so that he had her top lip between his. They both pulled back at the same time only to meet again, sweetly, gently, over and over and over, increasing in pressure and intensity until he turned his head to the side and gasped.

“Rose.”

She wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. 

“I just want you to know,” she murmured against his sharp jawline as she feathered her mouth along his stubble and left hot, panting kisses up towards his sideburns.

“Yes?” he asked breathlessly, and she could feel his entire body trembling beneath her own shaking hands.

“You are most welcome to do that to me _any_ time you like,” she replied, scraping her teeth gently along the bulge of his jawbone beneath his ear.

“ _Oh_.” He shuddered. “Is that so?” he recovered in a more melodious tone. “Would you mind terribly if I . . . tried that again right n—”

“Oh _gods_ , please,” she groaned into his ear, interrupting him.

The man who turned his head and devoured her mouth wasn’t the same one she’d just kissed. This man was Ignis Scientia, a man who may or may not have kissed a woman before, but knew what the fuck he was doing regardless—at least had thoroughly done his homework. He pushed her back against the wall, cradling her head as he parted her lips with his curry and whiskey-laced tongue, seeking out hers with dexterity and passion to perform a dance of his own.

She grasped desperately at his head with both hands, pulling him closer, Ignis, please, come closer, and he must have felt the same because he used the length of his entire body to press her up against the stone as his mouth continued to move over hers. The jubilation and triumph thundering through him seemed to roll up her fingers and into her brain, and _oh bloody hell_ she wanted to reach out, fall into that dazzling mind, and lose herself in his joy—to dive into him and be held inside that gentle, kind, brave, fierce, curious, and so very selfless heart of his. Little did this universe know she was holding all the best of humanity distilled into this one, unassuming mortal being between her hands, so very close to her own mind. 

 _No_ , she thought as she snatched her hands away, running them down his neck and over his broad, strong shoulders. She’d pushed this relationship as far as she could—much, much farther than she’d expected she could. It had been an absolute miracle that he’d accepted as much of her as he had, but telepathy was taking it a step too far. She remembered the night she’d confessed, the seething hurt and anger tossed like daggers at her hearts as he’d accused her of touching him to read his mind. No, she would have to be satisfied with what he would give her—a physical and emotional relationship only. With a man like Ignis, it was more than enough.

He groaned into her mouth, moving his hands to stroke from her ribs to her hips—up and down and again—sending chills up and down the length of her body. As she nibbled at his tongue in response, she had to fight the desire to jump up and wrap her legs around him to do _something_ about the aching rush of warmth shooting through her center. Still, he pressed more insistently against her, and she could feel his length pressing into her belly, which wasn’t exactly helping the case for convincing herself not to not jump him immediately.

At feeling this as well, he gasped, tearing their mouths apart and settling his hands on her hips to steady her, to steady himself. He pressed his forehead to hers, panting heavily.

“I think,” he began, his breath washing over her face in waves, “I enjoy not thinking . . . sometimes.” He chuckled, and she smiled back up at him, reaching up to give him an encouraging peck. “But we should probably get back.”

“Yeah, probably,” she said, allowing the disappointment to lace her tone.

He hummed in amusement before reaching down to kiss her one more time, slow, sweet, and lingering, smiling against her lips. As he pulled away, he wrapped his arm around hers and entwined their fingers.

“This will _not_ be the last time we do this,” he promised.

“Good,” she nodded with a grin. Then she added, “Meet me in the lobby tomorrow morning, the time we usually forage, and wear some actual sparring clothes. It’s time we apply what you’ve learned to combat now.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he replied with smile so wide that his glittering eyes almost crinkled completely closed.

Together, adrenaline fading but hearts so very full of affection, they walked hand in hand through the streets of Lestallum toward the Leville.


	25. Chapter 25

“That last game was totally rigged. I swear, I got a clean headshot on that guy before he killed me,” Prompto whined as he fell back on the couch.

“Uh huh, you keep tryin’ to tell yourself that. You know it’s a computer, right? Not like it decides to hate you or anything,” Noct said as he sat in the chair across from him.

“If it’d been real life, that guy woulda been sooooo dead!” Prompto said, sitting up suddenly and pointing finger guns at him, and Noct chuckled, shaking his head.

This was what he loved about hanging out with Prompto. There was never any pressure to do or be anything. It was just fun. There was no doubt in his mind that if the four of them had all been regular guys together in high school, Prompto would’ve been the only one to come out of it his friend. It made him respect him even more for volunteering to be in this hellhole. Of course, it also highlighted how shitty it was that the other two were bound to him through all this.

“Whaddya think’s going on out there?” Prompto asked, jerking his head toward the front door, where they could hear two people giggling like idiots in the hall outside.

“Drunks,” Noct said, ejecting a puff of a laugh through his nose. “That’s the problem being so close to the stairs.”

They sat and listened as the giggling and snorting got louder and louder until they heard the key in the lock, and when the door flung open and banged against the wall, Iggy and Laura stumbled through, nearly falling on their faces.

Noct looked over at Prompto with eyes as wide as they would go, and Prompto, who’d already summoned his camera and was clicking away, grimaced with his eyebrows raised.

Laura was dressed in some kinda sexy flamenco dancer costume like it was Daemon’s Night or something, her hair loose and wild, spilling down her back. And Specs was just a mess. He looked like he’d been out hunting all day in the Leiden heat—his hair drooping from its usual plume to fall in his eyes and his coeurl-print shirt sticking to his skin.

“Uhhh, what the hell have you guys been up to?” Prompto asked.

They sobered and straightened immediately at Prompto’s words, exchanging a look before turning to Noct and Prompto.

Specs might have looked a mess, but he grew formally straight and smoothed his expression completely before replying, “My most sincere apologies for the interruption. We had some dinner, and then we finally got around to practicing my footwork. If you’ll pardon me, I should like to get cleaned up—that is, unless I can be of any service to you this evening, Highness?”

Noct grimaced a little at the address. Back in Insomnia, he’d never given it much thought, what Iggy’s life was like moment to moment when he wasn’t around. It was just so easy to unwind after a day of classes and training and a thousand subtle reminders all day about how the future of the world was on his shoulders. It was so easy to just sit back and be taken care of, not have to think about anything. Iggy had always just been so steady—annoying, but steady. But now that Noct was out here with just the four of them, he couldn’t help but see what he hadn’t back home. What _did_ the guy do for fun when Noct wasn’t around? What was his personal life like? Did he even have one? He’d followed Noct around almost his whole life, so Noct had just assumed that nitpicking was just what he enjoyed—always cooking, cleaning, doing work, nagging Noct to work, mothering him.

And then there was that nightmare he’d gone through as a kid— _because of him_. Noct still couldn’t believe it was real, that he’d never breathed a word about it all those years—still wouldn’t. It kinda made him feel betrayed. But it also made him take an even harder look at the guy who’d been his friend for as long as he could remember, and he didn’t like what he saw. It was like he’d been raised to be Noct’s friend, like he’d been beaten and forced into it, and Noct had just gone along with it, never questioning that his childhood friend was also his servant.

How many times had Iggy stood there beside him, giving him advice or cleaning up after him when he was bone dead tired from doing other things? How many times had Noct casually made a suggestion and Iggy had bent over backward to make it happen because he saw it as an order from his liege? Noct bet it was even more than he thought, cause he was starting to notice the permanent circles under Iggy’s eyes were disappearing, the sighs were coming less often, and even the number of cans of Ebony had reduced—even though the guy was still obviously an addict.

Now that he’d seen it—that servitude and sacrifice, he couldn’t unsee it. But he didn’t want a servant in Iggy. He wanted the friend—the big brother—he’d thought he had. Noct had been trying lately to push him off on Laura because it looked like it made him happy; he’d never seen Specs smile so much—let alone whatever the hell _that_ snorting giggling mess just was—except for that one time he accidentally got high off espresso. But even though hanging out with Prompto was awesome, Noct found he missed the irritating prick—a lot. Maybe he should just try to spend some time with him—see if he couldn’t find his friend again.

“No, Specs, it’s cool. Go ahead and do your thing,” he said, plastering a smile on his face and waving him off to the door that led to the kitchen and bedroom. But after he’d done it, he realized it looked too much like a dismissal. Damnit. How did things get to be so awkward? To make matters worse, Iggy bowed his head before striding through the door.

Laura stood there for a moment, watching him leave before sitting down on the couch next to Prompto, summoning a clip to pull her hair into a twist.

“I can’t believe how hot it is here when it was so nice back at Wiz’s. It’s not like the two regions are that far apart from each other . . .. What are you two staring at?”

Noct looked at Prompto, then back at Laura. “You were sparring . . . wearing that?” he asked, gesturing at her costume.

If it wasn’t so obviously a Daemon’s Night costume, he would’ve sworn that Laura and Iggy had just been out on a date—even if it was June and nowhere near Daemon’s Night. But then, Specs would never wear Crownsguard fatigues out on a date. Or would he? The idea of ‘Specs’ and ‘date’ in the same sentence was just . . . weird. And Laura, she was an _alien_. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but she wasn’t just an alien, she was kind of a weird one too. He just didn’t see them together, even if they were good friends.

Laura looked down at herself, then back up at the two of them. “Oh, well. . ., it’s hot out. And some of us do try to make some effort to blend in with the local culture, you know,” she said with a teasing smile as she gestured to their Crownsguard fatigues.

“Riiiight,” Prompto said, narrowing his eyes at her and tilting his head. 

It did kind of make sense to Noct, more sense than Iggy going out on a date, anyway. He and Prompto had seen how the women dressed here on their way to and from the arcade, and Laura was actually wearing a lot more clothes than them. But she’d have to do better than a costume if she was gonna blend in.

The door to the suite opened, and Gladio walked in. “Sup,” he greeted with a thrust of his chin. “Iggy back too?”

“Yeah,” Noct said before anyone else could reply. “How’d it go with Iris?”

He’d been trying to do that lately with all of them, showing them all that he actually did give a shit about them as people, ever since the thing with Iggy. Noct and Gladio had always had a more professional, ass-kicking type relationship than Noct and Iggy, but he still considered them really close friends. It just wasn’t until Laura had pointed it out that day in Keycatrich that he realized he didn’t know jack about Gladio either. It wasn’t that he didn’t care—he really did. It was just . . . he was always so tired after the sparring and the lecturing that the idea of trying to hold a conversation and pry into someone else’s life sounded even more miserable than it usually did. He didn’t like asking people questions because the answers usually made him uncomfortable, and then he wouldn’t know what to say or do to continue the conversation. It was usually easier just to stay quiet.

Gladio drooped down on the couch next to Laura, using the back of his arm to wipe the sheen of sweat off his forehead. “It was good as it coulda been I guess. Dad definitely knew ahead of time. Set up all this stuff with Jared: helluva lotta gil to take care of Iris, information on tombs and stuff, even a way for us to get to Altissia. I gotta get with Iggy and make sure he knows so he can fit it into his grand plan. Still gotta figure out what to do with Iris long-term though while we’re off gallivanting.”

“I’m just glad she’s safe,” Laura said to him. “I’m sure everything else will sort itself in time.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He looked over at her. “Hey, Princess . . . you look _good_ ,” he said with a flirtatious grin.

“Thanks, Glad,” she replied with a bright smile, leaning into his side, and he put his arm around her shoulders.

“Yeah, apparently she and Iggy were out ‘sparring,’” Noct said.

“Huh. ‘Sparring . . .,’” he mused, looking down at her from the side of his eye and smirking. “And did Iggy learn a lot?”

“I’d say enough for one night, yes,” she said, staring up at him with some kinda significant look.

Noct would never admit it to anyone else, but he just didn’t get the dance that happened between two people when they were flirting. Laura and Gladio seemed to do it a lot though, and he wondered if there was something going on there just as much as with her and Iggy. The flirting thing kinda made him feel awkward, and he was glad she’d never tried that with him.

“Okay, you guys’re just being weird,” Prompto said, seeming to agree with Noct’s thoughts. “Now that everyone’s back, I’m gonna hit the gysahl greens.” He pointed toward the bedroom.

“Yeah, we should all clear out so Laura can have her bedroom,” Gladio said, standing and herding Noct and Prompto through the door, past the kitchen, and into the bedroom.

Noct sat down on his side of the bed that he and Iggy would be sharing and waited for him to come out of the shower, which was never longer than six minutes. For a guy who was so into being clean and styled, he could never be accused of being selfish about bathroom time. Sure enough, it was only about a minute before the door opened, and he emerged from the bathroom wearing his usual blue and grey pinstriped pajama pants and grey t-shirt.

Iggy didn’t seem to be paying attention to any of them—or notice that they were all sitting on the edge of their beds staring in silence. After pulling back the covers, he settled primly onto the edge of his side of the bed, taking off his glasses and humming the chocobo tune cheerfully to himself in the smallest, faintest voice as he rocked his head back and forth a little. Was he actually gonna go to bed at the same time as them for once too?

Iggy looked up, his eyes locking on Prompto, who sat closest to him on the other bed. Prompto was stock still, staring with his mouth open.

“Are you all right, Prompto?” he asked.

“Were you . . . humming?” Prompto asked incredulously.

“Hmm, I suppose I was,” he mused.

“Who are you, and what did you do with Iggy?!” he asked accusingly, but Ignis laughed in response.

They must’ve had a few shots of espresso after dinner. It was the only explanation for why Specs could be like this. They’d have to warn Laura next time to keep him away from the stuff at night though, as the guy was probably gonna be up tossing and turning, giggling and humming all night.

“My lips are sealed,” Iggy replied mysteriously before turning to Noct, looking back and forth between the two of them. “And you, Noct? Did you two enjoy your evening at the arcade?”

“Yeah, actually. The place was cramped and old, but they actually had some good games, even some computers for online gaming and stuff. Prom and I spent most of our time on Assassin’s Creed though. Actually, the guy there said there was gonna be an Assassin’s Festival here in a month. Sounds like it’s gonna be sooooooo awesome. Can we go, Iggy? Please? PLEASE?”

Iggy gave him a crooked smile, “Besides the fact that we’re on the run from the Empire, there’s an Imperial bounty on your head, and we have no idea where we’re going to be in a month, I don’t see why we couldn’t.”

“All right!” Prompto shouted, jumping off the bed and punching a fist in the air. “Did ya hear that Noct? Maybe we can even dress up . . . as ASSASSINS.”

“Hell yeah!”

“Now, now, kindly keep your voices down. Too many nights spent in a haven, and you’ve forgotten we’re in a hotel room with other people nearby.”

“You should talk,” Noct said as he narrowed his eyes at him. “Or are you tryin’ to say that _wasn’t_ you giggling up the hallway earlier?”

“Giggling up the hallway?” Gladio asked, lying down on his back with his hands under his head.

“Did you get into the espresso again, Iggy?” Prompto asked.

“You know you can’t drink that stuff like coffee,” Noct reminded him. They’d all taken him out to a coffee shop for his twenty-first birthday after he’d adamantly refused to be responsible for taking the Crown Prince to a bar. Eight shots of espresso later, and the guy might as well have been wasted. Gladio’d had to drive them all home while Iggy rolled around giggling in the back seat like a cat doped up on catnip.

“I’m certain I have no idea what you’re talking about. But you haven’t told me about the rest of your evening.”

Noct might not have noticed the first time Iggy manipulated them into forgetting about him, but he noticed this time. The guy didn’t want to be in the spotlight, clearly, so he pretended to fall for it, going through a play by play of all the games he and Prompto played that evening, with Prompto jumping in from time to time to make corrections or add to his story. As he spoke, Iggy nodded along enthusiastically, asking for more information or his opinions on the games he’d never heard Noct mention before. Noct tried to single out a change in their interaction, but besides his eyes being bright as he smiled up at the ceiling and the fact that he didn’t once ask how much money they’d spent, Noct could spot no difference.

***

He’d had a pretty shitty night. It wasn’t often that he had nightmares that he remembered, but when he did, they were usually related to that damn prophecy. Last night was different though. Gladio and Iggy had come to him and told him there wasn’t a king anymore, so they saw no reason to continue this trip with him. The worst part was, when he woke up, he realized it was true. There was absolutely nothing stopping them from leaving right now to go out and find their own lives. Sure, he’d still have Prompto, and Laura was definitely powerful enough to get him through this, but it wouldn’t be the same with Laura. He considered her a friend, but not like Gladio and Iggy. What was keeping them there with him now? It must’ve been the end of the world, because he couldn’t see a single reason why they’d continue to stand behind him. It wasn’t like he was a king like his dad had been.

He rubbed at his swollen eyes and shuffled into the kitchen, where Iggy was alone at the counter, making coffee.

“Morning, Highness!” he sang.

“Ugh, morning,” he replied. “That’s enough coffee for you, I think, especially after last night. Find another beverage that doesn’t make you so . . . wired, will you?”

“Well, I very much doubt I ever will, but I’ll allow the idea to percolate and see if I come up with any alternatives,” he replied, turning to him with a grin.

“See what I mean? Too much caffeine, Specs.”

“It’s a stimulating debate, to be certain, but do try to tamp your emotions regarding my coffee habit. I don’t foresee it disappearing any time soon.”

“Iggy?”

“Yes, Noct?”

“Shut up.”

“Of course.”

For a second, Noct thought he’d gone and done it again, but Iggy kept talking.

“Laura made tea for Gladio this morning—Laoshan Black, she called it. It has the most delightful flavors of cocoa and bread. She left some leaf behind in case you wanted any. Would you care for some?”

“I don’t have to do all the ceremony crap, do I?”

“Language, Highness. And no. She’s anticipated your distaste for ceremony and left you a regular mug.”

“Then, yeah. Thanks a lot, Specs,” he said sincerely.

Iggy turned around and gave him a significant look. “It truly is my pleasure, Noct,” he said before turning back to make the tea.

“So did the others already leave? How the hell is everyone so awake?”

“Well, one has time to wake up if one has been up for hours already. There is no better way of getting up in the morning than greeting the dawn,” he replied cheerfully. “Laura just left to use Lady Iris’s en suite so as not to disturb your rest. Gladio and Prompto are out with young Talcott, touring the city. I would have gone with them, but I had already departed for the morning. And Lady Iris is helping Jared in the lobby with a project, but she requested to see you as soon as you were available.”

As Iggy finished pouring the boiling water into the mug and set the leaves to steep, a tremor passed through the floors of the hotel, making the dishes in the cabinet rattle and the floor at their feet vibrate.

“My word,” Iggy said. “I’d heard there was an increase in seismic activity in this region as of late, but it’s my first time feeling it. It’s unsettling, don’t you think?”

But Noct couldn’t respond. At the very moment the tremors had started, fiery metal pokers seemed to stab through his temples and deep into his brain. He leaned forward on the table, pressing his head with both his hands in an attempt to keep his skull from splitting open as his lungs tried to pull in air.

“Noct! Are you all right?” he heard Iggy ask as he felt gentle hands pressing against his shoulders, his arms, and the top of his head.

But just like that, the pain ceased, leaving only a dull headache behind. Nothing a little caffeine couldn’t cure.

“Yeah, just . . . got a headache there for a sec,” he said, waving the reluctant advisor off him. “Really, I’m fine. Thanks though.”

As Specs turned back to get his tea, Noct thought about just how much Iggy had always taken care of him. He definitely didn’t want Iggy as a servant, but it was nice to feel cared for in a way his dad couldn’t. He really did think of Specs as a smarter, really annoying older brother. He’d been right about everything so many times over the years that Noct trusted Iggy implicitly, even over his own judgment.

Iggy set the tea down in front of him and took his own seat on the other side of the table.

“All right, care to finally tell me what’s set those thoughts of yours brewing?” Iggy asked.

“I dunno,” Noct replied, blowing a little on his tea to cool it down.

Iggy’s face turned serious at his reply. Most people thought that expression meant he was pissed, but Noct knew better. This was advisor Iggy on a mission. Noct knew Specs would never push him for more than he was willing to spill, but Iggy would do this thing where he’d sit there for as long as it took for Noct to start talking. And since he analyzed the hell out of anything Noct said, it usually took Noct longer to gather his thoughts just so he’d say the right thing.

When he’d almost finished his tea, he looked up to see Iggy still sitting there calmly, patiently—waiting.

Noct sighed. “I knew my dad wasn’t gonna be there forever, but I thought he’d be there for part of it at least. I need more time, Iggy. I’m not ready. I just feel . . . I dunno. Lost.”

Iggy looked down at the table for a moment, pressing his lips tightly together before replying. “I’ll admit this particular piece of advice doesn’t originate from me, but someone gave it to me when I was feeling similarly, and I found it rather helpful. Sometimes, lost is where you need to be. Just because you don’t know your direction doesn’t mean you don’t have one.”

“When were _you_ ever feeling lost?” Noct asked incredulously, then winced to himself. It was still easy to forget that not everything in Iggy’s life had been perfect with him back and acting completely normal.

“I am not immune to the shortcomings of being human, you know,” he said with a sympathetic smile. “Fortunately, I was wise enough to seek advice as you’re doing now.”

He sighed and took another sip of his coffee before adjusting his perfectly straight glasses on his nose. “Your powers are growing exponentially. Do you remember how much trouble you had with the blade warp in training?”

“Heh. Yeah, never could seem to get it down just right.”

“Now look at you. Your performance was masterful in the fight against Deadeye. You mastered Laura’s elemental spell technique nearly instantly, enabling you to save the life of a dear friend and comrade.”

He leaned in a little, inclining his head to catch Noct’s eyes. “And I can’t tell you how shockingly pleasant it is to go through a battle and not be electrocuted.”

Noct couldn’t help it. He chuckled and slapped at Iggy’s hand on the table.

“Shut up.”

Iggy grew quiet and sincere as he continued. “Take your time, Noct. We have a goal we’re accomplishing for now, and there’s time to figure out the rest. I’m quite proud of your achievements since we left, and I have complete faith that you’ll make a most excellent king. In the meantime, know that we are all here for you, and always will be—whatever you need.”

Of course it was just what he’d needed to hear. He didn’t realize how much it would mean to him, Iggy being proud.

“Thanks, Specs.”

“It has always been and will always be my pleasure, Highness.”

“Hey, Iggy?” Noct said in a small voice. He really didn’t wanna drag this out, but he had to say _something_. He owed it to him, for all Iggy’d done for him.

“Yes?”

“I’m . . . sorry. For . . . you know—not noticing.”

This time, Iggy’s face turned cold, his teeth clenched with a click, and he looked down at the table as though it had done something to personally offend him. When he spoke, he only relaxed his jaw just enough to get the words out.

“I do hope you don’t blame yourself, Noct. You were, after all, only a child. There is nothing to apologize for, I assure you. I beg of you, please put that unpleasantness out of your mind, and let us not mention these things again.”

Noct raised his mug to swallow the very last dregs of his tea before standing. He knew Iggy well enough to know that the conversation was over, and though Noct was glad that Iggy didn’t blame him for anything, it didn’t keep him from feeling more than a little responsible. But Noct couldn’t take any more awkwardness than they’d experienced already anyway; it was time for him to escape.

“All right. I’m gonna go see Iris, I guess.”

His voice was almost completely cheerful again as he replied, “Very well. Perhaps we can all meet here afterward and take a more thorough tour of the market. I’ve not yet had the pleasure.”

“Yeah, sure,” Noct said with a smile. “See ya later.”

As soon as he’d shut the door to their suite, he nearly ran into Laura coming up the stairs and passing by their room.

“Good morning, Noctis. Sleep well?”

“Yeah, all right,” he lied. “Did you see Iris down there just now?”

“Yes, I had to get the key from her, but then I got sidetracked helping Marcus look for his watch.”

“Who?”

“Guy at the front desk,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“Oh. Anyway, I should go see what Iris wants.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I think I can guess what Iris wants. Have fun.”

***

“Come, Noct. Look!” Iggy said excitedly, pointing to a bunch of bright yellow fruits hanging on a hook outside a stall. “They smell sweet. Could they possibly be the missing ingredient in your pastry?”

“I dunno, maybe,” Noct said, blowing his bangs out of his eyes with a deep sigh.

“We should certainly pick some up to try, along with any other local fruits they may have. Oh! And this stall has the cheapest rice in the market. I did make a note last night to pick more up.”

“Um . . . didn’t we already pass by this stall?” Prompto asked, a hint of a whine in his voice.

“Yeah, twice,” Noct replied under his breath.

Shopping with Specs in a new place with so many stalls turned out to be a nightmare, and Noct himself had already walked through it once with Iris earlier this morning. Iggy had to look at every single item every single stall sold, make a note of the price, then sweep through again to actually buy either the best or the cheapest ingredients—usually at six or seven different stalls. And every time he came across a new ingredient, he had to have a long discussion with the stall owner about its uses and cooking instructions. It seemed like every five minutes, he was taking that notebook of his out and jotting down recipes. They’d been there four hours with no end in sight. Noct was all for making an effort to do some of Iggy’s things, but this was getting to be too much.

“Ugh, and he mentioned going clothes shopping with Iris later. They both have this . . . fashion thing, I guess. Let’s try to find some way to duck out before then,” Noct said from behind his hand.

“Hey,” Gladio grunted. “That man sits next to you for hours on end and stares at the water while you fish. Think you can handle a market. And if he asks us to go clothes shopping, you bet we’re gonna go. Same thing goes if my sister asks, too. Got it?”

“They have the most vibrant Leiden peppers here!” Iggy called back to them, holding a pepper aloft with a wide smile.

They all turned to look at him, then back at each other, and Gladio sighed. “At least he’s happy. Try to find some way to make sure he doesn’t ask though, yeah?”

Noct nodded. It was harder than he’d thought, doing boring things for hours on end, and he’d really been trying today for Iggy’s sake. It was paying off, it seemed, cause Iggy was in a really good mood, and it didn’t seem to have anything to do with Laura, as she hadn’t been around all day.

“Hey, Specs,” Noct said, sidling up to him. “Where’s Laura today?”

At first, Iggy didn’t seem to hear him. He had a faint smile on his face, a faraway look in his eyes, and a blush on his cheeks as he ran a gloved finger along one of the scarlet pepper’s ridges.

Eventually, he answered, “Oh, she’s likely out wrapping the entire town around her finger, as she’s wont to do everywhere we go, it would seem.”

“You okay there, Iggy?” Prompto asked. “Your face’s all red.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s just getting quite warm out. I was just thinking about using this in a new recipe, actually. I’ve decided to call it peppery daggerquill rice.”

“Spicy rice? Awesome!” Prompto said, dancing back and forth on his toes.

“Yes, I thought you might like it,” he said. “After this, there’s an apothecary nearby I’d like to visit, if everyone else is amenable. They’re supposed to have all manner of poisons indigenous to the area.”

“You betcha, Iggy,” Gladio said, and even Noct was impressed at how enthused Gladio had managed to sound.

If there was anything worse than food shopping with Iggy, it was poison shopping. Noct had gone with him once before they left Insomnia, and he swore he’d never do it again. There wasn’t anything else to look at, so Noct had been stuck staring at jars of gigantoad hearts or whatever for hours on end while Iggy grilled the owner about every possible chemical interaction for every poison or venom he bought.

But Specs wasn’t falling for Gladio’s enthusiastic approval. His eyes narrowed at the three of them before looking down at his watch and gasping.

“My apologies, all of you. I’m afraid I’ve lost track of the hour. Imagine, you all traipsing after me as I monopolize the day. We could go back to the arcade if you like. Or I did some research, and there’s a bookstore of the sort you would prefer, Gladio. It’s right next door to a gadget shop and across the street from a hunting store that sells fishing equipment.”

“Or, we could say ‘hi’ to Laura,” Prompto said, pointing down the aisle.

“Hey, Princess!” Gladio called out, and Noct turned to see her wave from several stalls down.

As they approached, they saw she was holding out some kinda alien looking object—golden brown with lighter gold shell patterns, and the craziest, spikiest green top. It looked . . .  kinda dangerous as she handed it off to the stall keeper in exchange for what looked like a bag of fine Cleigne wheat.

“An’ if ya just cut the top off and plan’ it, it’ll grow a whole new one. Should grow good in this area, yeah? I’ll write ya the recipe for tha’ upside down cake an’ drop it off la’er,” she said with a bright smile. “An’ tell Jacob I taped ‘is daughter’s recital. His phone’s on the table in back.”

It was only after the stall keeper thanked her that she turned to them. “Hey, guys!”

“Hey, Laura!” Prompto said, bouncing up to her and putting his arm around her shoulder. “Whatcha up to now?”

“Well, think I jus’ introduced the pineapple to your planet. You’re welcome!”

“Do you mean to say you’re trading from your private stores to purchase ingredients? You realize that I set aside a small allowance for each of us to make personal purchases,” Iggy said with a frown.

“Yeah, and when have you ever bought anything personal?” Gladio asked.

“I just did! I’ve never seen zu tender before, and I used my personal funds so I could experiment with it.”

“Yeah, and then who’s gonna eat it?”

“Well,” Iggy said, looking down at his shirt and picking off an invisible piece of lint, “I was hoping maybe you all wouldn’t mind trying it . . ..”

“Uh huh, my point exactly. That’s not personal, Iggy. Use group funds for that shit.”

“Yeah, it kinda gets awkward wiv group funds ‘n all. Oh, speakin’ of, picked up a buncha errands ‘n stuff for us. Been ‘round town all mornin’ talkin’ t’ everyone,” she said, surreptitiously summoning a list while her hand was obscured in her shopping bag and handing it to Iggy.

“There may be some duplicates. We’ve spoken to all the market stall owners,” Iggy said, looking the list over. “Still, there are several here we don’t have.”

Noct was watching the two of them interact very closely, and besides that weird accent thing Laura did sometimes, everything looked perfectly normal between the two of them. Actually, they looked even less cozy than usual, standing farther apart and acting all business.

He was about to ask Laura what her plans were for the rest of the day when the ground shook and another set of pokers lodged in his head. Damn it, that was the third time this morning.

“This is not normal,” Gladio growled.

“Another headache?” Iggy asked, concerned.

“I’m fine, you guys, really,” Noct said.

“That’s three times this morning. And three tremors. That can’t be a coincidence, man,” Prompto said.

“It’s not,” Laura said in a hard voice, and Noct looked up to see her glaring at him. “Are you all right? Really, don’t try to be tough.”

“Uh . . .,” he said as he checked how his head felt. “Yeah, I think so. The pain goes away as soon as the tremors stop, but it leaves behind a headache. Why?”

“It’s telepathy. Every time the ground shakes, a telepathic howl goes out. I thought they’ve been trying to contact me, but I haven’t been able to establish a connection. Can’t even tell a direction it’s coming from. Guess it’s you they’re calling, but they sure aren’t being careful about it.”

“Who’d be trying to call Noct telepathically?” Prompto asked. “I mean, phone’s the easiest way.”

“Perhaps the caller simply lacks Noct’s mobile number,” Iggy said with a smirk before turning serious and looking to Laura. “Could the caller hurt him?”

“I’m not getting a feeling of malevolence, but yes, they could if they aren’t careful. I could put a temporary block on your head to protect you, but then they wouldn’t be able to reach you, either.”

“No, then. Let’s leave it open for now. Find out what they want,” Noct said. He didn’t know of any telepathic people on Eos besides Laura and the Crystal, but if they were trying so hard to get a hold of him that they were making the ground shake, it must’ve been really important.

“Can I get your permission to do it if it looks like they made contact but are hurting you? I’d like to be prepared, and touching your mind without permission is a dilemma I’d rather not have to deal with.”

“You wouldn’t . . . look at anything else, right?” It wasn’t like there were secrets or anything in his head, but the idea of Laura just walking around in his memories was kinda creepy.

She shook her head. “No, I swear. I don’t even really need to go into your mind to do it—just . . . more like your brain.”

Noct looked over at Iggy. He always knew when a person was trustworthy or not. They all trusted Laura with their lives, but Noct wasn’t sure he was ready to trust her with his head. They all had seen what she’d done to that man, and what if she slipped and killed him instead of protecting him? But Iggy’s expression turned serious before he nodded.

“All right then, yeah,” Noct said with a sigh.

“Then I should probably stay close until this gets solved . . . damnit. I promised Geri I’d pick up her kids to give her the afternoon off while I did the grocery shopping for Mr. Kirkland. He hasn’t been able to leave the house in weeks, and none of his neighbors has been able to do it lately.”

“Haven’t we only been here like, less than a day?” Prompto asked under his breath.

“Um, I could do that with you, I guess,” Noct said, rubbing at the back of his neck. He’d much rather wrangle a bunch of kids for another turn around this market than go to the apothecary . . . and definitely more than going shopping with Iris. “But we gotta be back early—before Talcott’s bedtime. Guess he’s got a tip for us about a Royal Arm behind a waterfall or something.”

“Yeah, so you and Prompto can go with Laura. Iggy and I are gonna check out some poisons. Meet you guys back at the Leville for dinner?” Gladio asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Noct replied, turning to go with Laura, but Iggy stopped him with a quick pat on the shoulder.

“You have my sincere thanks for today, Noct,” he said with a nod. “Do be careful, and allow Laura to put the block on if the pain becomes too much.”

“You really trust her . . .,” Noct said in wonder. There were just so few people in the world that Iggy had ever trusted, and even fewer with Noct’s life.

“I do.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Violence and angst. I'm not sure about this one, being new to the Final Fantasy fanfic world, but someone said that death mention would be an appropriate warning to give without spoiling anything. Let me know if that's wrong.

After several days of hunting and running the errands for the townspeople that most of the hunters considered beneath them, Noct decided to check out Talcott’s tip about the sword behind the waterfall, which paid off. His chest was still burning from receiving the Power of Kings from the Wanderer as the five of them stood outside in the late afternoon sunlight, and four of them were still shifting from foot to foot to shake the chill of the icy cave from their skin and bones.

“Thanks, Laura,” Prompto said as he handed her jacket back to her and hopped up and down a little, still shivering. “Thought I was gonna turn into an ice cube back there!”

“If you’re going to be a human running around ice caves, you should probably invest in a jacket, Prom,” she said with an amused smile. “You _are_ the most naked of all of us, running around in those cutoff sleeves.”

Then she turned to Gladio. “Well, I suppose Gladio’s wearing less,” she said, gesturing to his six-pack. “But I would’ve paid good money to watch Gladio try and fit in my jacket.”

“Really?” Gladio asked, tilting his head in thought. “How much we talkin’?”

Noct tried to picture Gladio stuffing his huge biceps into the sleeve of Laura’s Glaive jacket and was beginning to snicker a little when the ground shook beneath his feet—again—and the pain, this time so much worse than the other fifty times or so it’d happened in the last few days, was enough to send him to his knees.

“Argh!” he cried out, clutching at his temples.

Noct was dimly aware of the others’ concerned responses—the murmurs rising in pitch and volume the longer he went without responding, but it was as though he was no longer connected to his own body to answer them; they sounded so far away. He’d been brought to this place instead, where jolting, painful images were being violently hurled at his mind’s eye—burning, shoving, pressing, suffocating—like having fire shoved right in his face when he had nowhere to back away to except further into himself. He tried to gasp in a breath, but the images were coming so fast and pushing him back further and further that he couldn’t recover from the pain. A fiery eye surrounded by stone skin. A view of the Disc of Cauthess—a view closer, closer, closer. The meteor on fire, and the fire was burning his mind from the inside out.

Back in his body, a million miles away, something cool was touching his face—maybe. It felt like fingers sliding to his cheeks, temples, and behind his ears, and the second they moved into position, something immense and gold and bright and terrifying slammed into the images with incredible force, shoving them back and giving him room to breathe. The fire seemed to try to fight back, slamming back into the gold, but the wall of gold held, glowing brighter and sparkling at a faster rate as it reared back and bashed itself against the fire again.

 ** _Eos?_** the fire screamed into his mind, and Noct thought it sounded fearful and furious at the same time. The fire must’ve realized that there was something in his head not from Eos.

Noct heard Laura’s voice respond, too close to his thoughts to be hearing it from his ears. Her tone was just as livid, but he noted with gratitude that it was quieter, gentler.

_No. What have you done?_

But the fire didn’t answer back, only slammed back against the golden wall.

Noct had never really considered himself fragile. Even as a kid when he’d been injured, he managed to pick himself up and get back to his life as soon as he’d fully healed, despite being physically limited and emotionally compromised by the experience. But standing here in this unfamiliar realm where there was no such thing as a sword to summon or magic to use, he was helpless and powerless as he watched two limitless entities clash so close to everything that made him who he was, shaking him to his very foundations, and it made him feel so small, so . . . mortal.

_Try to hold still, Noctis. This will just take a second._

A blanket seemed to settle lightly over his mind, and his awareness of the burning images disappeared completely, the pain disappearing as it washed away in the soothing drops of water falling on his mind like rain.

So, that was what it felt like to be touched by a telepath. All things said and done, he’d rather not do it again if he didn’t have to. Truthfully, he found Laura’s presence just as unsettling as the fire. When he had finally recovered his breath enough to open his eyes, even if he was still dizzy, Noct looked up to find Laura removing her hands from his face and the concerned expressions of the others hovering over him.

“I think we get the message. The Archaean would like a word with you, it would seem.  Can’t say that I really approve of his methods of communication though,” she said with a scowl. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, thanks,” he muttered as he pushed himself to his feet, making the others take a step back.

“So that was Titan giving you headaches the whole time? Why would he do that?” Prompto asked.

“Let’s go pay him a visit and ask him,” Gladio growled as they began heading up the narrow path between the river and the cliff.

“It may have been unintentional,” Iggy replied. “After all, the very reason that messengers exist is because it is believed the gods cannot communicate directly with mortals.”

“Well then he should’ve hired Hermes or sent an email, because crashing through the natural defenses of a human mind like that is dangerous. There’s no excuse for that,” Laura said. “He’s lucky I’m limited on this world and he’s so far away. That man needs a proper lesson in telepathic etiquette.”

Gladio smirked at her. “Don’t hold back, Laura. Tell us how you really feel.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Some of us have worked hard for centuries trying to build proper relations of trust with apaths, following very strict rules of conduct. All it takes is for one person to rip it all down and give the rest of us a bad reputation.”

“So the Six are telepathic too?” Prompto asked.

“Looks that way,” Noct said, shaking his head to make sure everything was still . . . there.

“That must’ve been what Regis meant about potential issues with allies,” Laura mused. “The gods and the old kings both seem . . . less than friendly. But there’s something more. Something they’re hiding.”

“Heads up, guys. We got shieldshears up ahead,” Gladio interrupted, pushing forward to meet the raised claws that were headed for them.

As Laura stepped back, Noct thought he heard her murmur to Ignis, “Dance with them,” but he was too busy summoning his sword and catching up with Gladio to turn back to look. He was done trying to figure those two out anyway. They’d barely spoken to each other since the night they’d burst through the door giggling, but they didn’t seem like they were fighting, either, as it seemed like the both of them were always in a good mood these days.

As he reached the combat area, he could hear Iggy calling out from behind, “Polearms and firearms, everyone. Highness, might I suggest the ice spears we picked up the other day?”

“Whatever you say, Ig,” Noct replied, changing out his weapon as the advisor pulled up beside him. “Are we ganging up or dividing and conquering?”

“I see no reason we couldn’t each pinch one for ourselves,” he said with a sniff before planting the tip of his spear in the ground and pole vaulting to land on the back of the nearest shieldshear.

Noct rolled his eyes and looked to Prompto. “Prompto, go ahead and do your thing then,” he waved over at the man, who already had his mythril pistol out and had chosen his own shieldshear to work on.

“Aww yeah, already on it, baby!” he said with a laugh as he got off his First Shot.

Noct took the shieldshear that Gladio hadn’t and warp-struck right into the thing’s face, burying his spear into what he thought was the eye, but it was hard to tell. The crab’s claws were massive, about the size of four of Noct, and much, much heavier. It was still difficult, even after all these weeks of hunting, to gather enough strength to get his blade through the tough, thick armor of the beast, but he found if he kept warp-striking, it wasn’t completely impossible. The problem was those godsdamn claws as the crab leapt into the air and somehow managed to raise their weight above its head. As it landed, the shieldshear would slam both claws down on Noct, hard, and no amount of parrying or defense could protect him from the blow.

After his second potion, Gladio called out, “Hey! Try phasing next time it does that.”

He’d forgotten about that—warp-striking being really the only power of the Crystal that he used beyond making spells and supplementing potions. Laura had been right, the Crystal’s powers were limited without the Ring, so beyond warp-striking, he preferred to rely on his steel in battle. Plus, if that thing planned on killing him like it had slowly sucked the life out of his dad, he wasn’t keen on turning to it unless necessary, so he tended to forget about the things he could use it for. Looked like he needed it now, though.

The next time his crustacean leapt at him, he started the warp-strike process and watched the world go translucent in a haze of sparkles, but instead of using it to travel anywhere, he stood as the claws passed through him. The shimmering blue of the Crystal’s magic floated around him like fireflies, and he took the moment of safety to draw in a slow, deep breath.

“Excellent, Noct!” he heard Iggy say.

The moment the claws had cleared his body, he phased back into solid matter again and buried the tip of his spear into a bloody hole he’d broke open earlier on a previous strike. The shieldshear twitched as he twisted the blade into what was probably its brain, and it collapsed to the ground with a violent shudder.

Noct staggered back to where Prompto already lay on the ground and collapsed next to him, panting.

“I could fall asleep right here,” Prompto said dreamily.

“Yeahhh,” Noct replied.

“I’ve come up with a new recipe!” Iggy exclaimed as he and Gladio gathered the meat from the corpses.

“Seriously, man? We almost just died,” Prompto said, only barely managing to lift his head from the ground to glare at him. “I needed four potions for that one crab.”

“Heh, we could taste test for ya when we get back to the hotel, Igs,” Gladio said with a smirk as Iggy pulled out his notebook.

A shadow passed over Noct’s closed eyes, and he opened them to reveal Laura standing bent over him with an amused smile.

“You all right down there?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said with a yawn. “Just tired.”

“The sooner you get up from the dirt, the sooner we can get back to the hotel, where you can get a decent night’s rest,” Iggy said.

Noct and Prompto reluctantly staggered to their feet, and the five of them continued down the narrow path that would eventually lead them to the road above their heads where the car was parked.

“Why do these old tombs have to be in the middle of nowhere?” Prompto complained.

“Cause we ain’t headin’ out to the local Pump N’ Munch for chips and beer. It’s not supposed to be convenient,” Gladio said. “They’re supposed to prove the Prince is ready to be King.”

“Indeed,” Iggy agreed.

They walked for a minute or so in silence, listening to the rushing roar of the river next to them and the sound of the wind through the trees. Noct was just taking in a deep breath of fresh air when heavy drops began falling from the sky, landing on his t-shirt with stinging splats and soaking him almost immediately. That was weird; it wasn’t even cloudy out a second ago.

“Great, now it’s raining. Is the rain supposed to prepare me to ascend too?” He held his hand out to catch the drops and watched as they seemed to bead up before sliding off his skin. As he rubbed the greenish-looking water between his fingers, he realized that it felt too oily to be water.

Prompto dropped to the ground next to him just as his brain registered the chilling burn all over the upper half of his body.

“This isn’t rain,” Noct managed before dropping to his knees, the burning on his skin and a new wave of dizziness and nausea, so soon after his telepathic attack and battle with the shieldshears, becoming too much for him to take.

“It appears to be some kind of toxin,” Ignis gasped, his hands on his knees.

Noct laid down on the ground, summoning an antidote and breaking it over himself. The ground beneath his feet stopped spinning immediately, and he looked over to see Laura lying next to Prompto, her hands shaking as she broke an antidote over his gasping chest.

“What about you?” Noct asked when Prompto had recovered and she didn’t summon another antidote.

“I can’t,” she replied, her face pale and a little green. “It’ll take care of itself in time. You’d better go handle _that_ though before it decides to do it again.”

As Iggy and Gladio pulled him to his feet, he looked in the direction she’d nodded.

“Oh man, it’s a SNAKE!” Prompto screamed, pointing. “A really, really, ridiculously huge SNAKE!”

No two ways about it, they were screwed. The snake was about fifty feet long and blocked the only path back to the road. It wasn’t like they could turn back and go another way, as the other end of the valley was just the sheer cliff face, the waterfall, and the ice cave. They were already exhausted from fighting in the tomb and the shieldshears, and this was a foe beyond them all, even at the best of times.

“I suppose we have no choice,” Iggy said with a sigh. “We can hardly wait for it to leave; it’s defending its nest and will stay to the death now that it’s seen us.”

“What’re we looking at, Iggy?” Gladio asked.

“A midgardsormr—swords, daggers, and ice. I believe we’ve already been subjected to its most effective ability.”

“Welp, no use standing around talking about it. Let’s get started,” Gladio replied, jogging out to meet the hulking coil of muscle, scales, and fangs. He leapt at the creature, summoning a greatsword just before he landed, and sliced the blade as hard as he could into the snake’s side. The midgardsormr threw its head back, hissing in pain.

“Whatcha got for me, Specs?” Noct called out to him as they ran after Gladio.

“Follow me,” he said with a sly grin, summoning his daggers and falling into a cartwheeling tumble toward the base of the writhing coil. Following suit, Noct gathered his legs beneath him for a leap, somersaulting in the air to drive his sword down right next to Iggy’s.

While Gladio spun in front of him to dodge an ice flask tossed by Prompto, Noct warped to a rest point to charge up before executing a series of warp-strikes to the snake’s head as its heavy body slithered surprisingly swiftly over the sandy soil. When Noct landed back on top of the rock, he had to summon another antidote and a hi-potion as the midgardsormr threw back its head again and spit a shower of venom over the combat area. He spared Laura a brief glance to see her standing, at least, leaning against the cliff face out of range from the poison rain, but still pale-green and trembling.

Since she looked like she was gonna be okay, Noct turned his mind away from her and examined the field, trying to figure out the best step to take. While Iggy was the strategist of the group, it was still Noct’s job to know what everyone’s abilities were and to call on them at appropriate times during the battle.

“Don’t you go quittin’ on me,” Gladio said to Iggy, placing a hand on his shoulder. Noct summoned an antidote and a hi-potion for Specs, tossing them so they broke over his back.

“How unbecoming,” Iggy complained.

“You think you got enough to do that new Overwhelm thing you do, Ig?” Noct asked.

Iggy drew to his full height, renewed by the potions, and his eyes blazed with determination. “Give it all we got!”

“Uh huh!” Noct cheered, and while the others all ganged up near the snake’s whipping tail, Noct did his best to keep the striking head and dripping fangs from attacking his team with another flurry of warp-strikes. But it reared up and dove, driving itself into the ground in response to their concentrated attack.

“Where the fuck did it go?” Gladio roared.

“I don’t know, but let us retreat while we still can,” Iggy replied.

“Right,” Noct agreed, waving toward Laura and heading toward the path to safety, but he had only taken three steps when the midgardsormr burst through the ground in front of them in a cloud of dust and a thunderous tremor. The group had to shimmy several paces back as the body of the massive snake flew high in the air and flopped to the ground with a crash that made Noct’s teeth vibrate in his head.

While Prompto hung back and took any clear shot he could with his pistols and ice spells, Gladio set to attempting to chop the writhing body in half with his sword again.

“We can turn the tide yet!” Iggy called out, and Noct sure hoped so, cause he was tired before this whole thing began, and he was about ready to lie down and take a nap, snake or no snake.

“Gladio, look out!” Prompto yelled, and Noct looked over to see the midgardsormr’s tail slam into Gladio, throwing him out of the combat area near where Laura stood bent over, panting with her hands on her knees.

“I got him,” she wheezed, summoning a hi-potion.

Noct nodded and was about to turn back to what he was doing when something slammed into him from the side with a “Highness.”

Noct didn’t have time to do a thing as he fell to the ground, looking up in the direction Iggy had come from so he could watch as the corner of the snake’s jaw closed around Iggy’s shoulder. One of its fangs, nearly as long as Iggy’s torso, drove deep into his chest, and Noct knew from the amount of blood pouring from the wound already that it had pierced his heart.

“IGNIS!”

Noct had just enough time to see Iggy’s eyes widen and his face go pale as the midgardsormr flung its head back and tossed his friend’s body like a rag across the field.

The world seemed to move in slow motion as he saw Laura collapse near where Ignis had landed, dragging the upper half of his limp body into her lap. Iggy’s face was still and completely drained of color, his lips pale-blue and his eyes closed. Time seemed to slow even further, and Noct’s world suddenly became crystal clear and in focus. He could see even from that distance that Ignis wasn’t moving; there was no longer blood pumping from the bloodied and torn hole in his friend’s chest. He couldn’t see Laura’s face, but as she bent over Iggy’s body, rocking back and forth in anguish with her arms around him, he didn’t need to see her expression to know.

Ignis, his oldest friend, the man who’d been there for him through everything, was dead.

And now that he was gone, it only took a nanosecond to realize how lost Noct _really_ was, how much he needed Iggy’s advice, friendship, and approval. Fuck, he didn’t even know where they were supposed to go after this, let alone everything else that needed to be done to get the Crystal back.

All those years. All that history together. Iggy knew more about him than anyone alive, and now that he was gone, now that he’d actually gone and given his life for Noct’s, Noct saw it all so clearly. Twenty-two years on this world, and all of it had been spent in service, living for someone else, living for _him_. There was no amount of torture a man could go through to inspire that kind of devotion. When Ignis had told him the other day that he’d always be there, Noct had still kinda believed it was because of duty, but this was too much to sacrifice on his behalf. This was love—pure and simple. Iggy had loved him as a brother, just as Noct loved him. But Iggy had gone and broken his promise; he’d gone and left him.

Laura had been right all along, and now he had no idea what to do. He’d already lost his dad and his home; he couldn’t take losing Iggy too.

How many more of his loved ones would suffer and die protecting him from his inevitable fate? There was still Gladio, Prompto, and even Luna. He’d already experienced many of the same feelings when he’d thought Luna had died in the Fall, imagining how much she had sacrificed of her life to be his Oracle, how she would no longer be there to help him through this when they’d promised that they’d be in it together. What had she even been doing in Insomnia during the Fall when they were supposed to be meeting in Altissia? What was she even doing now, and why hadn’t she waited for him in Lestallum? What did her sacrifices mean about her?

“Laura, above you!” Gladio’s voice broke over the sound of his own thoughts, and he stood frozen in shock as he watched Gladio hurl himself to where Iggy and Laura were. Gladio must’ve come back to Noct’s side after Laura had fixed him up, but Noct knew Gladio wouldn’t make it back to her in time.

The midgardsormr rounded on Laura and Iggy and struck, its enormous fangs bared and dripping with poison. Noct’s feet were still frozen to the ground as he watched Laura look up, tears streaming down her cheeks but a calm expression on her deathly pale face. She held out a palm as though to caress the serpent’s nose. When it made contact with her hand, a bright blue light shot from her hand, and a web of blue hexagonal magic burst over her and Iggy’s body like a net. The shield seemed to shimmer with spiraling scrollwork of sparkling blue frost, and as the midgardsormr came into full contact, an icy blast exploded outward, forcing Noct, Gladio, and Prompto to cover their eyes as it passed over them—unfelt, it seemed.

Something seemed to break in Noct’s head, and time seemed to reassert itself. But it was too quiet. There was only the sound of the wind blowing through the trees and rushing water over stones. When Noct was able to look up again, hoping against all hopes that what had just happened hadn’t actually happened, the crystalized corpse of the snake lay coiled around his dead brother, and his friend was lying awkwardly on her knees, limp on top of him.

“Hey! Wake up!” Noct heard Gladio roaring from what felt like far away.

Something grabbed at his jacket and shook him hard, and he looked up to see Gladio in his face, his caramel-colored eyes blazing with fear, determination, and aggression.

“Iggy needs you. We don’t got time for you to freeze up right now!”

“IGGY’S DEAD!” Noct screamed at him, finally returning to reality enough to shove Gladio off him.

“Pull yourself together, damnit! You need to give him the phoenix down before he’s dead for good.”

Fuck. He had forgotten. How could he have forgotten? In his defense, the Crownsguard he’d trained with had never needed to use it and therefore rarely mentioned it; it was most often used by the Glaives in more serious combat situations when his dad could spare the energy. But he’d received instruction from his dad on how to make them all those years ago. He should’ve remembered that, as his dad was so rarely responsible for teaching him lessons. Even Iggy had given him several lessons on them when he was helping Noct with elemental theory.

With shaking hands, he summoned his sword and warped to where the pair lay. He couldn’t think of Laura right now; there was nothing he could do for her whether she was dead or unconscious, so he did his best to push her dead weight from her protective position over Iggy’s chest to reveal the familiar, yet lifeless, features of one of his closest friends. His glasses were askew, and that light that made Iggy who he was, even in sleep, was gone. Damnit, even knowing he wouldn’t be dead in a minute, this was hard. He summoned the phoenix down, imbued it with his own magic, and pressed it to Ignis’s chest, willing it, praying to every one of the Six and anyone else that would listen, for it to work.

As he cracked the potion, Prompto fell to his knees by Laura, attempting to pull her folded legs straight, but he couldn’t seem to pick her up enough to free her legs from underneath her.

“Check her pulse,” Gladio instructed from behind him, but Noct wasn’t paying attention.

The moment the flask had broken, bright orange flames erupted over Ignis’s body, licking at his clothes, and he drew in a sharp, deep breath, his green eyes filling with phoenix fire and opening wide with terror and wonder.

“Ro—Highness?” he gasped.

“Ignis! Oh, thank gods, you’re okay!” Noct cried, flinging himself onto Iggy’s chest and squeezing him as hard as he could. Noct felt Iggy draw his arms around his back, patting gently in return.

“Yes, I’m quite all right. Thank you, Noct.”

“Don’t _ever_ do that to me again!” Noct scolded, pulling back to glare at him.

“I shall make my most sincere attempt, Highness. It certainly isn’t an experience I care to repeat if I can help it,” Iggy said, sitting up slowly, clutching at his head with a weird look on his face.

“Whoa there. You sure you’re okay to get up?” Gladio asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Your head shouldn’t be hurting at all.”

“My head is just fine. Thank you, Gladio. I’m . . . well . . . invigorated, I should say,” he said, shaking his head with wide, fiery eyes. When he noticed his glasses were nearly vertical on his face, he pulled them off and placed them back precisely where they should’ve been, bracing them on each side with both hands and giving them a little wiggle before he was fully satisfied.

“Yeah, I don’t envy you, man. End of the battle like this? You’re in for a rough night, if the stories are true,” Gladio replied.

“Mmm,” Iggy hummed, pink staining his cheeks. “Better than the alternative.”

Noct was about to ask what they were talking about when Prompto spoke.

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Iggy. The fire thing looks badass,” Prompto said in a small voice before looking at Gladio. “She’s got a pulse, but it’s like, really, really fast, and it feels like a weird rhythm.” He tapped out four beats quickly on her wrist, rested a beat, and tapped out another four.

“What’s happened to Laura?” Ignis said sharply, twisting his back around to look at the pale green figure contorted on the ground behind him.

“Oh, you know,” Prompto said with an uncomfortable laugh, “one of us gets hurt and she has to go and practically kill herself to save us. Been using her magic again.”

Iggy scrambled to his knees next to her and slid his hand under her back, lifting her just enough to pull her feet out from underneath her body and straightening her legs.

“Actually, she hasn’t,” Gladio said, leaning down to place two fingers on her neck while Iggy held her wrist. “It was advanced shit, but that was all Glaive magic.”

“She’s a mage?” Iggy asked, looking up at him. “Doesn’t surprise me in the least, I suppose, with her own native magical talent. I hadn’t given it much thought after the warping in Longwythe.”

“The King wouldn’t have given her a mage uniform just to make her look hot, even if she does,” Gladio replied with a lascivious grin.

“Time and a place, Gladio,” Iggy sighed. “She’s not even conscious to appreciate your odd brand of lewd humor.”

“You’re right. I’ll save it for later,” he said before growing serious. “I dunno what’s wrong with her though. The venom shouldn’t be making her tachycardic and arrhythmic like this.”

“Two hearts,” Iggy replied. “Her pulse feels slightly elevated, likely on account of the venom, but it’s normal otherwise.”

“She gonna be okay, guys?” Noct asked, only a little surprised Iggy knew what Laura’s pulse was supposed to feel like. He’d probably asked for all her vitals the first day she said they couldn’t use potions on her.

“I’m afraid I don’t know. If what Gladio says is true, and she used Glaive magic rather than her own, then there’s no reason I’m aware of for her to have fallen unconscious, unless the venom is at fault. The Crystal’s magic pains her but doesn’t drain her energy.”

“Uh, she made it sound like her body would take care of the venom,” Noct said.

“Then we’ll just have to wait, unfortunately,” Iggy said.

“We need to get her back to the hotel so she can rest,” Gladio said, pulling her into his arms and standing. “Let’s get going.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lore for potions confused the heck out of me, even doing research on it. I used the two quotes below from the game for the basis of my story rules, and considered "Game Over" to be permanent death for any party member, not just Noct. Yes, I realize they are alive enough to take their own phoenix downs in game, and they do come back to life on their own when the battle is finished, but that's way less dramatic.
> 
> "A talisman that takes on miraculous properties by way of Noctis's powers. Brings fallen party members back to life and increases HP and MP recovery rate."
> 
> "When Noctis's max HP falls to 0, the player has a window to use a Phoenix Down to restore him before they would get a Game Over."


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some angst and NSFW in this chapter.

Ignis was no stranger to the concept of death, even for a man of his age living a seemingly sheltered life in the Citadel. He had in fact been trained to expect it longer than anyone knew. One of his first and most recurring lessons from the age of three onward was to learn to step between the Prince and any possible oncoming danger without thought or hesitation. Though Ignis believed the practices his tutors utilized to instill such an instinct to be abhorrent, he could hardly say they were ineffective.

As such, it began around the age of four that Ignis would lie awake in bed at night, wondering what it would be like if an attempt on the Prince’s life were made, successfully taking out Ignis’s own. He imagined all the ways it could happen: spells cast, shots fired, swords drawn, knives thrown . . . a thousand different ways and how he could act to save the Prince’s life each night, growing in complexity as he grew older and after he’d met the surprisingly charming boy. Beyond the pride at having fulfilled his duty to the death, he wondered what he would feel as he died. No doubt he would be alone in the dark, cold, in immense pain, and terrified beyond any ability to reason, which honestly wasn’t that much of an escalation beyond many of the sensations of his childhood.

He hadn’t been too far off the mark, at first. Logically, he realized that the near instantaneous loss of so much blood at once was making him feel chilled, and the three-foot-long fang that had pierced his chest before his body was flung halfway across a field to flop on the unforgiving ground was likely responsible for the unimaginable pain radiating through his entire being. To his shame, the terror began to set in as his mind began to slow. He wasn’t ready to go yet; there was still so much of life he wanted to explore. Desperate, he reached out with whatever was left of him. He didn’t know what it was he reached out with because his limbs were no longer obeying his command; they were being dragged across the ground by warm hands. Still, he reached out with something, and to his immense surprise, he made contact with something that grasped him and held him tight.

“Ignis,” he heard a sob in his ears.

Rose. Of course she would be with him in death—who else? He felt her agony at his loss and echoed it back to her, regretful he couldn’t stay, couldn’t finish that beautiful potential they had started together. But the moment he’d thought it, her anguish disappeared.

 _Don’t worry about that, love,_ she said, and though he was glad to hear her call him that at least once before he died, he wished it didn’t have to be now, like this.

The moment he heard her voice, the pain, the cold, the terror disappeared completely to be replaced by warmth, light, and love— _oh Astrals_ , the love. It was no wonder she’d been called the Goddess of the Dawn, for dawn was breaking over his mindscape—eternal, gentle, warm golden light—the most incredibly beautiful sunrise he’d ever seen blossoming over his horizon like the kithairon she loved so much and filling him to the brim, spilling over so that he was overflowing with that sparkling emotion. The darkness and loneliness that had plagued him his entire life dispelled instantly as though it had never existed, replaced by that love—adoration bordering on idolization—so intense and tangible that it manifested to become visible. Oh gods, how could one even see a feeling? But it was there, and he could see it, and he wanted to bury himself in it forever and never let go.

But he was being pulled away; he didn’t have a choice. He could tell she was holding him there as long as she could, but even his goddess couldn’t reverse death. His body had been dead for either seconds or an eternity, but either way, there was nothing for his essence to return to, nowhere for him to go but the beyond.

 _Ro-_ , he began, but something cracked hard against him, somewhere, and he felt his body once again roaring, blazing to life. He raced from whatever realm he was currently in, desperate to return to his body before whatever he was now was dragged off into death. He wished he could have stayed, said more before he rushed off, but at least there would still be time to say more in the future.

And Ignis opened his eyes.

***

Gladio had laid Laura’s lifeless body across the back seat, her feet resting in Prompto’s lap and her head resting in Ignis’s. He stared blankly at her pale and still face as Noct got in the driver’s seat and started the Regalia. Had it only been this morning that they had watched the sun rise over the Disc of Cauthess after their lesson? She had been so full of life in that moment that she was bursting with it, so he had leaned in to taste it for himself.

Ignis had spent the last five days making up for lost time by kissing her as often as he could—whenever they were alone. He would never tire of kissing her—running his sensitive lips and taste buds over and in her mouth and across the soft skin of her neck, jaw, cheeks, forehead—even her hands and arms—whatever he could reach. It felt so right, so natural, expressing his affection for her this way, even if it did still seem a miracle that he was allowed to do so whenever he wished. She seemed to feel the same—as she would graze her lips and tongue over him in much the same manner, making him shiver in anticipation for where they could possibly be headed.

Of course, what he hadn’t realized at the time was that where they were headed looked too much like death. It didn’t help that in addition to her slightly green but deathly pale skin, her suit was awash with so much blood that it looked as though she’d sustained a mortal injury. As the blood was red, and therefore all his own, his logical mind knew better, but he couldn’t help but envision this as her corpse lying in his lap.

“Should we take the chance of giving her an antidote?” Prompto asked. “She still looks green.”

“No. She knew of their existence yet didn’t take one herself. Likely she thought it too dangerous for her physiology. All we can do is wait, I’m afraid,” he replied, not bothering to even glance in the younger man’s direction.

Ignis was pleased with himself for managing to hold his composure in that moment—indeed in every moment since he’d awoken—despite the magic of the phoenix down coursing through his veins. He could still see the flames surging on the corners of his vision—could feel the urge to move and strike and _live_ , but this sitting and doing nothing was in total contradiction to the call in his blood. He didn’t want to think about what was in store for him this evening. Stories from the Glaives usually involved finding relief in a battle or a bed, and he currently had neither. Even if he had the audacity to ask Rose to take that next step with him, which he believed he did, he could hardly ask her after she’d been through all this today.

“Ignis,” came a sigh from his lap, and he looked down to see Laura’s eyes crack open.

Placing a hand to the side of her neck, he murmured, “I’m here.”

“You’re all right,” she whispered.

“Yes, I’m all right. Is there anything we need to do for you, medically?”

She shook her head weakly.

“He’s gonna be okay, Laura. We were able to get him a phoenix down in time. You just rest, hear?” Gladio said, turning in the front seat to look at her.

“Fucking potions, thank gods,” she muttered, closing her eyes. “I’m sorry, Ignis.”

“What on Eos could you possibly have to be sorry about?” he asked.

“I failed you. I always fail. Miriásia, Eilendil, you.”

He didn’t know who or what Eilendil was, likely one of the people or civilizations that had died on her during one of her misadventures. How many had she had to hold as they died in her lifetime?

“You didn’t fail me,” he said harshly. “I’m still here.” And that statement was probably truer than she realized. Had she not held onto his essence for so long after his body had died, there might not have been anything left of him to reanimate.

But she hadn’t heard him, as she’d gone limp in his lap again.

“If anyone failed him today, it was me, Laura,” Gladio said, and Ignis looked up at him in surprise to see him rubbing a hand over his face.

“And what are _you_ on about?” he asked incredulously.

“You had to do my job cause I wasn’t there to do it myself,” Gladio said in a low voice.

“It was my fault,” Prompto interrupted. “If I’d been more specific when I warned Gladio, this whole thing wouldn’t’ve happened.”

Ignis opened his mouth to argue with the both of them, but snapped it shut when Noct’s voice cut through the tense atmosphere of the car. “All of you shut up. No one failed anyone because no one is dead. Do you hear me? NO ONE is dead.”

“Yes, Highness,” Ignis replied with more than a little reluctance.

After several beats of silence, Gladio turned his head to the back seat to look at Laura. “She okay?” he asked.

“She’s fallen unconscious again.”

Though Gladio put some light, cheery orchestral music on in a futile attempt to cover the macabre atmosphere, one of the suites by Mitsuda, the silence was heavy with the scent of blood and the turbulent emotions rushing through the cabin of the car all the way back to Lestallum.

The green tinge to Laura’s skin had disappeared by the time they pulled into the parking spot that evening, but she still didn’t stir when Ignis maneuvered her out of the back seat of the Regalia and into his arms.

“Here, I can take her,” Gladio said, holding his arms out.

“No, I’ve got her. Thank you, Gladio,” Ignis replied. “If you wouldn’t mind clearing a path for us?”

There was a moment of awkwardness when they arrived back at their suite in the Leville. Prompto volunteered to put the sheets on Laura’s couch, but Ignis didn’t feel comfortable enough to undress her, no matter how badly she needed cleaning up. And when he searched his own feelings on the matter, he was surprised to find he didn’t wish any of the others undressing her either. He was about to grit his teeth and summon the colder field medic side of himself when Gladio helpfully offered to fetch Lady Iris while Ignis removed her jacket and boots in the en suite.

It was only after he had tucked her into the couch with her favorite appalling blanket that Ignis allowed himself a few minutes to clean up himself. While the rest of his clothes were salvageable, his torn and blood-soaked shirt he threw into a plastic bag to bury in the bin after his shower. Fortunately, they all had several changes of their Crownsguard uniforms to replace when they grew too damaged from their many trials for him to repair.

Before he stepped under the scalding hot spray, he took a brief moment to gaze at his bare chest in the mirror and run his fingers over the spot his mortal wound no longer existed. Sighing, he decided there was no use dwelling on the matter. Stepping under the shower head, however, was an exercise in self-control, as he swore he felt every drop of water from the showerhead pelt his skin and roll down to his feet, as though he were being licked by billions of disembodied tongues. Shuddering at the horror of the image, he decided to wash quickly and forego the rest of his ritual until the morning, by which point the potion responsible for such thoughts would have worn off.

He checked on Laura one more time, finally alone in the room so he could press his lips briefly to her forehead, cheeks, and chin.

“Come back to me,” he whispered into her ear. “We have much to discuss, you and I.”

Settling into the sheets next to Noct, ignoring the pointed look from Gladio, and turning off the light, Ignis wasn’t even sure why he was going through with this charade. He couldn’t see how he was going to sleep tonight with the fire still dancing in his eyes, but it was the evening—what else could he do? The sheets beneath and over him scraped against his sensitive skin, sending tingles through his body where they touched. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he wished he could do _something_ —go for a run, spar with a man twice his size and strength, go out on a hunt and stab something.

Ignis only flinched a little when he felt something touch his arm. It took him a moment to identify the two hands and what he thought to be a face as Noct, curling into his arm as he hadn’t done since they were children.

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Specs,” Noct said so quietly that even Ignis’s currently oversensitive hearing could barely pick it up. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He couldn’t find the words in his head to identify what he was feeling, let alone the proper words to express those feelings, so he simply suffused the emotion into his voice as he placed a hand over one of Noct’s and answered, “Thank you, Noct.”

Those tutors of his should have realized—the training was unnecessary. Despite not being ready to die, he would have done it anyway, for several reasons, but most of all because he loved his brother dearly. He just wasn’t certain as to why he was still surprised to find the feeling was mutual when Noct had been trying to tell him since he’d returned from the past.

Between all the recent, life-shattering events with both Noct and Laura, he was beginning to wonder if his tutors hadn’t been wrong about everything.

“Night, Specs.”

“Sleep well, Highness.”

Ignis may have dozed for some time, because he opened his eyes to find Noct on the other side of the bed, one hand on his chest and the other flung out over the side. His pillow was misshapen and somehow missing its case. Ignis rolled his eyes. It was no wonder the boy couldn’t wake up in the morning if he was doing battle every night in his sleep. It could be worse, he supposed. At least the Prince wasn’t suffering from nightmares as he had several nights ago.

Ignis closed his eyes, attempting to stem the tide of fire that seemed to roll from his toes all the way to the top of his head. Though the sensation wasn’t as unsettling as it had been when he’d lain down, he still wanted to move, to fight, to bite, to . . . _something_. Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table, and standing, he carefully made his way in the dark to the door that led to the kitchen. If he couldn’t sleep, perhaps scrubbing the kitchen to within an inch of its life would be suitable for working the energy off.

But he stopped in the doorway when he saw Laura already there, dragging a mass of dough roughly in circles and dumping it into the last empty banneton of several on the counter. He quietly shut the door behind him and approached her.

“Are you all right?” she asked in a trembling voice, not looking up at him as she transferred the bannetons to the refrigerator.

“Yes,” he replied, somewhat puzzled by her cool greeting. He himself wanted to run to her, scoop her in his arms, and never let her go. But he rallied his composure enough to instead ask, “Are _you_ all right?”

She shut the refrigerator door roughly, and he jumped back at the sound reverberating in his ears.

“No,” she said sharply. “I’m _not_ all right. I keep forgetting this is a new world for me. I can almost convince myself I’m on Earth, until suddenly we’re whistling for giant chickens to appear from nowhere and riding off into the sunrise.”

Laura finally turned to him, and he could see that her eyes were overly large and bright with unshed tears.

“I think I know all the rules until you’re dead on the ground. Where I’m from, there’s no coming back from that.” She finally stepped toward him and curled her hands against his chest, burying her face in his neck, and he drew his arms around her back, weaving his fingers in her hair and holding her as close as he could manage without squeezing her.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she said in a hopeless voice.

This, right here, was the test, whether the two of them would make it or not. He hated to say these words, hated the thought of hurting her further after what they’d both been through today, hated the possibility that these words and her reaction to them could end everything they’d built over the last few days. But they were the truth, and they needed to be said.

“I won’t apologize for what I did.”

She jerked her head back and stared up at him, her eyes wide. Words to explain, to soften the somewhat terse delivery of his sentiments were on the tip of his tongue, but he needn’t have bothered because her reaction couldn’t have reassured him more.

“I would never ask you to. I can only hope that you would extend me the same courtesy when it’s my turn to do the same.”

And he could see by the look in her eyes that she meant it. He had died doing his duty and would gladly and unwaveringly do it again, and she wouldn’t try to stop him no matter how much they loved each other. He nodded, grateful that they were both on the same page regarding Noct’s safety.

They loved each other.

He rested his chin on top of her head, drawing her back into his body again as he stroked her back beneath the curtain of her hair. The warmth of her body sent quiet tremors of longing through his as he rocked her back and forth soothingly, closing his eyes and letting that love wash over him.

After she sighed and pressed her lips to his heart, he said in a low voice, “I felt you when I . . . when I died—in my mind.”

She went stiff in his arms. “No. I would never enter your mind without permission. You were the one in mine.”

He pulled back to look at her in shock. “How is that possible? I’m no telepath.”

She sighed and stepped back until she could sit down in the dining chair behind her, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, staring at the floor. “There are only two times when an apath can reach out beyond its own mind: when they share a permanent telepathic bond with someone and when they’re near death. You’re one of the few to actually make contact with anything because you happened to be near me when you died. I let you in and held you.” She shuddered, closing her eyes.

Ignis thought back to how very close, how very intimate it had felt being with her in that moment, and though she’d made the experience as pleasant as any mortal could hope for it to be, she still must have felt his every thought, his every fear, his mortal terror as death clutched at his identity.

“But, to be connected so thoroughly to something as it’s dying, wouldn’t that feel like dying yourself?”

He already knew the answer, having watched her wake up the morning His Majesty had died, but the look on her face in confirmation still devastated him.

“Yes,” she murmured to the floor. “It was the same with you as it was with Regis, as it is with every non-daemonized creature we kill, including the animals. The feeling is less intense if I back away from the battle, but I’m never fully spared its wrath. I can choose to disconnect with humans if I wish, but then I lose the ability to do what I did for you.”

He should have made the connection before. Holding him as he’d passed was why she’d gone unconscious, not the venom—and then combined with the pain of the death of the midgardsormr at her own hand must have been overwhelming. The state from which she’d awakened after holding His Majesty should have been enough evidence to have made it immediately apparent. And how many animals had they killed in her presence? Even after her somewhat vague explanation back at Wiz’s, the four of them still thought it was somewhat ridiculous that she wouldn’t join them in hunting. No longer.

“All this time, I thought you were just being,” he shook his head, “I don’t know, stubborn. Forgive me.”

She waved away the apology. “It’s not as though my logic is sound on the matter—avoidance of pain with a dash of principle. It’s just the best I can live with.”

Kneeling down in front of her, he stared up into her eyes, allowing everything he’d been sensing since he’d discovered her in here to wash over him—the scent of her in the air, the contours of her form, the whisper of her hair brushing against her arms and back. Dare he ask her what he’d been thinking all night? Feeling her warmth and light in his mind had been intoxicating, healing, life-changing, and he wanted nothing more in his life than to experience it again. He’d been working up the courage to ask her for days now to connect with him as she’d once implied she could, but he hadn’t yet managed to force the words to leave his throat.

“What is that potion doing to you?” she asked suddenly, placing a hand on his cheek and gazing into his fire-filled eyes in concern, no doubt taking in his flushed skin, breathlessness, and whatever oddity that was now the color of his mind.

“All my senses are on such high alert that it’s nearly overwhelming,” he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’ll be all right. Already the effects have begun to wane.”

Sitting in that library back in Insomnia, Ignis had decided that he only had one life to live, and he was going to live it—a decision that had brought him to this point in the first place. Though that decision hardly erased all the fears and doubts that plagued him even in this very moment, it was a philosophy to which he would hold true. He wanted her in his life, he decided, forever. He knew where it would immediately lead if she granted him his wish to connect with her, and he found that he wanted that as well—wanted to worship her, not as an acolyte to a goddess, but a man to a woman, even if he was still more than terrified at the prospect of doing so.

He would never get what he wanted if he didn’t ask for it.

“Rose?”

She had moved the hand that was on his cheek around to the back of his neck and was idly toying at the tips of his hair, sending tiny warm bolts of lightning down his spine. But she was still searching his face with that troubled look in her eyes.

“Yes?” she said.

“I should,” he swallowed, chiding himself for how uncertain he sounded. “If you are amenable, of course, I should very much like you to connect with my mind.”

The hand on the back of his neck stilled, and he wondered if he’d inadvertently crossed some cultural line he didn’t understand. But her gaze seemed to soften, her mouth fell open a little, and he noted that her respiration had picked up at his words.

“What did you just say?”

“Please.”

“Ignis, please understand. Nothing would bring me greater joy. But I need to know: how much of this is you asking, and how much of this is the potion?”

“I’ll admit to being more on-edge tonight, but allow me to reassure you that my judgment remains unaffected. The idea has intrigued me since I learned it was possible, even if I wasn’t in a position that night to ask for it.”

“And you’re aware of what will likely happen if I establish a connection with the both of us . . . feeling like this?”

His only surprise at her words was the implication that she was feeling similarly, so he leaned up, parting her lips with his tongue and pressing her head between his mouth and his hand, which was twisting in the hair at the base of her neck. When she moaned into his mouth and trailed her fingernails over his shoulders and up the sides of his neck to settle her hands over his jaw, he pulled back a little to gaze into her dilated eyes.

“Yes.”

When she still hesitated, he thought at first that it was because she was working on some polite way to turn him down—to say that kissing him was enough for her, thank you. But he shoved his fears aside and attempted to view the situation from her point of view—a new lover, possibly compromised by an unfamiliar potion, uncharacteristically asking to be taken to bed in a most intimate and alien fashion. He had to admit it didn’t look good, but he knew his own mind.

“Rose, trust me,” he said.

“I do,” she responded without hesitation.

“Then know that I want this—have wanted this.”

She searched his face for a long moment. “All right,” she said after a deep breath. “Is there anything you wanted to know before I begin?”

He nodded. “I have only two questions. Will the connection be permanent, and what level of access will we have to each other? I assume it’s deeper than the connection you made with Noct earlier.”

“You’re right,” she said. “This type of connection is far more intimate, but it wouldn’t be permanent. That’s a deeper connection called bonding. Tonight, I would have access to your surface thoughts and physical sensations. You would have access to mine, but to a lesser extent.”

When he furrowed his brow at her, a thousand other questions about the telepathic process springing to his mind, she seemed to become distressed and hastened to explain herself.

“Please understand, it’s not because I’m holding back or hiding anything from you. It’s just that your mind has less experience with the process. No sentient being thinks in a string of words like speech unless it’s purposeful; thoughts are a combination of words, feelings, images—even sounds and smells. Your mind will have trouble translating the onslaught of information, just as you do in our sparring sessions, so it will filter out what it doesn’t understand. I’ll try my best tonight to slow down and send you what I can, and if you decide you want to . . . do this again, you would improve just as you are in combat.”

He certainly hoped this process wouldn’t be as frustrating as their sparring sessions had been these past few days. It had turned out that the concept of all-awareness she’d first proposed back in that alleyway was far more complex than he’d first believed; she expected him to be aware of literally _everything_ happening in the vicinity of their battles and yet put forth no effort to analyze a single piece of information, including the movements of his opponent, which was absurd in his mind. And that was to say nothing of his Intuition lesson in the Greyshire Glacial Grotto earlier that afternoon. Reaching out with his “heart” to “taste the magic on the air” in order to detect daemons and allies alike seemed like an exercise in futility, even if it did distract him from the hours spent in the dark. He was beginning to wonder if the woman had a severe case of synesthesia and was simply unaware.

Still, he’d taken to meditating when he found a free moment or two these past few days to practice his awareness and sensitivity, and though he himself saw no improvements in the number of times he’d been knocked to the dirt, she claimed that he was, in fact, getting better. Perhaps his practice these past few days would improve his performance tonight.

“Then, yes. You have my permission to enter my mind, Rose. Most freely and unreservedly, please,” he said, hoping the reference would be enough to reassure her of his sincerity. He closed his eyes, his entire body palpitating with anticipation and arousal.

Ever so slowly, he felt her thumbs brush against his cheekbones. Her fingers slid against his scalp under his hair, two at his temples and two behind his ears.

“You held your hands the same way for Noct. Is there something significant about those points of the skull?” he asked, his eyes still closed.

“Gods, that mind, asking questions at a time like this,” she chuckled. “The Doctor was the one to teach me telepathy. He was half Time Lord, a race of touch telepaths that needed this close contact with the brain in order to make the connection. I don’t, but I find it makes for a good physical cue when connecting with apaths.”

“I see,” he said, attempting to suppress his opinion of what sort of species would have the pomposity to call themselves Time Lords. “Apologies, please continue.”

There was a rustle of sound and the feel of soft lips on his forehead. “Don’t ever apologize for asking questions. I do so love that inquisitive mind of yours. All right. Here I go.”

The sensation began as a slight prickling, a gentle flutter against his brain as a warm breeze through his hair. Unsure of how to respond, he embraced the feeling, hoping it was the equivalent of welcoming her in. The sensation increased until he felt his head grow heavy with the presence of someone else in his mind. Having been alone in his head his entire existence, it was a strange thrill to feel someone else in there with him—someone kind, someone that loved him. That golden light and love of hers shined through every corner, and he couldn’t help but whimper a little at the infusion of warmth that spread through his entire body like a comforting bath, soothing the tension caused by the potion and relaxing his muscles.

But that warmth seemed to settle deep in his belly, and _Astrals_ , how he wanted her. He could feel her arousal in his mind as well, a column of heat at her core that seemed to increase his own ardor, resulting in a feedback loop of aching want.

“Ohhhh, Ignis,” she breathed, and he opened his eyes to see her pupils expand so that the lapis was nearly obscured. “Your mind is so beautiful.”

He didn’t know how to respond to such a compliment, so he merely stared up at her as they breathed open-mouthed together, feeling that delicious ache and sending it back to each other, watching it grow, wondering who would be the first to break. She began stroking from his temples down to the sides of his face, tracing the curve of his jaw and back up again, and he gasped at tingling trails of electricity her touch left in its wake.

They both broke at the sound of his inhalation.

In a single movement, he stood and swooped her off the chair while she wrapped her legs around his waist. Hooking his foot around the chair leg, he slid it out of the way so he could press her up against the kitchen wall.

Their mouths met savagely. She continued to create those decadent trails of sensation down his face as he nipped at her lips, twisted his tongue with hers, and attempted to meld their mouths together until they’d truly become one. The sensation of her mind in his wasn’t as foreign as he thought it would be, as she was just as desperate to consume him as he was her.

He leaned her against the wall so he could free his hands to touch her, first gripping her wrists at his head and running his palms down her arms, then moving to her neck, across her shoulders, and down to her waist. Not having been given explicit permission for free access to her body, he kept his hands on the less provocative regions, but the spear of arousal that shot first through her and then through him told him that his objective had been achieved nevertheless.

With a gasp, she ripped her mouth from his and threw her head back against the wall. “Oh gods, Ignis, anywhere. You can touch me anywhere you like.”

While her vehement declaration was most excellent news indeed, he found he couldn’t act on it, for she had immediately swooped down to latch her hot, breathy mouth on the pulse point of his neck, making him shudder in delight. Oh gods, how on Eos could he be so fortunate? When she used the wall as leverage to wriggle against his already throbbing length, his eyes shot open as he allowed a moan to escape from the depths of his lungs and up through his throat.

“Rose.”

On instinct, he thrust against her, relishing in the feeling of her warmth against where he was craving it most. He’d never allowed himself to become this swept away before, had never completely let go of his calculating, logical mind and let his heart rule his body like this.

If this were his reward for doing so, he’d do it every day.

A sudden hammering coming from the door behind him made him step back and drop her. His instincts still on high alert from the potion, he summoned his daggers to his hands, prepared to defend her by any means necessary.

 _Easy,_ Laura said, placing a hand on his arm and stilling him.

“Hey!” Gladio yelled from behind the door. “Hot as this sounds, you mind fucking in the other room? You’re scaring the kids!”

There were no words to describe the completeness of his mortification. Dismissing his daggers, he stood there, staring at the door with his mouth open, wondering how he could possibly even begin to form a response. Fortunately, Laura stepped forward and saved him—in a manner of speaking.

“Glad you enjoyed the show, babe. Sorry guys!”

It was only her words that allowed him to unstick his feet from the floor and move.

“Come with me,” she said, taking his hand and leading him through the other door to the moonlit living room.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first ever smut, so of course it's almost 8000 words long and features a telepathic character. What the hell was I thinking?
> 
> Anyway, um . . . NSFW ahead.

As Laura shut the door behind her, she placed a hand on it. “Cánarath,” she whispered, and it flashed silver. “A small price to pay for privacy. They can leave out the door in their room if they need to.”

She turned to him, searching his face and pressing a hand against his cheek.

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We could cuddle on the couch until we fall asleep—or do more, or less . . . whatever you want. It’s not too late to find that man named Moose, you know.” The smile that spread over her lips was slow and warm at her reference.

One of these days, they wouldn’t be on the cusp of a major milestone in their relationship, and he could ask her what her obsession was with this man named Moose.

“Yes, I still want this. Please, Rose.”

“I’m glad to see that fire dying in your eyes,” she said, looking up at him. “I prefer your lovely green, and it’s reassuring to know that it’s you here with me.” She placed both her hands at the base of his t-shirt. “May I?”

Ignis closed his eyes. He knew this was going to be part of it, baring himself to her. He couldn’t recall her once ever being less than complimentary regarding his physique, but this was another matter entirely. He nodded, eager to get this over with and hopefully see that it wasn’t as awful as he was imagining it to be. At least his access to her mind would tell him the full truth.

_Yes, it will._

He kept his eyes closed as he felt his shirt being gently pulled up and over his head, her fingers brushing against his face a little as she stretched the collar over his glasses. After she had presumably laid his shirt somewhere, he began receiving her impressions. There were no words like “awkward,” “scrawny,” or “spotted;” they’d been replaced with “lithe,” “sophisticated,” and “exquisite”—the perfect balance of agile leanness and muscle. Even standing still, he was the flawless image of elegance and grace. How odd, those descriptions were what he had always thought of her.

She showed him how his fringe fell delicately into his eyes, the way his glasses accentuated the shape and intensity of his intelligent viridian gaze, and the beauty of the contrast between his thick dark lashes and the flush of his high cheekbones with his lovely pale and lightly freckled skin. Her attention focused on the bow of his perfect lips; his apparently inhumanly attractive neck and sharp jawline; his well-defined chest; his beautiful hands with their long, tapered fingers; his strong arms; the subtle contours of his abdominals and how they tapered to his narrow hips; and finally, his long, lean legs.

 _Seraphic_ , the word echoed in his mind.

“By the gods, Rose. You’re going to give me a big head,” he groaned, opening his eyes and drawing her to his chest.

“Good. Someone needs to,” she said, pulling back to smile at him and take his hand to lead him to the couch. “But it’s not just your body that I find stunning—your mind and heart are resplendent as well.”

She sat him down on the couch and straddled his lap, wrapping her hot wet mouth around his collarbone, and he lost the ability to breathe or think for a moment, panting helplessly as he stared up at the ceiling in a daze.

 _And your skin is a map of the stars,_ she said, her tongue drifting to the hollow of his throat. _I always did enjoy exploring the stars._

Underneath her words, he could hear her wondering what moron would dare even bring his complexion to his attention. He didn’t even have _that_ many freckles—no more than a handful or two. Did Prompto get teased for his vastly more freckled appearance?

“Likely not,” he gasped in response as her lips found a particularly chilling spot in the crook of his neck. “Lucian nobility is held to a different standard.”

She pulled back to glare at him. “Well any standard that makes you feel this way about yourself is stupid.”

“I daresay it’s somewhat easier for you, with your royal appearance yet not being of this world.”

“Exactly. I wasn’t raised with such ridiculous notions, and therefore you shouldn’t take them into consideration when guessing what I will and won’t find attractive.”

How had they managed to get into a discussion about Lucian beauty standards when she was sitting astride his arousal at that very moment?

“That mind of yours,” she chuckled, rocking against him and grazing her fingernails over his nipples, “added to my own makes a dangerous combination for getting distracted.”

He moved his hands to cover her hips, gripping tightly and grinding her down on him before stretching up to capture her mouth and releasing his groan of pleasure where it couldn’t be as easily heard.

He didn’t want to wait any longer; the time had come for him to perform. And though he wished for nothing more in the world to push inside her and watch her face as she came undone underneath him, he couldn’t help but feel the apprehension building in him. Would he last long enough, virgin as he was, to please her? Would he even know enough to do so?

He often used to pick up the magazines that Gladio had left lying around Noct’s apartment when he’d come over to visit, the ones with pictures of half-naked women on the cover and titles that claimed, “We Know 69 Ways to Drive Girls Wild in Bed.” Ignis would furtively flip through them as he cleaned, convincing himself that the information may indeed be useful if he ever found the time to meet someone willing to put up with him. What he’d learned in theory he’d never had the chance to use in practice, however. His only other source of information was his biology texts, and that was hardly encouraging.

Any moment now, she was going to see him for the fumbling, awkward youth he really was and pull away from him. Even if she was a woman, she was still quite literally a goddess, imbued with just as much power as the Six and condensed into this immortal-yet-mortal body resting between his palms and beneath his lips. The knowledge she must’ve had of carnal pleasures alone must have rivaled all that he knew about anything, everything. She could have had her choice of any lover in all of existence and had probably taken more than he could count, all most certainly far more capable of pleasuring her than he ever could.

She pulled away from him in that moment, glaring at him.

“Ignis Scientia. Does that constant stream of self-judgmental nonsense in your head never cease?”

 _Damn,_ he thought to himself, or obviously, not to himself. The physical sensations assaulting his body had made him forget that she was there with him in his thoughts.

Her expression softened. “First of all, I am _not_ a goddess, as I keep trying to tell you. Though I must say I’m relieved to see that awe of worship reduced to that of a lover and not a god,” she said before leaning down to capture his lips briefly.

“Secondly, I have _not_ had more lovers than you can count. If you really must know, you’re the sixth. The _sixth_ , Ignis. I hardly sleep my way around the universes.”

“I didn’t mean to imply—” he began.

“It’s more difficult for someone like me than most people think,” she interrupted him. “But if you’re willing, I’m choosing you, Ignis. I choose you for your mind . . ..” At this, she caressed his temple, and he felt the warmth of their connection within him swell. She let her fingertips drift down his cheek and neck, coming to rest on his chest. “. . . and your heart. These things are rarer than the most precious gems and cannot be taught. But I think you’re going to learn that . . . what did you call them? ‘Carnal pleasures?’ Those _can_ be taught. And _oh_ , my dearest, how much pleasure we’re both going get from teaching you.

“And as far as your concerns regarding stamina, I believe I have a suggestion, if you’re willing?”

“I’m certain I will be. What is your suggestion?”

That wicked fire of hers burned in her eyes, making Ignis’s breath catch in his lungs. Surely she couldn’t have concocted some mad adventure involving their two bodies alone, could she have?

Laura leaned in close to his ear, every heavy, hot breath spilling from her lungs caressing the over-sensitized shell.

“Right now,” she said, nipping his ear lobe, “I’m going to get off this couch, kneel between your legs, and suck your cock until you spill your seed down my throat. I’m going to swallow it all and enjoy the ever-living fuck out of myself in the process. And you, for once in your gods damned life, are going to sit back, relax, and enjoy it too. Sound good?”

Though he tried to hold it back, a breathy whimper escaped through his nose. She may as well have slapped him with the absolute filth coming from her mouth, but a dark thrill shot through his bones at her words nevertheless. The idea of her kneeling before him in such a manner was a perverse reversal of their roles that simultaneously horrified and aroused him. Would he ever have a single, simple feeling about her? But gods damnit, he’d traveled this far along the path with her; he might as well see where it led, and he couldn’t deny that her plan would be effective. He’d be less sensitive, less desperate the second time around.

He nodded. “Yes, Rose. _Please_.” It sounded too much like begging to his own ears, but at least he’d gotten his point across.

At his assent, she moved off him to kneel on the floor at his feet, her hand stroking reverently against his aching erection through his pajamas and sending tight, aching bolts licking over his entire body. He found he had to lean his head back against the couch and close his eyes to collect himself as his breath continued to come in short, wet pants. Was this truly happening to him? Or had he died after all?

She unbuttoned his pajamas and maneuvered him from his underclothes alarmingly quickly, and he opened his eyes to take in that sight—to record every nuance of the expression on her face; the feel of her mind in his; the sensation of her hot soft hand holding the base of him as she looked back up at him with her heavy-lidded and oh so heartbreakingly beautiful sapphire eyes glowing in the moonlight, just as they had that first night at the haven.

“Do you—” He swallowed. “Do you find me . . . adequate?” he asked in a choked whisper.

Without breaking eye contact, she leaned down and gently licked the bead of moisture that had seeped and gathered at the tip of him. He thought for a moment that he was going to lose consciousness from the pleasure of it all—not only from the feeling of her mouth on him for the first time, but from the feeling of her in his mind enjoying his essence.

“ _Oh_ , my word,” he breathed.

“More than adequate,” she said, nuzzling at his testicles before running her nose up the length of him. He shuddered, attempting to keep from gasping at the feel of her every breath against him.

When she reached his head, she closed her lips around him and descended, slowly, wetly, oh gods, so hot and so much pressure and he wanted to thrust himself deeper, but he forced himself to hold still, redirecting the desire into his fingers where he could grip the cushions of the couch. Would this glorious heaven be what it felt like to enter her the first time? As he disappeared between her stretched lips, he allowed himself a brief, incredulous moment to acknowledge the absurdity of this queen and goddess kneeling at his feet, servicing him. It almost felt surreal—like an out of body experience. Her mouth seemed to collapse on him in that moment, her tongue curling up to caress the underside of his head, and a tingling fire raced through his veins.

“Bloody hell, Rose,” he moaned through gritted teeth before sucking in a deep, whistling breath, and she moaned in response, sending the vibration to the very core of his being.

But it wasn’t just the sensation of her mouth on him he felt. With their connection, he could feel himself inside her mouth—the contour, the taste, the scent, the warmth of him. He could feel her sex swelling and growing slick with each pass of her tongue over his velvety skin. He could feel her hearts racing in her chest, her breathlessness, the ache in her womb. She wanted to fuck him, desperately. She was enjoying this, and this connection allowed him to know it for certain.

And here he thought he was the only creature to feel true pleasure in serving those he loved. In that very moment, he himself was overcome with the desire to do something, anything for her, so he brought his fingers to her head, running her long blue-black hair through his hands from root to tip, spreading it so it hung in a dark pool over his lap as she moved on him.

 _You are so very sweet,_ she said, pushing him to the very back of her throat, and he had to remove a hand from her head for a moment to bite the back of it. Even muffled, however, his cry was overly emphatic for this time of night.

As he had known, he didn’t last long. A few more bobs of her head and swirls of her tongue sent too much of that delicious tingling heat racing up his spine. Blocking pain from his mind was almost second nature to Ignis; he’d been doing it almost his entire life. Blocking the sensation of pleasure, of touch, of warmth and love, however—he found he was unequipped and lacking the true will to do so. Of course he’d achieved climax before in his own ordinary attempts at self-pleasure, but this was the difference between a breath of wind as compared to a roaring thunderstorm. That achingly warm, buzzing pleasure was building at the base of his testicles, tightening everything until almost the point of pain as he attempted to hold out just a little longer, but he couldn’t.

 _No one’s asking you to, Ignis. Let go_ , she whispered into his mind like a siren.

Thank gods she’d given him permission to ejaculate into her mouth because he had no idea what he would’ve done without it at this point. Even with her explicit endorsement of the idea, it still felt wrong, beyond obscene. He brought his hands from the tips of her hair to the sides of her head and threaded his fingers through her roots in a caress, desperate to say something, anything to soothe his own sensibilities.

“Forgive me,” he pleaded, and cried out, cresting a wave of bliss so intense that he felt as though it would break him. Each subsequent wave was easier to bear, but no less pleasurable, as she swallowed around each pulse as though she were attempting to milk his soul from him. When he’d finished and could no longer move, for his bones had seemingly been left elsewhere, she gave him a final lick before tucking him back in and settling back into his lap once more, pecking gently at his neck, jaw, cheeks, nose, ears—anywhere she could reach.

“I suppose,” he said through his recovering breath, “thank you would be inappropriate in this case.”

“Yep,” she said, popping the p in a puff of air against his neck.

So instead, he sent her everything he was feeling: gratitude, wonder, joy, comfort, awe, incredulity, love . . . it was too many thoughts and feelings to express in words, but at least she would hear them all.

“I will take _that_ , though. Have I told you yet how much I cherish that mind and heart of yours? I still can’t believe you’re allowing me to connect with you like this.”

“Why doesn’t it hurt, as it does when the Archaean contacts Noct?”

“Because Titan’s an ass. He’s bursting through Noctis’s natural barriers without permission and shouting with all his strength into his mind. Contact with humans requires subtlety.” She kissed him sweetly on the lips. “Gentleness.” She scraped her teeth along his jaw in his favorite spot beneath his ear. “Respect.” She licked at knot in his throat, and he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, basking in her attention as his fingers tightened around her hips.

“Mmm. You have no idea how much joy it brings me to see you enjoying yourself,” she said, peppering kisses along the other side of his jaw. “You’re just soaking it up,” she smiled into his neck and inhaled his scent, “now that I’ve got you going.”

But he did know how much joy she felt, for it was ringing in his mind like clarion bells. He wanted to know that same joy; wanted to feel the masculine pride of knowing that he was the one who had made her come undone; wanted to explore her body, cataloging every inch of her skin until he knew how to play her every note. But how should he begin?

“We could even the score a bit,” she said as she sat back and moved his hands from her hips to the hem of her t-shirt.

“Yes,” he replied on an exhale, gently pulling the hem up and over her head to reveal her body to him.

It was, as he had expected, divine—that lustrous ivory seeming to reflect a light of its own, playing on her flawless skin as though she were a statue by the finest sculptor in all of Eos sitting in an ethereal moonlit garden—a perfect balance of femininity and athleticism. Except she wasn’t in a garden, she was sitting in his lap, and he was allowed to touch her wherever he liked.

He sucked in a sharp breath as he slowly brought his hands to her breasts, cupping them, feeling the weight of them in his palms. They were perfectly proportioned to her frame, heavy enough to make her divinely feminine but not so large as to impede agility. Running his palms over her pink areolae and brushing his thumbs across her peaked nipples, he felt her zing of pleasure shoot through his mind as she moaned.

“Oh, Ignis. Now who’s giving who a big head?”

“But Rose,” he whispered reverently, skimming his hands down her taut torso to the flare of her hips and back up, “you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” She shivered and bit her lip in response, sending him another wave of arousal and adoration.

“I can see how this connection could be very useful,” he said, repeating his action, pleased when it produced the same result.

Ready to become more of a controlling force in this dynamic, he placed a hand on her shoulder, tipping her carefully to the cushions at his side before moving to hover over her. He lowered himself for a moment, shifting his body back and forth on his toes and hands, reveling in the feel of so much of her skin against his. The sensation of that velvety vibration combined with the susurrus of the friction they created nearly overwhelmed him, as he wasn’t accustomed to being touched at all, let alone feeling so much warm, soft skin everywhere at once, and as he continued to rub his body against hers, he found the feeling alarmingly addictive.

Ignis ran his nose along her throat, inhaling her sweet, pine and kithairon essence before lowering his head to suck the tip of a breast in his mouth, laving the nipple with his tongue. When he ever so gently grazed his teeth over her, she moaned his name into his shoulder. He looked up to see her almost inebriated expression.

“Yes,” he rumbled in her ear, pressing his groin, which had already begun to stir, against her sex, “please, I want to hear you.”

“Ignis,” she whimpered between heavy breaths.

Sitting back on his feet, he placed his hands at the elastic of her shorts and paused. “May I taste you, Rose?”

She exhaled forcefully, and he could feel a wave of naked, incoherent lust wash over him at the phrasing of his question alone.

“I suppose I’ll take that as a yes,” he said with a sly grin, inordinately pleased with himself to have brought her to this point without even touching her yet. As she raised her hips, he dragged both her shorts and her underwear down her shapely legs, folding them over once and placing them on the floor next to the couch. When he looked back to see her finally bared to him, he couldn’t help but sit still for a moment, drinking in the sight.

“Staggeringly beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out with a finger to part her lips and stroke her hot, wet sex.

Though the couch was generous in dimension, it was hardly long enough for them to lie end to end, so he moved to the floor to kneel, coaxing her to a more suitable angle. Drawing his nose close, he inhaled deeply, taking note of that ever-present pine floral scent combined with a sweet musk that made him ache to be inside her. Pressing two fingers against her to part her lips once more, he began by familiarizing himself with her terrain, stroking her from the outside in with small, exploratory circles, taking note of every movement or spot that made her body or mind gasp in pleasure.

He watched her face in rapture as he inserted a finger inside her for the first time, mimicking the action that he himself would soon be making, and Laura threw her head back, her eyes wide and sightless as she gasped for breath.

“Fuck _me_ , Ignis,” she groaned.

“Yes, all in good time,” he replied with a smirk.

 _Cocky bastard_ , she sent with a mental smile.

Every glide of his exploring fingers in her wet, swollen warmth increased her ache, the longing for him to be inside her, and that delicious feedback loop had begun to build his own fire once again. But he hadn’t tasted her yet. As much as he wanted to bring her to climax with his mouth, he knew he couldn’t, at least not tonight, because he wanted to know for certain that she would come on him first when they were finally joined.

Still, he could probably chance a taste or two. He lowered his nose to her sex, nuzzling at the glistening folds, and stretched his tongue out to flick at her clitoris lightly. He lapped at every part of her that he could reach, swirling his tongue through every crevice and sucking gently on every protrusion. Gods, the flavor of her—salty, sweet, musky—unique to anything he’d ever tasted.

When she moaned, he raised his eyes as best he could to see her whipping her head back and forth, sending those tendrils of pulsing need down their connection.

 _That’s it, Rose,_ he said, encouraging her to let go herself for once.

“So help me gods, if you say that you’ve come up with a new recipe, I have to say I cannot be responsible for my actions,” she warned, but he could feel the affection and amusement at her words.

That casual humor, even chatting in the middle of sex wasn’t what he was expecting, what he had envisioned for a seduction scene, but he found he enjoyed it. It seemed to take the pressure off of being suave, sensual, performing completely perfectly in every moment, so he responded in kind, chuckling and pulling back to kiss at the seam of her thigh.

“Well, now that you mention it, the flavors would pair nicely with some . . . _cock_ atrice, perhaps?”

“Ha! You did not just say that. I refuse to believe it,” she said with a laugh and another wave of affection. “Come on, stand up for me, please?”

So he stood before her as she sat up. Arresting his eyes with hers, she slowly reached for his pajamas and boxer-briefs, pulling them away and down his legs. He stood before her for a moment, looking down, completely naked and achingly erect once more.

Her eyes traveled slowly from his bare toes all the way up to his face, her mind cataloging once again everything about him that she found beautiful, and he couldn’t bring himself to even want to be bashful at her gaze as a result of her thoughts.

“I hope,” she said as she placed her hands over his hips and feathered her fingernails down to his thighs, “if I say it often enough, you’ll know it in your heart.” She bent her head to suck lightly on each of his hipbones and place a gentle kiss on the tip of his erection. “You are so very lovely.” He twitched involuntarily at the feel of her mouth on him again.

He had endured the embarrassment of preparing for this moment the other day at the chemist’s, when he’d purchased a package of condoms and raced back to the hotel to hide them in his belongings, that damned blush enflaming his face the entire way back. Of course, he’d come out here in his pajamas, hardly prepared for this sort of liaison, and he thought he might rather die than return to that bedroom to fetch them.

Reading his thoughts, she said to him, “We don’t need them unless you would insist on it—species barrier between us eliminates the requirement for things like that.”

“That’s rather fortunate,” he said with a nod, trusting her implicitly. He wished he’d know that sooner. He could have spared himself the experience at the chemist’s.

“Keep them anyway,” she said with a tongue-touched smile. “We can stick them in the Pocket. Might be good to use them when we don’t want to make a mess, yeah? Come here.” She laid back down on the couch and beckoned him to lie over her.

“Is this good? Is this what you want?” she asked when he’d settled. “Not too late to find yourself a nice, normal girl to do this with, you know,” she said with a soft smile and a touch to his cheek, and for the first time since he’d met her, he could feel for certain that tentative wave of vulnerability coming off her.

Feeling a bit incredulous being the one to reassure her for once, he replied, “’Normal’ is simply a word ordinary people use to make them feel better about themselves.” He leaned down to press his lips briefly to hers, savoring once again the overwhelming sensation of full-body contact with her skin. “You, Rose, are extraordinary, a trait I must admit I was holding out for.”

“I hope you know, you’re incredible,” she said in awe.

“Come now,” he scoffed. “I’m nothing special.”

She went still and serious, the smile fading from her face, and he froze along with her, not receiving any hints from her mind what she could be feeling.

“Ignis, you are the one of the finest examples of humanity I’ve ever seen, and that’s the truth.”

His mind stilled at her words; he couldn’t think of a single thing to say in response—until he remembered.

“Rose,” he whispered. “I love you so.”

And there it was. His one simple feeling.

The smile that spread over her face slow and bright like the dawn. “I love you, Ignis.”

“Will you do me the honor of holding me inside you?”

“Please,” she breathed.

She reached down to spread herself as he braced himself, lined up, and finally eased inside her.

Hot. She was so hot and wet and swollen and heavenly exquisite. Suddenly, the focus of his entire being was somewhere other than his mind, and he finally understood what all the fuss was about. He could feel her stretching to accommodate him as he pushed into what felt like molten, silky honey, and the further in he went, the more resistance he met. Oh gods, she felt so tight around him. He couldn’t feel any pain from her through their connection, but he faltered in his achingly slow advance, gritting his teeth against the desire to jam himself all the way in and take her. That damned potion, of which he hadn’t felt the influence since they’d connected, made itself known at the onslaught of sensation, and he found himself wanting to pin her against the couch and drive into her, bite her, dominate her as though he were some sort of barbarian.

“You could, you know, if you wanted that,” she said gently, placing a hand on his jaw and searching his eyes. “Not so much the biting, please, but the rest of it. I want this to be everything you’ve always wanted.”

“No,” he said, finally gaining enough control over himself to continue his slow and gentle advance once again. “It may be what part of me wants, but also not.”

 _I’d rather see you come under me,_ he said in his mind, unable to say the words aloud.

He shuddered when he was finally, _finally_ seated fully inside her, twitching as she clenched around him. Was that something unique to her species, or could humans do that too? Everything else about her this evening had seemed human to him, as far as he could tell. She didn’t answer aloud, but he heard her nonetheless.

“Forgive me,” he said quietly, struggling to maintain a hold of himself. “I need a moment.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Come here. Please?”

He lowered himself to his elbows over her, but she wrapped her hands around his shoulders, pulled him toward her gently, and said, “All the way.”

It felt wrong, putting his full weight on her, but as soon as he took his hands away from the couch, she let out a deep, contented sigh. They lay together in silence for several moments, breathing together, before she brought her hands to his shoulders and began running them up and down his body slowly, reverently—through his hair, across his shoulders, down his spine, a squeeze to his backside before running them back up again.

Had he been alone in his own head, he would have felt patronized, an inconvenience at this gentle coddling. But she was there with him, feeling safe, contented, loved, loving—receiving pleasure from his pleasure. She could lie like this forever because she adored him so. It allowed him to luxuriate in the feel of her hands on him, that pleasant sensation of skin against skin that he didn’t believe he would ever grow used to or tire of. But like this? As she held him inside her body, in her arms, and in her mind, they couldn’t possibly get any closer than this. Never in his life had he felt so completely and unreservedly loved. This moment right here was why he’d come back from the dead.

It was a moment humbling in its tenderness.

After a couple of minutes, he finally felt calm enough to pull back and press his lips to hers, twining their tongues together for a moment before releasing her mouth and gazing into her eyes.

 _Thank you,_ he said before withdrawing and thrusting slowly back into her.

“Oh,” she breathed, bringing her hands to his temples, intensifying the warmth of their connection. “Ignis, gods.”

He continued a slow, reverent pace, grateful that she wasn’t pushing him to move faster, as that luscious, burning pleasure threatened to take over him with every stroke. Each time he withdrew, he savored the way her sex seemed to cling to him, as though her body were enticing him to stay. He changed the angle of his thrusts, experimenting with his fingers against her clitoris until he felt her zing of pleasure through his mind. She was beginning to quake beneath him, gripping him more and more tightly with each roll of his hips, chanting his name over and over like a prayer.

And there it was—his vision made manifest: her head thrown back, her eyes closed, her mouth open as he moved in her. For the love of the Astrals, he’d seen her toy with Cor the Immortal before taking him down and holding a blade to his throat, and here she was moaning _his_ name for all the world like he was the one who was a god. He and he alone had brought her to this writhing mess of hot, breathy moans and tight, tingling pleasure echoing back in his own mind. It made him feel drunk with power.

“Please, Rose,” he growled through gritted teeth, holding back the tide from that exquisite loop of shivery heat coiling once again in his belly, “I want to watch it happen. Please, come for me.”

At his plea, her eyes slammed open and she obediently cried out on a gasp, arching into him, “Ignis!”

She had just begun to flutter around him when he could hold back the dam no longer. Sealing his mouth to hers so she could swallow his cry, he buried himself as deep as he could go before emptying inside her, those fiery waves of heat and love and pleasure carrying him off once again until they were both utterly spent. He leaned over her for minute, pressing his forehead to hers to savor the sensation of their shared afterglow before finally, regretfully, pulling out and rolling to her side as she scooted closer to the back of the couch to make room for him.

Behind his closed eyelids, he detected the flash of her magic with its accompanying whoosh of breathy wind before he felt something warm and wet being pressed against his softening member. Raising his head to look down, he saw that she’d summoned a wipe to clean him.

“Figured you’d have trouble sleeping like that,” she said shyly before dismissing the wipe and conjuring another.

“Please,” he said, wishing to care for her as much as she had him. “Allow me?”

When they were both taken care of, she reached up and pulled her blanket down from the back of the couch. Despite the blanket’s hideousness, it was rather soft and not too warm for the heat of the city. She chuckled a little at his inner commentary and pressed her lips to his forehead as he pulled her into the crook of his arm.

“Wow,” she said, looking up at him. “You look so different with your hair all the way down and mussed like that. How have you managed to hide that from me for so long?”

He raised his hand to brush her hair away from her temple. “I’m sure I look a fright.”

“You’re stunning, I told you,” she responded immediately. She reached up to run her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp, and he closed his eyes and hummed in pleasure, wondering how it was possible for him to even enjoy something so thoroughly so soon after what he’d just experienced.

There was one more thing he needed to know before this night was over. Perhaps it had been cruel of him, selfish of him to wait until they’d been together to ask this question, but after everything he’d experienced that day, he’d decided that he wanted her regardless of how she would answer. He wanted to ask aloud instead of having her hear it in his thoughts, so he kept the question veiled even to himself as he got her attention.

“Rose?”

“Hmm?”

“What will you do when this is over? You said you were a traveler, passing through. Will you leave? Go back to finding your home?”

She sighed into his neck before replying, “Let me start by saying this won’t be a bad conversation for you, but I need to pull away from your mind, love. It wouldn’t be fair of me to hear your thoughts while we have it, okay?”

“All right,” he said, understanding, but reluctant to let her go.

He could feel her retreating slowly, allowing him time to adjust, until he was suddenly alone in his head once again, the light and love fading from his mind like an afterimage. The loss of her mind in his was as though he had been given a taste of the world in three dimensions and was now being sent back to his two-dimensional world, and he found the sensation lonely and distasteful.

“I have an infinite number lifetimes at my disposal,” she began. “I could spend one with you, if you want. But it’s your decision to make, and yours alone. You could choose to leave me at any time, of course, as with any other relationship, but I would never forgive myself if you waited too late in your life to find someone who would give you everything you wanted.” She reached up to stroke his cheek as he squeezed her more tightly to his side in an effort to gain back some of that lost intimacy he was already missing.

“I need you to take the time to really think about the consequences of a long-term relationship with me. Loving me is like loving a wraith; you can never have a full life.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion and looked down at her, wondering how on Eos she could possibly come to that conclusion when she’d already filled his life so completely.

“I have no family here,” she explained, “No one to spend time with during holiday picnics or invite to special events. I can never give you a family, either—can never bear your children. Though I can alter my appearance to give the illusion of aging along with you, we won’t truly grow old together. If there is any kind of afterlife here, I won’t be able to join you.

“Also, I am bound by the laws of time, space, and dimensions. Some of your decisions are capable of creating new dimensions—lives you might have dreamed of living, paths never taken. I am forbidden from making any decision that creates a new dimension wherever I walk, as I cannot create alternate versions of myself. I may have to allow you to die in order to preserve those laws for the sake of the fabric of this universe. I’ve also committed many terrible crimes in my long life that may horrify you to learn of.”

He opened his mouth to argue with at least some of her points, but she interrupted him.

“Don’t say anything now. Just think about it. Please?”

He swallowed his arguments reluctantly and nodded, deciding it would be best to give her points more thought before he came back to her with his opinions. “The other five, did you make them the same offer?”

She shook her head. “Two of them. James, the Doctor, was with me when I discovered my immortality, so I suppose he was the first I made the offer to, and the only one I ever bonded with. It broke his heart and mine when he left me after all those years together, but for me, his love will always be worth the pain of his loss. Fond memories for me are rare, and he gave me a hundred years’ worth.

“The other was . . . well, he was an android, believe it or not.”

Ignis searched his mental database for any reference to such a word, but he could find none. He was unaccustomed to being the one in a conversation having to ask for the definition of a word, and those first few days after she’d confessed and was allowed to speak more freely were an exercise in frustration—until she’d pointed out that she didn’t know what existed and what didn’t on Eos, and it was unfair to expect him to know words and concepts from different worlds. Once she’d made that point, he’d found it only too easy to admit his ignorance when she said something unrecognizable.

“I’m afraid that’s one of your words I’m unfamiliar with.”

“A robot, then? I think I’ve heard you use the word ‘robotics’ before.”

An image swam unbidden into his mind—an MT with its hand outstretched and neck twitching unnaturally. Logically, he would assume that her choice in lover would be more benign, but he couldn’t shake the image of her lying with . . .

“Magitek?” he asked, attempting as best he could to mask the distaste in his voice.

“Oh gods, no, nothing like that,” she reassured him. “He _was_ mechanical, his brain programmed by a brilliant cyberneticist, but he was sophisticated enough to appear somewhat human and possess his own thoughts. He claimed to be incapable of any sort of emotion, but I think he was wrong about that; it was just to a much lesser degree. Data saw the world with wonder and curiosity, fascinated with everything that came naturally to humans but not to him: art, music, literature, emotion, even comedy . . . gods he was a terrible comedian.”

She said all this with that wistful smile on her face that she would sometimes get, and he realized that she must have always been rehashing fond memories when she made it. He relaxed somewhat at her description of the . . . man. Personality-wise, the android didn’t sound that different from himself.

“It sounds as though I could relate to him.”

She hummed. “You know, you probably could. You both have that same thirst for knowledge and desire to please. You both play the violin, too.”

“What happened with him?” his brain seemed to ask before he could censor himself. Of course he knew the answer, but that disrespectful lout beneath his courtesy had once again made an appearance, it seemed.

She turned her head to stare up at the ceiling, confirming his supposition. “Before he could give me an answer, he died. He was so young—was supposed to be immortal himself, in a way, and he died saving his captain—another exemplary contribution to humanity.”

“There’s no finer way to die, if you ask me, than in service to one’s liege when he is worthy of the honor,” he said significantly. They had already covered the basics of this conversation back in the kitchen, but if she had clearly spelled out her shortcomings, he thought it only fair that he do the same.

“I’m not exactly a complete person either. I too have no family at the moment, besides what you see, and I am bound to Noct first and foremost. My love and duty to him must always come before my love for you.”

She turned her head back to him and leaned forward to gently kiss his cheek. “I know that. It’s part of what I love about all of you—your devotion to each other, and it’s neither my desire nor intention to come between any of you.”

“I do have one question about the decision I have to make.”

“I would hope that you eventually have more than one,” she said with a soft smile, “but of course, ask anything you wish.”

“Would we form a telepathic bond if we were to stay together?”

It felt wrong, selfish, asking after more when she’d already given him so much, but the return of his loneliness after having spent the evening in her light had thrown into sharp relief the desire to keep her there inside him forever.

She hesitated before answering, “If you wished it, I would be more than willing. It wouldn’t be like it is now. We’d both have our own privacy, but a part of me would be with you, and you with me, at all times. It could never be undone. You’d have to be sure in your decision for the rest of your life.”

He wanted to answer her immediately, ‘Yes, bond with me this very moment and never leave my side again,’ but even he knew that it would be a most rash and unwise decision. He would wait until the heat of this moment had cooled somewhat, reflect on each of her points thoroughly, and confirm his decision then.

“Then I shall consider all you have said very carefully.”

“Take all the time you need, please,” she pleaded. “This is important. Don’t rush because you think I’m waiting on your answer. Even if it’s eighty years from now, I’ll wait for you until you tell me to go.”

He nodded again, touched by her devotion, but he knew even in that moment that it wouldn’t take him anywhere near that long. “I shall.”

“Good,” she said. “Now. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your mind prickling in thought for an hour or even longer every night before you go to sleep. I’m so glad to be able to finally ask you, would you allow me to put you to sleep immediately so you can get your rest?”

He blinked. Ignis wasn’t accustomed to getting as much sleep as his body needed, and as his hours had increased these past weeks, he found that his mind wouldn’t allow him more than four hours or so each night. He would often lie awake, unable to shut his mind off for an hour or longer before finally drifting off, and the harder he tried, the longer he would stay awake. The exercise was doubly frustrating, not only because he wasn’t getting the sleep he desired, he was also wasting his own time. Of course, he considered sleep itself a waste of time, but he couldn’t deny that his body needed it, even more so out here in the wild where he got so much exercise. But with the acceptance of her offer, it would be only too easy to convince himself it was for the sake of his duty to Noct.

“That would be most agreeable, thank you.”

As she brought her hand to the side of his head, he asked, “Would it be possible for you to also stay with me tonight?”

“You mean—in here?” she asked hesitantly, touching his temple, and he nodded.

“You . . . really want that?”

“If it pleases you and isn’t too much of a bother.”

“Gods, no, love. I’d love that,” she said, reaching up to kiss his cheek, and he turned his head to capture her lips.

“Then I’ll see you in a moment,” he said with a soft smile.

As he closed his eyes, he felt the dawn break over his mind once more and drifted into his dreams, cradled in their mutual bliss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I doubt there are any Star Trek TNG nerds reading this, but if there are, Laura was with Data in an alternate reality where he never got the emotion chip.


	29. Chapter 29

Gladio, Prompto, and Noct were all awake, showered, and dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at each other in silence. After several more moments, Gladio sighed.

“I’ll do it,” he said, standing and heading to the door that led to the kitchen.

“Wow, really going for that voyeurism award, hey big guy?” Prompto said with a chuckle.

“Hey, gotta live vicariously somehow,” Gladio said, waggling his eyebrows. “And since _you_ guys aren’t gettin’ any . . ..”

Noct stared at the floor as he left, wondering if Gladio was gonna come back with a dagger sticking out of his arm, but everything stayed quiet.

“Door’s locked,” Gladio said when he returned. “Which is pretty impressive, considering there ain’t a lock on that door. My guess is they’re both conked out still.”

“He’s okay, right?” Noct asked. “There’s no way that potion could like, go wrong or anything?”

“Heh, believe me, Iggy’s feelin’ just fine. Let’s do some of the local stuff on the list and pick up some chow. We’ll come back and see if they’re up for lunch.”

They spent the morning out and about in Lestallum, and even though Iggy and Laura weren’t with them, they still never left Noct’s thoughts as they ran the errands that would keep them in the city—from the list Iggy and Laura had put together. The good thing about the two of them not being around, however, was that there wasn’t a vegetable in sight for breakfast. Noct and Prompto got as many meat skewers as they could carry while Gladio flirted with the Cup Noodle guy to see if he could wrangle a “bulk” discount by flexing his muscles some.

Noct didn’t know if he just really wanted some Cup Noodles or if Gladio actually swung both ways, but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna ask. He was all for getting to know more about his friends, but there was such a thing as boundaries. Course, he was gonna have to decide really, really soon where those boundaries were when he got back to the hotel, and he still hadn’t worked out his own feelings about it.

Gladio had hung out with the Glaives a lot back in Insomnia, so he was the only one who knew about “phoenix down fever,” except probably Iggy. It wasn’t like his dad or Iggy would’ve covered it in their lessons with him. When Gladio’d told them about it after shooing Iggy and Laura from the kitchen, it made sense. Noct had never heard Iggy raise his voice for anything except in battle. Even when he spoke sharply—fuck, even when he died, he’d always kept his volume low. So a potion was the only explanation for him making noises like _that_. At first, Noct hadn’t even recognized it as his voice; he’d sounded . . . animalistic almost.

He shuddered.

It was almost lunchtime when they reached the door to their suite—the door to the living room— and hesitated. Noct looked at Gladio and Prompto.

“You think they’re awake by now?”

“Probably,” Prompto said. “They both get up really early. I’m kinda shocked they were still asleep this morning, even with,” he waved a vague hand in the air, “everything.”

“I’m not,” Gladio snorted. “Still. Better knock first. I think Iggy would die of embarrassment if we saw anything ‘improper.’”

Noct rapped his knuckles on the door, feeling weird that this was even necessary. This was _Ignis_ for gods’ sakes; the guy was _always_ decent—until last night.

He heard Iggy’s soft, accented, “It’s open,” which was also really out of character for him. Even if the door were open, the Specs from Insomnia would have greeted them at the door, ushered them inside, insisted they take off their shoes, and brought them a tray of snacks. Noct was more than fine with the change. Not only could he could open his own door, but maybe it meant Iggy was finally relaxing a bit—letting go of the uptight, obsessive guy he used to be. Didn’t mean it wasn’t kinda shocking to see it happen though.

The room was, of course, immaculate, containing no evidence of anything out of the perfectly ordinary having happened. Iggy was sitting in an armchair, his legs crossed and a book in his lap. His expression seemed calm and composed as his eyes danced over the page, except for the blush staining his cheeks.

Ever since they were kids, that blush of his always had gotten the both of them into trouble. Any lie Noct would try to tell, and all the adults would have to do was look at Iggy, so Noct had taken to not telling him about his plans to do stuff, like sneak out of the Citadel at night, until it was actually happening. He’d gotten better at controlling it over the years, and fuck—he just realized why, but the personal stuff still seemed to bring it out in him.

“Heyyyy Iggy,” Gladio crowed, slapping him on the shoulder. “Sleep well?”

“Yes, in fact, I did,” he said smoothly, using a single finger to push his glasses carefully up his nose. “It seems there is nothing better for a good night’s sleep than a near-death experience.” He turned a page.

Noct sighed, unsurprised at his reaction. Iggy always pretended things hadn’t happened when he didn’t wanna talk about them. But since this wasn’t a traumatic experience—Noct didn’t think—he was delusional if he really thought the other two weren’t gonna force it out of him, or at least tease the crap out of him. Iggy was always gentle about it when the guys teased Noct about Luna, so Noct planned to go easy on him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a little ribbing coming his way.

“Your book’s upside down,” Noct said in a low voice as they all took their seats. Iggy nodded in thanks and surreptitiously flipped it over. He must’ve just sat down, which meant that Laura was probably nearby.

“Where’s Laura?” he asked.

“She’s in the kitchen making tea and fresh bread for us to use for sandwiches.”

“So . . . how was it?” Prompto cut to the chase.

“Yeah, gotta know how that potion worked out for yah,” Gladio said with a grin.

Iggy looked up from his book with a well-practiced, indifferent expression. “I beg your pardon?”

Gladio leaned over from the other armchair and gave him a little push on the shoulder. “If ya need any pointers for next time, just ask,” he said with a wink. “Gotta million of ‘em.”

“Dude! You slept with like, a real-life goddess. That’s like saying you got to sleep with Shiva herself! You gotta tell us _something_!” Prompto whined.

“I agree. Not every day a guy lands a girl like that,” Gladio said.

“Sorry, Specs. You’re nuts if you think we’re not gonna talk about this. That kinda stuff only happens on TV,” Noct said more quietly.

Iggy, for his part, still had that aloof expression on his face that reminded Noct of their days back at the Citadel, but his nostrils were flaring a little and that blush was starting to deepen. His continued silence definitely wasn’t stopping Prompto and Gladio from their enthusiastic commentary, though.

“Oh yeah, and she’s an alien too, right? Does she even have . . . you know, lady parts?” Prompto asked with a grimace, making some kinda gesture in the air that Noct didn’t even _want_ to know what it was supposed to refer to.

Gladio didn’t even give Iggy a chance to respond, not that he was going to do anything but lift his chin a little higher—and maybe clench his jaw a little. “Well, she musta had some kinda lady parts as much as she was calling out his name last night. Shut the windows next time, Iggy.”

“Ha ha! Name ‘Ignis’ is probably gonna be the most famed in Lestallum among the lay-deez now,” Prompto said, bobbing his head.

“Better start usin’ an alias while you’re here, otherwise you’re gonna be beatin’ ‘em back with a stick,” Gladio smirked.

“Did she do anything alien? Ooh, does she have tentacles?” Prompto asked, and at these words, Ignis finally lost his composure enough to choke on his own breath, pulling out a handkerchief to cough delicately into it. Noct sincerely hoped that his reaction didn’t mean Prompto had hit too close to home, but again, no way in hell was he gonna ask.

There was a moment of silence before Gladio spoke, shaking his head, “What the fuck, man.”

“What? It’s possible!”

“Prom, you’re twisted,” Noct laughed. “No more ‘manga’ for you.”

That poise Specs was so famous for was beginning to slip as he started shaking his head back and forth in tiny jerks.

“I . . . I refuse to dignify any of . . . _this_ with any sort of response,” he stammered.

Noct had decided that was enough. He was starting to get the sense that Iggy was more sensitive about stuff than he let on, and he’d already been through enough in recent weeks, particularly yesterday.

“Just . . . tell us you’re happy,” Noct said. “Tell us anything.”

Iggy closed his eyes for a second and sighed. Looking down at his hands folded over his book, he said quietly, “I _am_ happy. It was . . . a good thing that happened.”

His response was more of a relief to Noct than he expected it would be. Whether or not they continued with their little fling, he would’ve hated to think that Specs had lost his virginity against his will cause he was doped up on a potion and ended up regretting it.

“Wow,” Prompto sighed dramatically. “It’s just so . . . romantic. The Queen and the Chamberlain—if we’re real-life RPG characters, that’s a fanfiction waiting to happen, complete with a sex pollen subplot!”

“All right, you guys,” Noct said when Iggy’s face had almost turned purple, “head into the kitchen and torture Laura for a sec. You’d better hope she hasn’t heard you and isn’t planning your murder in there. I gotta talk to Iggy,” Noct said.

Ignis’s eyes followed the other two as they stood and walked to the kitchen door, Prompto looking a little pale.

When it had shut behind them, he looked back at Noct. “Highness?”

Iggy was probably the second of his friends to lose his virginity, at least Noct thought. He was pretty sure Gladio wasn’t a virgin, with the way he acted around people, but they hadn’t been close enough when it had probably happened. Noct had fooled around a little once in Twelfth Year, but after she’d gone around school the next day talking about how she’d bagged the Prince and Iggy’d had to do whatever he did to put a lid on her, he’d decided there was no way he was gonna go through that again. It just wasn’t worth the hassle. Plus, there was still the possibility of him and Luna. She’d never do that to him.

And Prompto—he was pretty sure Prompto just didn’t have the confidence to go out and find someone. Noct could see him pining after Cindy for the rest of his life if something didn’t change. He’d tried to push Prompto to say something that day they’d managed to get a photo op with her, but he never did, and maybe never would.

He’d always thought Specs would be the last of them to pair off, if at all, with his stuffy, overbearing perfectionism and oppressive work schedule. For all the time Noct and Iggy had spent together in their lives, Noct couldn’t even tell if he’d been into guys or girls or no one at all. Noct only knew he was a virgin because Noct had directly asked him after the whole Twelfth Year incident, and he’d reluctantly stammered that he was. But now that he’d done it, whether it was a one-night stand or not, Noct didn’t know what to think about part of Iggy belonging to someone else—whether that was Laura or anyone else he hooked up with in the future.

But there was still something nagging at him about all this. He’d known Iggy for sixteen years and had never seen him show even a hint of interest in anyone. Not that Noct had always been the most observant spectator in Iggy’s life, but even if he had somehow missed out on a dating Specs in the last couple of years, it didn’t explain how a month after meeting her, he was having sex with an alien in the kitchen.

“Listen, I’m not gonna rag on ya. I just wanna make sure you’re okay, Specs. This is all so sudden and so unlike you.”

Iggy still didn’t meet his eyes as he spoke, which didn’t concern Noct, as it seemed he never could look anyone in the eyes when someone forced personal stuff out of him. Much as he hated to get up in Iggy’s business when he was such a private guy, he’d learned his lesson about not asking questions, about not noticing, and it was his responsibility to look after his friends as much as they looked after him. He’d made a promise to the very woman he was asking about, after all.

“I assure you that nothing sinister is happening here. I am fully cognizant of my actions, as well as how they may seem out of my ordinary custom. And I must offer my most sincere apologies that our behavior may have disturbed the group’s rest.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said, waving away the apology. “Just . . . be careful, ‘kay? If you guys start fighting or get distracted or something out here, it could get you killed . . . again.”

“I understand, Highness. If you so command, I’ll end things with her immediately,” he said, looking up and meeting Noct’s eyes.

If there were ‘things’ to end, then it sounded like he was planning on continuing whatever this was, but he couldn’t be too serious about the relationship if he was offering to let her go so easily. Still, Noct thought he’d finally found his boundary to set.

“Let’s make one thing clear, Ig. You’re always gonna do your job well. So your love life? Not really my business if you don’t wanna share. You do what you want—with Laura, with anyone—and don’t think you have to ask my permission, okay?"

“Thank you, Highness,” he said in a low voice, looking back down at his lap.

“Hey, also . . . I never thanked you—you know, for what you did yesterday,” Noct said.

Iggy’s brow furrowed as his gaze shot back to his face. “Nor should you. We all do what must be done in these dark times. And—” he hesitated, swallowing. “I had other reasons.”

“I know,” Noct replied immediately, and he did know. But that didn’t mean they were both gonna start crying, pull each other into a hug, and talk about their feelings. “Doesn’t mean I can’t tell you I appreciate it.”

He would always hate that his friends would have to make these sacrifices for him, but that damn prophecy made it so he would have to be the one to make it to the end, not necessarily them. He didn’t like not having control over the situation, didn’t like that the only family he had left in the world were responsible for jumping between him and death until the prophecy was fulfilled. There _was_ one thing he could control, however, in order to make sure they were all alive when this was over. Himself.

“Hey Specs? You think you could refresh me on some of my old lessons?”

Iggy’s eyes widened a fraction. “Well, perhaps I did die after all,” he said, and the corner of his lips raised in a small smile. “Out of morbid curiosity, where is this sudden desire for additional schooling coming from?”

Noct smiled a little in return. He loved playing this game with Specs—when he was awake enough to do it. They’d started it as kids and never really seemed to stop. Of course, Iggy always was better at it than he was. “Come on, I’m dead serious. I keep forgetting stuff I can do, like the phasing and the phoenix downs and stuff.”

“I’m dying to see how you would react to my proposal that we begin lessons just after dawn, after Laura and I forage and spar in the mornings.”

“No way,” Noct said, too horrified to even think of a pun. “It doesn’t even have to be every day. Just . . . when we get the chance.”

Iggy smirked at him. “In over your head with me, I see. Very well, you never were a mourning person anyway. We’ll fit them in as the schedule allows, shall we?”

“Thanks, Ig.”

“My pleasure as always, Highness.”

They joined everyone in the kitchen afterwards, but the space was too crowded to eat with the five of them, so they all moved back into the living room after Iggy had assembled four multi-meat sandwiches. Laura stayed behind for a minute to finish the Bi Luo Chun black tea she was making and put some nasty looking green goo on her bread, which she called ‘avocado.’

When they’d finished eating, they all stood to bring their dishes into the kitchen. It was hard work, subtly taking over little parts of chores without Iggy noticing. They’d all started with something small, like taking their own plates to the washing area or combining one load of laundry a week between the three of them so there was that much less to do. Gladio and Noct had had to stage an entire conversation about Noct’s newfound interest in blade sharpening techniques. From the looks Laura gave them, she knew exactly what they were all doing but approved. And Iggy was still allowing her to openly help him out with stuff. Even though they hadn’t freed up much of his time yet, they’d all caught him doing stuff over the last few days they’d never seen him do before, like meditating of all things. 

“We need to get going soon. We gotta take care of this Titan thing today—at least get there,” Gladio said before draining his teacup and placing it next to the sink. “Damn good stuff, like liquid sweet potatoes. You sure you don’t want to open a tea shop with me when this is over, Princess?”

She smiled as she took her place next to Iggy in front of the sink and said, “You think that’s good, I’ve got some stuff that’s like candied yams, I swear. I haven’t decided what I’m doing after all this yet, but that’s a possibility.”

Noct, Gladio, and Prompto all turned to look at the back of Iggy’s head to see his reaction, but he seemed completely unfazed by her implication that she might leave when this was all over. He just kept washing the dishes—definitely a casual relationship then—weird. He didn’t figure Specs for the casual fuck buddies thing, but the way they stood next to each other as they worked, Noct couldn’t see even a subtle, Ignis-level hint that they were into each other. It was like—they seemed to have been _more_ touchy-feely before they got together. Noct didn’t think he’d ever understand it, so he decided to stop trying.

“Hey, why don’t we go check out the Disc through those viewer things on the Outlook?” Prompto suggested from his seat at the kitchen table as he bounced his leg up and down.

“It’s no substitution for the real thing, but it’s a start,” Iggy said.

After Iggy and Laura had finished the dishes, they all made their way to the Outlook, and Noct was finally starting to feel good with everyone alive, happy, and together. It was Iggy who said something that first broke the mood.

“What’s wrong?” Noct heard him ask in that clipped tone that let Noct know something was definitely wrong without the other person even having to answer.

Noct looked up to see Laura move away from Iggy and closer to him, her gait suddenly ambling and playful.

“You’ll find out in a second,” she muttered in a serious tone, completely in opposition with the way she was walking. “Seems there’s no stopping this meeting whatever we do, so we might as well let it happen.”

Noct was surprised to find the creepy stranger waiting for them when they reached the viewfinders, but not that Laura knew he’d been waiting there. He remembered that she’d been really weird and overprotective the last time they’d met in Galdin. It’d stood out so well in his memory because Laura was always really, super friendly with most strangers. But they knew so much more about Laura now, and he wondered if there was something about the weirdo’s mind that she hadn’t been able to tell them last time.

“What a coincidence!” the stranger said with a merry wave, and Noct thought he recognized that fake cheer from when Laura was trying to get little Iggy to trust her back in Keycatrich. Of course, they all knew and trusted Laura now, but this guy was a different story. Is that what he thought of them? Little kids he could make trust him?

“I’m not so sure it is,” Gladio said, narrowing his eyes.

“Aren’t nursery rhymes curious things?” the stranger asked, ignoring Gladio’s remark and giving them all an oily smile before looking out to the Disc. “Like this one: ‘From the deep, the Archaean calls, yet on deaf ears the gods’ tongue falls, the King made to kneel, in pain, he crawls.’”

He turned from the Disc as he recited his little poem, casually sashaying up to Gladio, then Iggy, then Prompto and rolling his head in their faces to inspect them closely. As he got to the part about the King crawling, he stopped in front of Noct, his burgundy hair shining oddly in the afternoon light and his tawny eyes glittering with some kinda personal message Noct couldn’t understand.

“I’m actually doin’ just fine; thanks for the concern,” Noct said, glaring back at him.

If Noct hadn’t had so much experience reading Iggy’s subtle facial expressions, he might have missed the way the man’s eyes widened a fraction.

“Is that so?” he said, turning his head to Laura, who was standing casually a little to his right and slightly in front of him. “It must be divine intervention then, what a chilling thrill for you.”

It seemed they weren’t the only ones that thought Laura was a god. Noct wondered how he’d figured it out in seconds when they’d been with her for two weeks without knowing.

“Still,” he said suddenly after a long pause, whipping his head back to Noct. “You should heed the call. Visit the Archaean and hear his plea.”

He ambled out to the edge of the Outlook before doing a dramatic turn back to them.

“I can take you,” he offered.

Noct gathered the group around them to discuss what they were gonna do, but he noticed Laura hadn’t stood with them. He looked over in her direction.

“That’s a really tempting offer,” Laura drawled, placing her hands behind her back and nonchalantly strolling to the edge of the Outlook really close to the man, looking out over the wall. “And would you taking us there have any benefit over say . . .” she whipped her head at the stranger, “a map? Cause, gotta tell ya, we already got one-a thossssse.” She held out the last word for what was probably the most awkward three seconds in existence before opening her mouth wide, then clicking her teeth shut violently before giving him an almost feral grin.

What kind of game was she playing? Was she mocking the creep? If she was trying to win some kinda weirdo contest between the two of them, she was succeeding. The creep looked her up and down before smiling widely.

“I may not look like much, but I do have some influence to get you inside,” the man said, fluttering a hand over his heart as though she’d hurt his feelings.

“That certainly doesn’t inspire much confidence, as the area has been blockaded by the Empire,” Iggy muttered, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, what say you boys?” the stranger asked, apparently not interested in Laura’s opinion.

“So—we in?” Gladio asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t know,” Noct said doubtfully.

“So . . . we could take a ride,” Prompto said.

“But watch our backs,” Gladio finished.

“Fair enough,” Iggy agreed.

The four of them looked to Laura, who glared up at the stranger before grinning like a nutcase.

“Whaaat?” she asked mockingly. “Following a creepy stranger who happens to be in the right place at the right time everywhere we go and seems to be inordinately interested in the travel plans he somehow already knows about, thinks you’re the King, and wants to take you across Eos to go and visit a god that’s been attacking you, who happens to be located on a new Imperial base? Definitely not a trap of any sort! Let’s do it!” She said all this really, really fast in a sing-song voice, tilting her head back and forth. She must’ve had some kind of alien lung capacity, because even really fast, Noct couldn’t see how she’d managed to get it all out in one breath.

“I do so admire your sense of adventure, my dear,” the stranger oozed, leaning down to stroke the back of his finger against her cheek, but he had to pull away quickly as Laura leaned out to bite him, her teeth snapping around empty air. Prompto pretended to choke to cover up his giggle, and even Noct had to look down at the ground to hide his smile, even if he didn’t know what she was up to.

“Oh, you have _no_ idea,” she said almost seductively, leaning toward the stranger with a grin.

The stranger raised his eyebrows delicately at her before turning toward the parking lot, saying. “I’m not one to stand on ceremony, but such an occasion calls for an introduction. Please, call me ‘Ardyn.’”

He led them back to where his car was parked, which happened to be a couple of spaces down from the Regalia. After insisting that Noct drive for some reason, which Noct was fine with, they all got into the car.

As soon as everyone had shut the door, Laura said in a low, serious voice, “Leave the top up.”

“You want to tell us what the hell that was all about?” Noct asked.

“Not until we’ve gotten underway.”

After Ardyn had stopped him in the middle of the road just outside of town to give him a list of driving rules, they were finally able to get up to full speed.

Gladio spoke first, “Way too convenient to be a coincidence, him being in Galdin and Lestallum; my reckon he’s following us around.”

“But to what end? That question bothers me deeply, as does his origin,” Ignis replied.

“Hard for me to picture that guy in the Empire,” Prompto said, scratching the back of his neck.

“But it’s even harder to imagine him as a Lucian,” Gladio shot back.

 Noct saw Gladio turn to the back seat, probably to look at Laura.

“Your turn Princess, you wanna tell us what the nutjob act was back there?”

Noct heard Laura huff a sigh. “Let’s start with who he is, and I’ll circle around to that. I don’t know. I don’t know who he is or where he comes from, but he’s dangerous.”

“How do you mean? How do you know?” Noct asked, looking in the rearview mirror.

“He’s immortal. We immortals tend to recognize each other on sight. Something about the look behind the eyes, something indefinable about the aura.”

“So . . . does that mean he knows you’re immortal too then?” Prompto asked.

“Yeah, pretty much. His interest in you is piqued even more because I’m with you guys, though it doesn’t really matter because he already seems to know everything about you all. I’m the only one he seemed to find surprising.”

“Though I’m inclined to agree with you about his being potentially dangerous, his immortality doesn’t necessarily implicate him as such. How do we know he isn’t a Messenger of one of the Six?” Iggy asked. “Particularly considering that the Archaean is already involved.”

“Because his mind is filthy with Starscourge,” she replied. “It has been since the day we met him, and he hasn’t succumbed. I can’t even get a mental expression off him beyond that.”

“And what does that mean for us?” Iggy asked.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know. It’s possible he was infected but is immune for some reason related to his immortality? There are too many questions.”

“Can you tell if he’s telepathic?” Gladio asked.

“He isn’t. I would’ve known immediately.”

“And your strategy behind acting like a madwoman?” Iggy asked. “I must say even I couldn’t discern what you hoped to gain from your tactics. He seems even more interested in you now.”

“I have news for you, Ignis, he was going to be interested no matter what I said or did. But the strategy is called a persona, and you can bet his is as fake as mine—so about seventy percent fake then. People like us have to develop them over the years, for many reasons.”

“So how fake are the ones we see of you every day?” Noct asked, probably a little too pointedly. As much as he did really consider her a friend, he’d seen her put on and take off too many masks in the month they’d known her, since the first day when she’d started doing the accent switching thing with all the people in Hammerhead. And now that she and Iggy were doing whatever, he wasn’t sure which girl was the one Iggy’d taken an interest in—and whether or not she was even real.

Laura’s voice grew cold when she answered, “That’s a far more complex question than you even know, but the short answer is just as fake or real as all of yours are. Or are you telling me you _don’t_ try to channel your father when you’re afraid, when you feel like everyone’s looking to you and you don’t know what to do?”

“Laura,” Noct heard Iggy chastise in a soft voice.

“No, she’s right, Specs,” Noct said.

And she _was_ right. The guys had been looking to him more and more to make decisions, and the truth was he often didn’t know better than any of them. Even Laura didn’t just take him by the hand and drag him off places; she expected him to take charge, and it was often scary as hell because he didn’t want to be the one responsible when shit went wrong. So here lately, he’d been thinking of his dad when stuff like this came up. What would he have done? Which member of the retinue would he have asked for advice? How would he have acted?

He hadn’t thought about it in that way, but his dad was his persona. Since Laura was much, much older than all of them and had been through a lot more, she’d probably had to collect dozens over her lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, glancing up in the rearview mirror at her.

Her tone was softer when she answered, “I told you the night of the Fall, everything you’ve seen from me has been the truth; I wanted you all to know me. But for this guy? I’m willing to play the mad psychopath for a day.”

“Hate to break it to ya, Princess, but that’s a part you play _every_ day,” Gladio said, smirking toward the back seat.

“A badge I’ll wear proudly. Thanks, babe,” she said, reaching forward to punch him on the shoulder. “Anyway, I believe that so long as our goals remain the same, he’ll continue to help us. The moment our objectives diverge, who knows?”

“And since we don’t know what his goals are, we’ve no way of knowing when he will transform from friend to foe,” Ignis replied.

“Exactly.”

They thought they were stopping for gas when Ardyn pulled over at the next Coernix station—long before they were due to arrive at Cauthess—but he had other ideas.

“What say we call it a day here?” he asked when they got out.

“ _What_ say we continue on to Cauthess?” Gladio argued, glaring at him.

But he insisted that he wouldn’t take them any further and that they were all to stay together that night in the caravan. 

“Camping . . . with Ardyn . . . great!” Prompto said sarcastically.

“I don’t like this,” Laura said through gritted teeth as Ardyn strutted to the station to pay for the camper.

“I’ve met some weirdos . . .,” Gladio began, but didn’t finish.

Iggy’s lips tightened before answering, “Yes, and I do hope this is the last time we meet this one.”

“Whoa, little harsh there don’t ya think? Guy really knew his stuff about nursery rhymes, and he is helping us out,” Prompto said, raising a finger.

“As much as I love your trusting nature, Prompto, you need to learn that villains who twirl their moustaches are easy to spot. Those who clothe themselves in good deeds are well-camouflaged,” Laura said, glaring through the glass front of the shop.

Prompto looked over at her, frowning. “You get that from a book or somethin’?”

“Yeah,” she said with a faraway look, “something like that.”

Prompto ruffled the back of his hair a little and grimaced at the pavement. “Yyyyeah, but see? If we went by that advice, you might not be here with us.”

“True, but that’s when you need to apply a fine-honed sense of intuition,” she said, glancing at Iggy quickly, then back to Ardyn, who was approaching them again. Seemed the free conversation part of the night was over.

The evening they spent was the very picture of awkwardness, with Ardyn asking them seemingly casual questions and each of them taking turns deflecting him. Perhaps it was because of his newly minted relationship with Laura, but Noct thought that Specs seemed especially suspicious of the man, choosing to lean against the side of the camper and glare with his arms crossed over his chest rather than join them all at the table. Laura, too, seemed on edge at Ardyn’s inability to sit down, so she sat poised and silent next to Prompto all evening.

It wasn’t like Noct trusted the guy or anything; he’d been on high alert ever since he appeared on the Outlook. But it seemed like maybe Iggy and Laura were overreacting just a little. Of course Noct didn’t trust Prompto’s instincts; best friends though they were, he was a little too trusting, even if Ardyn did seem to make him a little uncomfortable when he leaned in like he was gonna touch his face as he had with Laura. But Gladio. He trusted Gladio’s opinion, and while Gladio sure as hell didn’t trust the guy, he was comfortable enough to sit down on the other side of the table, relax with his elbows on his knees, and chat comfortably about unimportant stuff.

Ardyn was creepy, sure, and maybe he was immortal. But Laura was her own brand of creepy and also happened to be immortal. What if the Starscourge thing wasn’t his fault, just like the wrongness thing hadn’t been Laura’s? If they were the kinda guys to make snap judgments about people, Laura would’ve ended up beheaded their first day out of the city, and definitely the night Insomnia fell—assuming she would’ve let them, that is.

Then again, Specs was hardly ever wrong about anything, and the same could be said for Laura. He just didn’t know anymore. He decided it would be best just to stay on guard and let things play out.

It was weird choosing bunks that night. Noct took his usual top bunk, but Ardyn swooped in and took the lower bunk on the other side, the one that Gladio usually preferred because it gave him the best tactical position for defending him if the need ever arose. At the change in habit, everyone tried their best not to look at Laura for advice, but it was obvious even to Noct that everyone was waiting for her to choose next. She shrugged, placed a foot on the corner of Ardyn’s mattress, and leapt lightly to the bunk above.

"Might as well be the one to volunteer, since I don't think any of _these_ guys wanna sleep with you!” she said with a merry laugh.

While Iggy and Prompto took the beds on the back wall of the camper and Gladio took the bunk beneath his, he could see Laura moving her hands, miming a message to them all: _You sleep; I’ll keep watch._

“More’s the pity,” Ardyn sighed, folding his fingers over his middle. “Still, I imagine a night spent with you will be a divine experience as well.”

It took everything Noct had in him not to look to Iggy to see his reaction to the creep’s words, but then he remembered Specs was a master of keeping a straight face anyway when the stakes were this high. He kept his eyes trained on Laura and Ardyn as they continued to trade their strange dialogue.  

“It would be a miscalculation on your part to make any assumptions,” she said significantly, kneeling up on the bed and reaching over to the wall to switch the light off.  

“Oh, but I’ve been around the block, my dear—as have you, I believe. Rumor last had you in Tenebrae—in a different form, of course.”

“Dude,” Prompto interrupted whatever little game the two of them were playing, and Noct was surprised to hear how upset he sounded. “Did you just call her a slut?”

“I?” Ardyn said in surprise. “A gentleman would never say such a thing of a lady. I have a, shall we say, everlasting respect for the fairer sex. I am certain your dear friend is as pure as the driven snow.”

No one replied to his final statement, and even though Noct desperately wanted to beat his pillow into a more comfortable shape, he refrained, as the oppressive silence would make any sound seem like a gunshot in the little tin can house.

“Really, my dear,” Ardyn purred after about ten minutes of the silence, and Noct flinched a little at the sudden sound. “Are you going to stay up all night just to watch _me_? I hardly warrant the attention, I assure you.”

“I’m a soldier—a bodyguard. It’s what I do,” she replied in a hard voice, and Noct wondered why she’d decided to change her persona so suddenly. To anyone who didn’t already know her, it sounded like she had multiple personalities.

“Let’s not outright lie to one another, shall we?” Ardyn oozed, but there was an edge to his voice that made Noct wonder what nerve Laura had just hit. “You are no more a soldier than I am a man of no consequence.”

“Now we’re gettin’ somewhere. You wanna tell us who you are then?” Gladio asked.

“Will our delectable little retainer be telling me who she is? I’m positively shivering to know, and I believe it’s more than fair. After all, my identity would probably be more of a surprise to you all than hers would be to me.”

She snorted. “I doubt that.” In the dark, Noct could just barely make out that she had hung her head over the side of the bed, her long hair hanging down almost all the way to where Ardyn lay. He could even hear the crazy grin in her voice as she said, “But if it’s my name you want, I’m Laura! Hello!”

“Very well then,” Ardyn said with a long-suffering sigh. “If you won’t tell me, then at least leave me some semblance of dramatics, I beg of you.”

“I can do that!” she said, whipping her hair back up to sit back up cross-legged on the bed. “Mind you, I knew a Chief Dramatist once, and let me just say, things didn’t work out so well for him. Actually, that’s a bit of an understatement. Anyway! Good evening to you.”

“Good night, my dear,” he said with another fake sigh. “Mine shan’t be as long as yours.”


	30. Chapter 30

Nothing good ever happened after getting a Royal Arm, it seemed, and even though they weren’t expecting to find the Tomb of the Mystic at Titan’s feet, Gladio couldn’t help but think that their luck hadn’t changed much when the floor dropped out from underneath Noct, sending him tumbling to gods knew where. He didn’t even have to think as he leapt off the edge right along with him.

Gladio’s combat training was a carefully constructed combination of instruction from the Crownsguard, Kingsglaive, his dad, Cor, and even more casual sources, like the best dojo in the city and the street fighters on the south side. He’d known ever since he was old enough to walk that he was gonna protect the future King someday, so he’d made it his mission to become the biggest badass motherfucker Insomnia had ever seen, even if that wasn’t really who he was and even if he had to seek out the most dubious sources to do so.

But even acting the tough guy, he still got to use that charm that came so naturally now and then; sweet talking those southies into letting him fight with them had been no easy feat, after all. It was why he’d understood Laura’s persona explanation so well the day before, even if her particular flavor of nutjob acting was beyond any level he’d ever been taught. He himself had been playing the dumb, relaxed jock last night as that creep sauntered around them all. His other persona that he’d pull out often was his dad.

That instinct that made him jump without question was all his dad, too. He couldn’t count the number of lectures he’d gotten, sitting in that velvet-cushioned chair in front of his old man’s intimidatingly enormous desk in his study—the duties of a Shield, the sacrifice, the balance between brother and protector. It was a balance that, even as a kid, Gladio understood well, ever since Iris had been born and they’d both lost their mom. But it wasn’t from the lectures, or even Iris, that Gladio had learned what it meant to be a Shield; it was his dad’s example. Now that Clarus Amicitia was gone, and now that Gladio knew that he’d known it was coming, he saw it all too clearly—those late nights, all that preparation to make sure his kids were safe and ready for what was coming, the sacrifice of his life for a man he loved and respected.

“Noct! I gotcha!” he yelled as he felt the weight of the Prince’s momentum threatening to pull even his arm out of its socket. “Come on. Pull yourself up.”

As he pulled Noct to his feet, Gladio heard a scraping sound coming from behind him and whirled, summoning his sword to defend Noct from this new threat, but it was only Laura sliding lightly down the steep incline and stepping off at the bottom like she’d just taken the escalator at the mall. He dismissed his sword and grinned at her. Fucking showoff.

“You boys okay?” she asked.

“We’re good,” Noct muttered.

“All right. I told Prompto and Ignis to find a safer way down while we take this path,” she said, pointing in the only direction they could take.

“Let’s do it,” Noct said, taking a step toward the path, but he froze.

Gladio felt it too.

The rumble started off so low in pitch that Gladio could barely detect it, a resounding bass that he could feel more in his teeth than hear in his ears. But that subtlety didn’t last long as it grew to crashing, deafening, bone-shatteringly thunderous. He watched in awe as the great god Titan raised the famed meteor, which probably had the same surface area as all of Insomnia, over his shoulders and stood to—well, not quite his full height. His eyes glowed with divine fire, his skin was shot through with what looked like stone that had formed the roots of the world, and his mouth was pulled into a snarl as he spoke in a voice that was an earthquake made into sound.

“ **ʃo fʊðə βænəʃuv.** ”

“Godsdamn. This is the Archaean?” Noct asked in awe. “He’s trying to tell us something, but what?”

“Let the trial begin,” Laura said, and Gladio looked over at her to see her glaring up at the god, her own eyes filled with a less literal fire.

“You speak the divine language?” Noct asked.

“Well enough,” she said pointing to her head. “I got five billion languages up in here. ‘The divine language’ is close enough to the roots of a handful of them for me to get the gist.”

He knew she didn’t approve of the gods for whatever reason, but Gladio couldn’t help but be in awe of the big guy’s absolute power. It was the obvious kind of power, a show of strength that was easy to see, not like Laura’s hidden subtlety. Gladio didn’t consider himself particularly religious, but he’d been raised with it as a part of everyday life. He’d been taught to respect the gods since he was a kid sitting on his mother’s knee and listening to her tell stories from the Cosmogony.

But Laura’s blatant dislike was a little surprising for Gladio. When everyone grew up with deities walking among them, plainly visible as their gargantuan astral bodies performed acts beyond any human capability, it was pretty unheard of to meet anyone who didn’t believe in the gods or had anything but awe for them. Gladio could maybe understand Laura not believing in them if she wasn’t from this world—until she was faced with the sight like the one they were all staring at now. Even Gladio felt small and humbled standing below the Archaean, an unfamiliar feeling for him. He wondered why she didn’t.

“You gonna tell us what that look’s for Princess?” he asked.

Her expression relaxed to neutral before she turned to him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not my place to judge your religion. I’ll try harder to keep my opinions to myself.”

While he respected her for that, he’d rather have her opinion. It wasn’t like he was gonna keel over and faint if she said something against the Six; she already had about the telepathy thing. If he was gonna do his job and protect Noct, he needed to know everything they all thought and believed about all the crazy shit going on around them, even if it was sacrilegious.

“Nuh uh. We been through too much to start pullin’ that shit. Tell us.”

Laura looked first to Noct, who nodded, then to Gladio. “Can you imagine if I’d just showed up out of the blue and made you guys or Regis go through a trial? What kind of person would you think I was?”

“We woulda told you to take a hike,” Noct said with a chuckle.

“Exactly. Let’s just say I don’t think much of immortal beings who walk the planet, claim themselves gods demanding worship, and force mortals to jump through hoops for who knows what reason.”

“So if he’s not a god, he’s . . ..” Gladio coaxed.

“Just another species of being. Just like I am. In my view, anyway, but you’re free to believe what you like.”

That was the thing though. She may have thought she was just another species of being, and sure, that was true. Maybe it was because of their upbringing, they all couldn’t help but see her as anything but a god, even if she didn’t approve. Gladio wasn’t gonna fall down and worship at her feet or anything, but she deserved as much of his respect as the colossus above their heads—maybe even more, because she had a point. She _was_ the one standing down here with them, ready to draw her swords in Noct’s defense same as the rest of them.

“Hey, don’t rush off on your own, huh?” Gladio called out to Noct, who had started jogging toward the path. Gladio and Laura caught up with him.

“Don’t get left behind,” Noct shot back, and Gladio could tell the kid was stressed enough to pull out that sullen teenager bullshit again, damnit. He’d been doing so well lately.

He shot a look to Laura, who muttered, “It’s the Royal Armiger, I think. Takes more out of him than he lets on. Believe me; power always comes at a cost.”

He hadn’t really thought about that. They all knew of the toll it took on the King to keep the Wall up, even if no one ever talked about it. But the Royal Armiger . . . King Regis had acquired his before Gladio had been born, so if he had gotten it at a cost, no one but his dad would’ve known. Maybe that was what all those “support him in times of need” lectures had really been all about.

The heat was brutal as they made their way up the path, and Gladio and Noct had to remove their jackets just to cool off a little. Noct’s shirt was sticking to him like a second skin, and they were both dripping with sweat. Since Laura had nothing to hide from them anymore, he noticed she took her jacket off and her skin was a little pinker than usual, but she was powder fucking dry. Sometimes, it paid off—being an alien.

Of course, the only shit they encountered on that walk was Gladio’s one weakness—flying shit. His sword was big enough and he could jump high enough as long as they flew low, but they didn’t seem interested in dying today, so Noct was having to warp-strike the bastards down to the ground for him to finish them off. There was a downside to all the movement, though. The heat was making him and Noct woozy as they worked, which was only gonna make Noct worse, he was sure.

When they’d finished with the flock, Laura’s face was tense as she reached up to place a quick hand against his forehead and said, “You guys let me know if you need help, okay? I will if I have to, especially with the others missing.”

“We got it for now, babe,” he said, wiping at the sweat on his brow so it wouldn’t fall into his eyes. “But we’ll call on ya if stuff starts heatin’ up—more than it is, anyway.”

“How the hell does it get this hot?” Noct complained. “Feels like I’m about to combust.”

“Pretty sure all the lava flowing underneath the ground below our feet and the meteor on fire have something to do with it,” Laura said with an amused smile, summoning hand towels for them both to use to keep their faces dry. “Here—most important item you can carry, ya know.”

It was a difficult hike between the narrow ledges, sharp protruding rocks, and ground tremors, made even more difficult by his swimming head and those godsdamn bird things, which Laura unhelpfully informed him were called dynoaevis, a relative of the daggerquill that was weak to firearms, daggers, and fire. It was almost like having Iggy down there in the pit with them.

He enjoyed hanging out with Iggy and Laura during these long walking hunts. It was really only with them, where he wasn’t forced into a mentorship role, that he could relax a bit and be himself. But with those two in the middle of their thing, he was probably gonna be spending more time alone just so he could remember who he was when he wasn’t being the Shield. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be like that with them trying so hard to pretend they weren’t together.

Gladio wasn’t naïve like Noct and Prompto. He knew Laura and Iggy had either gotten together or were gonna get together before the phoenix down fever, and he knew they were trying to downplay whatever had resulted in its wake. It hadn’t been long enough to tell for sure, but based on how they acted yesterday morning, they were doin’ a pretty good job of it. But it didn’t erase the fact that Gladio had seen that Iggy’d had a pretty big crush on Laura before Lestallum, and Laura, who was probably way more experienced, never seemed to look like she’d fallen quite as hard for him. While he was pretty sure he could trust her with Iggy’s heart, he did have to say something.

“So . . . about you and Iggy—”

“I told you, Glad,” she interrupted. “As much as I love you guys, I’m not giving you anything he hasn’t, which I know is pretty much nothing. He’s the more reserved of us, so what you guys know is on him.”

“I know, and I’m not looking to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. We did our ragging and we’re done—for now, anyway,” he said with a grin. “But you gotta know that you’ve got power over that man now. And if you hurt him? I’m sorry, but much as I love you too, I’m gonna have to kill you.”

Noct wasn’t particularly subtle about it, but Gladio could see that he’d slowed up ahead, narrowing the distance between the three of them so he could listen to Laura’s response. Laura hadn’t missed this either, as her eyes flicked to Noct’s back before turning to Gladio.

“I’d expect nothing less of you,” she said. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but Ignis is the one with all the power here, not me. I was careful to set things up that way.”

That was encouraging news, but he wondered how serious it really was then. It wasn’t like he could tell from their behavior. Iggy wasn’t the type who was just jonesing to get laid, so he definitely had to have feelings for her. But then even Gladio was a little shocked he didn’t see a reaction from Iggy when Laura said she wasn’t sure about her plans after this. Whether it was serious or not, Gladio supposed it really wasn’t his business until it started affecting their job.

“That’s good to hear, but don’t worry, Princess,” he said with a wink. “I’ll be giving him a similar speech sometime soon. But hey, whatever you guys got going on, I’m happy for ya.”

He put his arm around her, pulling her into his side as she said, “Thanks, babe.”

“Damnit, it’s a dead end,” Gladio heard Noct say, and he looked up to see him standing at the edge of a precipice that radiated with fumes of volcanic heat. They rose into the air and created rippling mirages that made Noct look like he was standing in puddles of water.

“This way,” Gladio said, pointing to a narrow ledge leading off to the right. “No room for error here.” Noct and then Laura followed behind him.

“Make it quick,” Noct snapped. “I just want this to be over.”

Gladio ignored the attitude, for now. He himself wasn’t feeling so hot at the situation they’d found themselves in. It wasn’t that he was afraid of heights, it was that he had succeeded in becoming the biggest badass motherfucker in Insomnia, and people like that didn’t really need to be balancing on a ledge that ranged from the length of his foot to half that—especially when that ledge was overlooking a two thousand foot drop into a pit of liquid fire that might as well be Ifrit’s fiery asshole after a night spent bingeing on hot chickatrice wings.

But of course, when they’d reached the middle, the narrowest part that fucking ledge, the tremors started up again, threatening to vibrate his feet right off the edge. He looked over to Noct and Laura to make sure they were okay. Noct seemed fine, but Laura had gone stiff, staring up at the rock wall in front of them, hiding Titan from their view.

“Brace yourselves,” she warned. “Looks like he’s not going to wait until we catch up with the others.”

Noct and Gladio had just scooted their heels back as far as they could and gripped the jagged grey rock behind them when a hand as big as a Magitek engine slammed through the rock in front of them and reached out for Noct, sending sharp shards of stone debris hurling at the bare skin of their arms and faces.

“Hey! Titan! What’s the big idea?” Noct screamed at the hand as they shuffled for the other side.

“Save it!” Gladio growled. “Get to solid ground first.”

“Faster!” Noct yelled back, and Gladio could tell the kid was starting to panic.

As he continued to shuffle as fast as his suddenly unnecessarily-bulky boots would go, Gladio looked past him at Laura, who was narrowing her eyes at the hand. It jerked back as though burned.

“That’s right,” he could hear her mutter. “This bitch bites back.”

“Take it easy on the mind games, will ya?” Gladio said. “We don’t need you pissing him off any more than he already is.”

“He wants my block taken off Noctis’s head, and he’s letting me know it,” she replied, looking to Noct. “I’ll do it if you want, but not until we’ve reached the other side.”

It wasn’t too much of a relief when Gladio was able to grab a hold of a branch from an ancient, desiccated tree, but at least it was something to brace himself with in case any more of the ledge was shaken away by Titan’s tremors. But the strength of the wood was tested far too soon, in Gladio’s opinion, when the ridge beneath Noct crumbled beneath his feet, and Gladio had to lean out, grab the kid’s arm, and swing him out and over to the solid ground below. The branch creaked as he pulled himself back against the wall, but held. Hot damn, if Cor coulda seen _that_ move!

“If that’s his welcome, hate to see how he treats intruders,” Gladio grumbled as he and Laura leapt to down next to Noct. This was his first time dealing with the gods up close and personal, and he had to say, he was less than impressed with their treatment when they were the ones called here in the first place.

“You wanna talk? So do I,” Noct said, glaring up at the god before turning to Laura. “Not until we get to him. I don’t need him poking at me anymore than he already is.”

After another few minutes of walking in silence, ducking under stone arches, maneuvering around lava vents, and pointedly ignoring the crackling rumbles coming from Titan’s direction, Gladio could see Noct was reaching that point that was soon gonna piss Gladio off: lifting his eyes to the sky and scowling, complaining about the heat, and dragging his feet.

He’d started training the kid when he’d turned eleven and the King had decided he wasn’t going to recover any more than he had from the attack. And it was then Gladio had realized what a spoiled little princess he’d inherited. He woulda been proud to protect someone like King Regis, but the whiny, sniveling, lazy little shit he’d been assigned to was so unlike the King that he wondered if the kid hadn’t been switched out at birth.

If it was his job to die for the Prince, then it became his job to make sure he was worth dying for, and to make sure Gladio wouldn’t have to do something dumb, like jump between him and a fucking sabertusk, to do it. The Prince was gonna learn to be a warrior at his hand and learn to take care of himself a little too. It meant that Gladio always had to be the tough guy, the ass kicker, the growling angry guy. The Shield—another, more permanent, persona.

They’d come a long way since then. Noct still had a tendency to get his head stuck up his own ass when the going got tough, but he had guts, which was a start. He was proud of how the kid had handled the Fall so far and how he’d been doing in their battles in general. But now that all their role models were gone or elsewhere, that meant that it was now Gladio’s sole responsibility to turn the boy into a man, into a king. It wasn’t gonna be easy.

It only took another five minutes for the complaint to come as he stumbled over his own feet: “I’m so sick of this endless walking.”

Summoning the Shield inside himself, Gladio hauled him bodily up off the ground. “And I’m sick of your endless whining. Are you a man of royal blood, or aren’t you?”

“Of course I am! I couldn’t forget it if I tried. What about it?” Noct argued, pushing Gladio off him.

Good. Piss him off a little, remind him of his duty, and maybe he’d start acting like the king he was supposed to be.

“You’re not the only one having a tough time. We’re all on edge,” Gladio reminded him.

And fuck, he might not be showing it, but he sure as hell was on edge. His dad and everyone he’d ever known was gone, and he was not only responsible for the King that would save the world, he was also responsible for one of the last noble houses of Lucis—not just his little sister, but Jared and Talcott as well. Gladio had a duty to them just as much as Noct did to Gladio and Iggy, and he had no idea how he was gonna manage that when he was away beating back the dark closing in on them all. He had no idea, but he was gonna find some way to do his duty—all of it. The least Noct could do was step it up and become the King. This was fucking war, and it was time for them all to become soldiers.

“We Amicitia are the King’s sworn Shields. Guard the King with our lives—that’s the way it’s always been. I’ve embraced my duty, and I take pride in it.” Gladio turned to focus his gaze directly on Noct. “When you can’t focus, I focus for you. It’s my job. So let me do it, all right?”

“All right,” Noct sighed, but Gladio could tell by the tone in his voice that he’d gotten through.

“Sorry, but I had to get it out. Come on,” Gladio said with an encouraging smile.

“Hey, Gladio,” Noct said, “Your dad . . . I’m grateful to him. You too, ya know.”

Gladio’s widened his eyes a little in surprise. Noct and Iggy had been having a lot of squishy little epiphany moments lately, but he never expected Noct to turn his burgeoning ability to express emotion on him.

“Just doing our job,” Gladio said, but any additional words he may or may not have had planned were interrupted by Noct’s ringing phone.

“Ignis,” he answered. After a couple of seconds, he hung up, saying, “Got cut off, but it sounds like we’re about to have Imperial company.”

“Just what we need,” he heard Laura mutter from behind him.

Gladio was about ready to leave this entire fucking place behind when the jagged cliffs on either side of them opened up to reveal an outcropping of rock—guarded by a platoon of MTs and overlooking a dropoff from where the Archaean, bigger than the Citadel towers, stood hunched over and heaving with exertion from the weight on his back. Taking out the MTs was easy work between the three of them; the entire group was getting to the skill level where these models were more of a nuisance than an actual threat unless they were overwhelmed with them.

When the last MT had shorted out, Noct turned to Laura and said, “All right. Take it off now.”

Laura nodded, stepping up to Noct and placing her hands on his head and doing her weird finger thing. It only took a second before she was pulling her hands away, and Noct immediately bent over double, clutching his head.

“What the hell is it you want? Quit screwing with my head!” he yelled up at Titan.

Gladio looked to Laura, who shook her head. “He’s not letting me in on the conversation. I can still step in to protect him if I need to.”

“Looks like he’s done talking though,” Noct said, shaking his head and standing straight. “I didn’t get anything from him but nonsense.”

Had it been an hour earlier, Gladio might have been able to appreciate just how massive Titan’s fists were—just how much damage they could do with a single punch. But they’d been poked, prodded, and grabbed at enough for one day, and at that point, he wasn’t feeling particularly poetic. As the curled fingers came hurtling toward them and he prepared to leap at Noct again, he heard Laura shout.  

“Gladio, duck!” She slapped a hand to the back of Noct’s neck and pushed him to the ground as Gladio threw himself to the stone at his feet. Gladio was ready to roll in case the big guy decided to slam his hand down on all of them, but instead he felt the shards of rock and dust ticking at his back as the fist passed over the three of them.

“Hey guys! Did ya miss us?” Gladio heard Prompto call out.

“Come now, Gladio, this is no time to be lying down on the job,” Iggy said with a quirk of the lips as he grasped Gladio’s hand and tugged him to his feet.

“What can I say? Felt like a good time for a nap,” Gladio said, clasping Iggy’s shoulder for a second before turning back to Noct.

“Not particularly burdened with that meteor if he’s got enough energy for this,” Laura grumbled. “And this is just fantastic, now we’ve got company.”

As much as he hated to turn his eyes away from the god who seemed to think they were nothing more than insects to be squashed, Gladio spared a glance behind him just long enough to see the six Magitek engines headed toward them.

“Damn,” Gladio muttered.

“And I got more bad news for ya, babe,” Laura said, looking up at Titan. “This is apparently a trial for you guys, not me. He wants me to sit this out, or he won’t play ball.”

“You mean we gotta fight that guy ourselves?” Prompto squeaked.

“What can I say?” she said with a small smile. “Sometimes ya gotta roll the hard Six. Believe me, I’d be more than happy to kick his ass for you, but you won’t get his help that way—if that’s even what this trial is about. Go on. I’ll take care of the Imperials; you take care of John Galt over there.”

“Who is John Galt?” Prompto asked, his face twisting in confusion.

Laura positively beamed at the question, and Gladio figured it was just another one of those alien references he’d never understand. “Ohhhhh, Prompto. You just made my year, you have no idea. But never you mind. We don’t have time for a seventy-seven-page rant right now. Get going!”

It felt like hours of hacking as Noct warp-struck the shit out of himself, Ignis flipped around like an acrobat on uppers, and Prompto hurled flasks of every element at the big guy’s arm. Gladio didn’t really see the point of this; they might as well be attacking the Citadel towers with their swords. But for all his size and strength, the big guy didn’t seem to be hurting them all that much. He seemed to be toying with them, wasting their time, and nothing pissed Gladio off more than wasting his time. So when Iggy and Prompto came up with a plan to team up and use blizzara to freeze the bastard’s arm off, Gladio had long reached the point where he was all for it, god or not.

“Certainly didn’t expect this much trouble!” Iggy said almost cheerfully, burying a polearm into what was hopefully the sensitive stone skin between Titan’s thumb and forefinger. The rest of them followed suit, and when the arm went still for a moment, they all threw their blizzara flasks at Titan’s forearm. Gladio could smell that sharp tang, like the inside of an ice machine, and feel the wind grow cold as white crystal fractals spun their way up the god’s arm like a spider web.

“It’s over!” Noct screamed as he re-summoned his sword and swung it down in a wide arc over the Archaean’s hand. It shattered like glass and crumbled onto the stone ledge, and the Archaean fell onto his frozen stump with a deafening crash.

“Hey, we all still here?” Noct called out.

“Yep, still here,” Gladio said a little smugly.

“If a little battered,” Iggy said, brushing ice and stone dust off his jacket.

“Does this mean it’s over?” Prompto asked.

“ **joʊ wɛbɛts jʌʃʌɹ fɛɪ ʊnə bʊm** ,” Titan rumbled, forcing Noct to lean on his knees with one hand and grab his head with the other.

“He says he has a message for you,” Laura said, coming up from behind them. “And this is fracking ridiculous. I can understand him. He can just _tell_ me!”

“How many languages _do_ you speak?” Iggy asked.

“Don’t even ask, Iggy,” Gladio said. “It’ll only depress you.”

But anything he might have said in response was drowned out by the horrible, ferocious roar Titan let out in that moment. Gladio had believed that all the bone-shattering bass they’d endured since they’d gotten to this fucking place had shaken him down to his soul, but it was nothing compared to that brutal howl and that primeval snarl on the Titan’s face. As he continued to scream, golden sparkles blossomed into existence and swirled around him like fireflies, leaving glittering trails in their wake.

“What the fuck are you doing, Laura?” Gladio yelled over at her. Because he’d seen this magic once before, those gold sparkles were the same kind that had trailed behind Laura the day Insomnia fell.

“It’s not me!” she screamed back over the sound of the god still howling above them.

The golden sparkles hurtled toward Noct, surrounding him, and he cried out in shock. Gladio was about to leap forward to knock him out of the cocoon of shimmering light when Laura rushed over first, placing a hand at the back of his head.

“He’s all right,” she said with her eyes closed, and she pulled her hand away just as Noct opened his eyes.

“That was . . . Luna,” Noct said in surprise, looking up at the Archaean. “You spoke with her? That’s why . . ..”

The Archaean suddenly flashed a blinding gold, sending out sparks that flew into the six hovering Magitek engines, setting their engines ablaze in red flame and black smoke as they dropped out of the sky. It was the last thing Gladio saw before the thunderous cacophony and overwhelming radiance of the godlight forced him to cover his eyes. There was one more chest shattering boom before everything went quiet.

When Gladio was able to look up again, Titan was gone, and the meteor, thrown to the planet over two thousand years ago, gone along with him.

Laura stood on the edge of the ledge, looking down into the pit.

“Well,” she said with a slight smile. “I guess Atlas . . . finally shrugged.”

Gladio looked to Iggy, as he was the one most likely to know what the fuck she was talking about, but he looked just as bemused as everyone else. They all looked back to her as she barked out a laugh.

“Blimey! If only I ‘ad a pair of sunglasses ta put on right ‘bout now!”

“Whaaa?” Prompto asked with a facial expression that said that even he was about to drop her off at the nearest hospital to have her checked over for head injuries.

Laura laughed merrily and pulled Prompto’s forehead to her lips. “Don’t ever stop being you, Prom. So, anyone know why he’s been holding that meteor up for so long in that pit if it’s suddenly okay to disappear with it now?”

“Because he’s a giant jackass,” Gladio said emphatically.

Noct shrugged, “At least he’s a jackass that’s on our side now.”

Gladio was almost beginning to get used to it, the world exploding in fire and percussion, so he barely even flinched when a circle of stone exploded next to them in a burst of blistering lava and yet more sharp stone shrapnel. When the ground nearly shook them all to their knees, he’d decided he’d had enough of Titan’s bullshit.

“Time to go!” Laura called out cheerfully.

“We’ll never make it,” he bellowed at her, but he’d already started stepping in that direction anyway, as had the others, because there was no way in hell they were going down without a fight.

“Not unless we hitch a ride,” she said, pointing up at the Magitek engine that had just descended above their heads. “We let the troops jump out the back, and you guys take care of them down here. Noctis and I can warp to the ship and take out the pilots. Sound good?”

Gladio nodded, readying his weapon and not even bothering to see what the others’ reactions were. It wasn’t like there was any other choice. The only problem was . . .

“Do you even know how to fly one of those things?” Iggy asked.

Gladio looked over to see Laura’s face light up with a smile as she stared up at the ship. “Wouldn’t be the first time I hopped into a ship and had to take a quick course in not crashing. Power, pitch, yaw, and roll. Piece of cake.”

“Whatever,” Noct said.

But something was wrong as the back doors slowly opened. A troop of soldiers didn’t appear to jump down to them; a single figure strolled casually up to the edge of the open door. It didn’t matter that the heat was creating a haze or that the guy was over fifty feet up. Gladio would recognize that swagger, that weirdass outfit, and that hair anywhere: Ardyn.

“Fancy meeting you here!” he called down to them in a jovial voice as though he were greeting them at a royal dinner party. “It occurs to me I never formally introduced myself. Izunia. Ardyn Izunia.”

“Imperial Chancellor Izunia?” Ignis asked, aghast.

“At your service, and more importantly, to your aid.”

As Gladio quickly traded a glance with the others, he saw that they were all just as skeptical as he was.

Laura said just loudly enough to be heard enough above the engines, “Keep in mind when making your decision that this man was likely involved in planning your father’s assassination.”

They all looked back up at Ardyn as he continued ‘reassuringly,’ “I guarantee your safe passage, though you’re always welcome to take your chances down there. Buried among the rubble, is it?”

“Dying here is not an option!” Iggy said, turning to Noct. “We have no choice, Noct.”

It seemed like the best choice to Gladio. He was pretty sure the five of them together could take the guy if something went wrong, immortal or not.

Noct looked back up at the ship, then down to the five of them. “I know,” he said.

***

It seemed as though whatever Iggy and Prompto had gone through to get to Titan hadn’t been as exhausting as Gladio and Noct. Prompto was crouched down next to Gladio, rocking back and forth on his toes with the movement of the ship as it jostled them. Iggy was keeping watch by the door with his arms crossed over his chest and a glower on his face, but Gladio and Noct needed to sit down after the hours spent walking and battling for their lives in the volcanic heat. Laura’s legs were nearly brushing Gladio’s crossed ones as she stood next to Iggy, completing the barrier between them and Ardyn.

“Oh, thank the gods I found you boys!” Ardyn said in a faked fretful tone as he casually leaned against the other side of the back door.

“And what will you do with us now?” Iggy asked, leaning into his hip.

“Why, grant you safe passage—just as I said.”

Laura snorted and shook her head, “Yeah, a regular saint, you are.”

Gladio watched closely as Ardyn narrowed his eyes, pushed himself off the wall, and sauntered over to her. He leaned down close to her face, tilting his head as his pupils seemed to dart over her, searching for something. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t that of the oily politician Gladio had come to associate him with; it was soft, stripped of its flamboyant cadence.

“Your heart was as cold as ice until it was drawn to flame. Has your burning passion transformed your nature so drastically since last we met?” He inched a little closer, gazing into her eyes. “Then again, when the fires of aegis are stoked on love’s behalf, one’s entire being can be altered, no? I must say I find the transformation rather stirring.”

Laura looked up at him with the same searching expression. Even to Gladio, it almost looked like they were about to kiss each other, and what the ever-living fuck was that about? He was all for personas, but this was too much, too weird. Iggy was standing not two feet from them as the two hovered on the edge of making out, his arms still crossed, but now with a bored expression on his face—though Gladio knew that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

“You know,” she began in the same soft voice, “I’m not a fan of Rand, personally, but it appears to be that kind of day.” She smiled sweetly. “Contradictions don’t exist. Check your premises.”

Ardyn snapped his head away, turning to amble back to his spot on the other side of the door.

“I’d rather you not belittle my intelligence. There are very few options from which to choose an everlasting soulmate. The tide does not walk upon the land, and we all know the inferno is not drawn to her.”

He sounded almost irritated to Gladio when he said it. Good, so whatever freaky-ass fuckery Laura was pulling on him seemed to be getting somewhere, even if he had no idea where. He’d gotten last night that Ardyn thought Laura was Shiva, and personally, he thought she should roll with it so he’d leave them alone. From the sound of it, he still thought so, and it made sense to Gladio. It wasn’t like there were a lot of immortals to identify on Eos: the gods, the Messengers, the Lucii, Gilgamesh, and apparently Ardyn. If her magical aura identified her as a god, what other conclusion could Ardyn draw? Aliens were the stuff of fiction on Eos; they weren’t a thing here, let alone alien gods. From what Gladio had heard as a kid of the Tidemother’s attitude toward mortals, Ardyn did have a point that the only other option could be Shiva, even if the idea of Shiva biting a man was fucking hilarious.

“So ice and water are the only two choices?” She let out a carefree laugh. “Blimey, sounds like either way you look at it, the inferno’s screwed, poor sod.”

“You needn’t fear for your precious flame, my dear. He’ll positively blaze under my careful tutelage,” Ardyn said, his eyes growing warm and mischievous again. “And, if I am fortunate, I may be able to unite fire and frost.”

“Well, I wish you all the best of luck. Now, if you don’t mind, we’ve got some travel plans to make, which I’m sure you already know all about, so if you’ll excuse us?”

“But of course,” he said, rolling his hand before dipping into a bow.

It was only once he’d strolled to the front of the cargo bay and into the cockpit that Iggy and Laura kneeled down next to Gladio.

“I need to know something, and I need to know it right fucking now,” Laura began, and Gladio saw that her face had gone pale, her eyes wide with fear. “Shiva’s lover. Who is it?”

“Ifrit,” Gladio said.

“And his element is fire?” she asked, and Gladio nodded.

She turned to Iggy and said, “Are you absolutely positive that no one has ever known the meaning of all those Latin names you guys use around Insomnia? Ever? Even thousands of years ago?”

Iggy furrowed his brow in concern. “I’ve studied the matter extensively, and the meaning of the words to which I believe you’re referring have most certainly never been known. There are a few connections, of course, to modern-day Lucian words, but we’ve no way of knowing if their meanings have shifted over the millennia. Is everything all right?”

Laura closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Yes. I think so. Even if he did know the language, I would’ve felt him nearby if he’d . . .. Anyway, it’s not important. Do we have a plan for when he drops us off?”

“Go get the car,” Noct said.

“Right. We can’t leave her unattended for long,” Iggy agreed.

True to his word, Ardyn dropped them off safely. Unfortunately, he had dropped them off in the middle of fucking nowhere.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, don't do anything nuts like try to translate the divine language; it's just a vague representation of what it sort of sounded like Titan said in game written in IPA. I DID think about sticking a hidden message in there or simply writing the English in IPA, but...nah.


	31. Chapter 31

The five of them stood poised at the ready, watching the Magitek engine until it was no more than a speck in the sky. Only then did Laura turn to the four of them.

“Would you guys mind if we take a moment? Ignis and I need to talk.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do,” Gladio said, waving them away. “You guys talk while we figure out where we are.”

Ignis followed as she led him several meters away—behind a boulder that was large enough to give them some semblance of privacy.

“Hey,” she said in a low voice, looking up at him with searching eyes. “You know none of that was real, right?”

“Of course I know,” he said, allowing an edge of irritation to slip into his tone. “When an enemy puts a sword to one’s throat, one has no option but to pull one in return. That doesn’t mean I will ever enjoy watching as you toy with one another.”

“You hid it well, I thought,” she said with a soft smile, stepping closer to him.

Ignis sighed. “Though I cannot pretend I fully understand the games you immortals play, I do understand that it is, in fact, a game—a dangerous one.”

Ignis understood well the concept of using a persona to give off an air contradictory to one’s feelings. He couldn’t imagine the terror he would have become had he not managed to create a fortress of composure and courtesy to mask the paradoxical combination of sarcasm and self-consciousness that he was beneath the surface. But he had always created his own persona from the stronger pieces of himself, never adopted someone else’s, as Laura had implied with Noct. To act in a manner so completely contrary to one’s true identity was a foreign concept—one he didn’t think he could ever adopt. He tried to imagine for a moment what it would be like to sashay over to a man, threaten to bite him, then imply sexual attraction all within the span of a single day. He couldn’t.

“I know,” she replied, looking down at his feet. “It was never a game I was really good at either. Fortunately, he seems to be young, impatient, and bound by the limitations of the narrow focus of one planet and its species. Otherwise he would’ve beaten me by now.”

“That’s hardly reassuring,” he replied, stepping closer to her so that he had to look beneath his lenses to see her eyes.

“Come now, we’ve made some progress, haven’t we? Even with my doing nothing more than denying his accusations. Have you noticed?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “The idea of an Astral, perhaps even Shiva herself, lying to him upset him greatly; there’s a history there. And he doesn’t like being patronized. If I may offer some advice?”

He wasn’t certain she would even want his advice in whatever this high-stakes game was. What could he, a child, possibly have to bring to this battle?

Even though they weren’t connected, she still seemed to know what he was thinking.

“Stop making that face. I told you I was no strategist, and I would welcome any advice you have.”

He blinked in surprise. Advisor to the gods was not something he ever thought he’d put on his life’s resumé, but then again, neither was lover.

“Speaking in riddles and condescension seems to be where he feels most comfortable. If you apply pressure to those areas which are known weaknesses, you may maneuver him into sincerity and force him to reveal something more.”

“Patronizing I can do. And he thinks I’m lying when I say I’m not Shiva, so we’ll keep up with that. As long as I can hold up the veil of mystery, it keeps the focus off you guys.”

Ignis leaned back to glance around the edge of the boulder, where the other three were engrossed in studying the map. When he turned back to her, he pulled her into his arms. He wouldn’t admit it to her, but he was afraid—afraid for how much interest the Chancellor had shown in her, afraid at the unknown stakes, and afraid for the damage he’d suggested he could do to her, even if he had gotten her identity wrong.

“Please, be careful,” he murmured into her hair, which reeked of sulphur and smoke. “He seemed to imply that he’s done something to Ifrit, and if he has such power, then he has the power to do you great harm. Rose, he threatened you.”

He felt her press her lips to the hollow of his throat before replying. “He threatened Shiva, love. There’s no guarantee whatever he can do will affect me. But I do have a question. What made you think I was Shiva all those years ago?”

He’d eventually confessed the full scope of his memory of that time, including his misjudgment and subsequent devotion to the Glacian throughout his youth. In return, she’d recounted the full details of reality, which in turn jogged even more of his memory. It hadn’t been a happy conversation for either of them.

Ignis closed his eyes, thinking back to those two glorious days when he’d first met her.

“At first I thought you were a member of the royal family in a very poor disguise. But then, your eyes, the lowlights in your hair, the way your skin seemed to glow suggested something beyond human to my mind. Shiva, the Glacian, gentle as snow. You were . . . so very kind and gentle, brimming with magic so powerful, even in your weakened condition, I could almost feel it on my skin when you touched me—too powerful to merely be a Messenger. I did my research, of course, and determined that you had to be a High Messenger.”

“An avatar?”

He nodded. “A Messenger chosen by the gods to temporarily or permanently play host to an Astral spirit. High Messengers are indistinguishable from their original Messenger form until they ‘reveal themselves to the chosen.’ You can imagine I’ve done extensive research on the topic, and that was all I could find. I thought your display of power and the unique properties each time you summoned something was you choosing to reveal yourself to me.”

She heaved a sigh against his grip on her. “You and Ardyn coming to the same conclusion. But a footprint doesn’t look like a boot.”

“Well, the Chancellor is likely drawing his conclusions from more reliable evidence than I did.”

“That would be my aura, most likely.”

“The power of it? I swear even I can feel it sometimes.”

She pulled her head back to look at him. “Even when we aren’t connected?”

He nodded. “It was strongest the day of the Fall and again when you told me about feeling the turn of the planet. It was almost,” he searched for a word that wouldn’t upset her, “awesome. And I don’t mean that in the way the others use the word.”

She blew a laugh through her nose. “I would never make the mistake of thinking that.”

“What is it we’re sensing on you?”

“It’s . . . complicated, as always. But the easiest way to explain it in the terms of your world is that I have time magic. I’m bursting with it. It’s different enough that your Crystal recognizes and despises it—well, despises everything about me—and it’s similar enough that corporeals mistake it for the magic of Eos, god magic.”

“The gold from the Archaean. The gold from the day Insomnia fell.”

“Titan used the magic of time to show Noctis a vision of the past, but Lunafreya was glowing golden in that vision as well.”

“Her particular brand of magic, including her power to heal the scourge, is derived from the power of the gods.”

Of course, he already knew from his hazy memory of a flash of pain and blinding silver light that her healing magic wasn’t the sort that could be taken for god magic.

“May I tell the others of this time magic and its resemblance to the power of the gods? I get the sense that Gladio has already made the connection, the way he shouted at you when he saw it on the Archaean.”

“I don’t see why not. It was only the moment with Ardyn that I felt needed to be said in private. I’m sorry to put us at the center of attention, but I needed to make sure you knew immediately.”

Even in that moment, watching as she had looked up into the Chancellor’s gaze, her eyes darting down to his lips ever so briefly in suggestion, Ignis saw that the spark of euphoria and wonder were missing. He hadn’t doubted her for a moment. They had spent time in one another’s minds, in one another’s arms. He knew, even at his age and with his non-existent experience, he had found something certain and enduring. And gods, how he missed her now.

She was unable to maintain such an intimate connection over more than a few feet, and as a result, he hadn’t communed with her since the morning they’d awoken on the couch—with his lips at the back of her neck and shins pressing into her heels and everything in between pulled flush against her. Once she had convinced him to walk nude across the suite, they had taken care of one another in the shower, washing the sweat from one another’s bodies only to replace it with love and pleasure. They had grinned like fools at one another in the mirror as he’d styled his hair and she had conjured his shaving brush to whip his soap into a lather.

It was the last time he’d tasted her, and he’d waited long enough.

Pulling a hand from around her back, he ran a gloved thumb down the line of her jaw before grasping her chin. He hadn’t even begun to apply pressure to lift her face before she was standing on her toes, pressing her mouth to his. But he’d barely managed to flick his tongue against her lips before she was pulling away, stepping back out of his arms.

“Noctis is coming,” she explained.

It had been his decision to keep the depth of their involvement from the others. He’d wanted something to keep for himself, for once in his life. And though being caught in such a disgraceful position still shamed and horrified him, he had endured the requisite humiliation as recompense and was relieved to know that the others knew of the relationship’s existence, if not the full extent. At least he wasn’t keeping secrets from his liege, and he’d been given explicit permission to pursue her in any manner he desired—a gift he didn’t feel he deserved but would take nevertheless.

Ignis turned and walked out from behind the boulder to see Noct striding toward them.

“Specs? Is your phone dead too?” Noct asked.

Frowning, he pulled out his mobile and pushed the lock button, only to find the screen black. It was impossible, of course, that his phone’s battery could be depleted when he had ensured it was fully charged as they had arrived at Cauthess.

“Yes. Some trick of the Chancellor’s?”

“I’m thinking yeah,” Noct said as he turned and started back toward the others, and Ignis and Laura followed. “All our phones were good when we got outta the car.”

“So here’s the situation, best we can figure,” Gladio began. “We’re just west of Kettier Highland. Closest safe haven is Wiz’s, about two, maybe three days’ walking.”

“Walking?” Ignis asked with some alarm. Two or three days without a haven, while possible to survive with their combat skill, would still take a toll on them all.

“Yeah, it seems _someone_ let the chocobo rental expire while we were in Lestallum,” Gladio said, glaring at Noct, who was suddenly busy fixing his bangs.

“Well, there’s no point in pointing fingers,” Ignis said with a sigh. “We are where we are, unfortunately.”

“Might as well get started now then! Eh?” Laura said, clapping her hands together and grinning.

“Indeed,” Ignis agreed.

Gladio chuckled a little as they turned in the direction of Wiz’s. “Knew you guys getting together would be a pain in the ass,” he said, shaking his head.

Though the terrain was stunning as always—rocky, vibrant green hills; impossibly tall Duscaean Pines; and the stone arches that formed the outer wings of the Disc and seemed to defy the laws of physics—he found he couldn’t enjoy it. The journey was tortuously arduous, which shouldn’t have surprised any of them, given how they’d gotten there to begin with. Whether through coincidence or through some magic of the Chancellor’s, the group was besieged nearly continuously by what seemed every wild animal Duscae had to offer. They had all shown signs of fatigue after two hours of walking and near-constant battle, at which point, Laura joined in to assist them, much to Ignis’s relief and dismay. 

They made a minimal camp in the most defendable location they could find that evening, and Ignis wasn’t terribly surprised to see Laura turn pale and a bit green at the sight of the omelette he’d made for her. Though she’d masterfully kept up the pretense of cheer and optimism all day, he could see it in her eyes—the agony of near-constant death.

“I’m so sorry,” she said in a low voice. “I just can’t handle that tonight.”

“You need to eat something,” he entreated.

“If you insist, I’ll just cut some bread and make toast,” she said with a sigh, summoning one of the loaves she’d made in Lestallum.

“Please, allow me.” He set down his can of Ebony, took the bread from her, and turned back to the stove.

He heard her tsk as he was slicing into the warm loaf. “I don’t want to make more work for you.”

“It’s such a rare opportunity to be put in the position where I’m able to do something for you, kindly allow me to do so without comment,” he said, not completely eradicating the heat in his tone.

“Gods, I wish I could kiss that frown off your face,” she whispered. “But I need to do a check of the area.”

“Another time, perhaps,” he replied with a smirk as she turned away.

After they’d taken turns eating and battling off the packs of voretooths, Laura insisted that the four of them keep watch while she got an hour’s rest before taking the rest of the night on herself.

“The area’s defensible enough for one person to handle anything that comes along, and if tomorrow is anything like this afternoon, you all will need the full night’s rest.”

As they switched off for the evening and the four of them settled into their usual spots in the tent, Gladio spoke into the darkness.

“Anyone else think this is a bad idea? I’ve seen more daemons in the past hour than I have in the past week.”

“I dunno,” Noct said as he folded his pillow in half in an attempt to get more comfortable. “I always got the sense she was holding back with the combat thing, even today.”

“And she’s got a point,” Prompto added. “I mean, we can still see where we landed earlier. At this rate, it’s gonna take double what we thought to get to Wiz’s.”

“It’s a necessary evil, I’m afraid,” Ignis said with a sigh. “Just be grateful we have a means for handling it.”

Following a similar pattern each day and night, it took them seven days to reach Wiz’s Chocobo Post.

Ignis had tried to sleep that first night, but the _whoosh-clang_ of warp-strikes and the juicy thud of steel in flesh that seemed to occur every twenty minutes or so kept him awake all night, tortured with worry every time those sounds ceased. He had longed to get up to check on her every time, but he knew that irritation would be an understatement for her reaction. After the second night, however, she requested that she put him to sleep from just outside the tent, and only his exhaustion after battling the hordes all day convinced him to acquiesce.

He spent every moment of walking during that week thinking of her—the way her mind made him feel complete, the way her body felt under his, and the way she challenged his intellect with her vast stores of knowledge and wondrous adventures. He cherished the way she cared for and accepted him for everything he was and wasn’t. He never would have considered himself capable of being the victim of a whirlwind romance, but it was a simple fact that she made him happy. Since he wanted as much with her as he could get, he walked himself through each of her points with the view that they would bond.

Lonely though he was, it was of no interest to him whether or not she had a family here. They now had their own family to share—possibly more in the future if he found his parents—and given her superhuman ability to make friends wherever she went, he doubted they would ever want for company. Besides, for all that that feeling had nagged at him his entire life, he was also plagued with the paradoxical desire to be left in solitude to his own devices quite often—an inclination which she surprisingly understood and respected.

As to their own family, most noble houses indoctrinated their children from birth to breed and create as many offspring as possible to ensure the continuation of the bloodline. Perhaps it was because Ignis was raised by his tutors while simultaneously raising a child himself, but he’d never felt a particular desire to pass on his own genes. For now, he was satisfied with the freedom he’d been given—something he’d never had in his life—freedom to explore, freedom to be with Rose, freedom to pursue as much as he could within the bounds of his duty. Should he change his mind in the future, he had no doubt that the war would have, unfortunately, supplied the population with far too many orphans needing loving homes.

The rest of her points, while valid, did nothing to turn his thoughts from consenting to bond with her. They both had their duties they had to put before each other, as had already been discussed. He was somewhat aware of some of her past misdeeds, but he also knew her heart as it was now, had seen it all for himself in the throes of death. He knew she was worth keeping despite her dark past. It wasn’t as though he himself were still the innocent man he’d been when they’d met in the throne room.

He was forced to think selfishly when considering their disparate lifespans, as she had assured him the pain of his loss was well worth the happiness their life together would bring her. But he would be the one to be blessed with her company for his entire life, and the illusion of their aging together was some comfort. The only point she had made that gave him pause was her comment about the afterlife. No one knew what went on in the great beyond. He’d thought about it nearly the entire fourth day and decided if she was willing to live on for eternity without him, he was confident that he could make that same sacrifice for her, assuming he was even going to meet anything more than oblivion in death.

Really, it came down to the simple conclusion that after having had her—mentally, physically, and emotionally—he knew in his bones he’d never be satisfied with another. He loved her completely and she loved him—expressed in a medium in which their claims could not be doubted. His decision thought out and made firm, he only needed to tell her.

When they’d finally arrived at the post, Noct immediately paid for a seven-day chocobo rental for all of them.

“We need to add this into the budget from now on, Igs,” he said. “I don’t wanna get stranded like that ever again.”

“I’ll see to it. I believe we make enough to afford such an expense.”

Once they’d charged their phones, they learned from a frantic Iris that the Regalia had been taken from the Disc of Cauthess, Duscae was on lockdown, and they’d been presumed dead for the last week. Once she’d been reassured that they were most certainly alive, they split up their contact list to set about finding the Regalia: the Marshal, Cindy, Dave, Monica, Dino, Vyv, and Sania. Cindy had been their best hope, as she’d stated she had several contacts that could look inside Imperial bases for the vehicle.

In desperate need of respite and with nothing terribly pressing on their agenda, they paid for the camper for the next week so they could rest and run errands for Wiz, and while Prompto, Noct, Gladio, and Laura sat outside at the tables drinking tea, playing games, and talking, Ignis decided he would try to make Noct’s pastries with the bananas he’d found at the market in Lestallum. He was just bringing the banana filling together when the camper door opened, and Laura stepped in.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, thank you; this is more of a personal project. I’m just making this latest batch of pastries for Noct. I found this fruit—the vendor called it a banana—that I thought I would try in the recipe. Hopefully this should make them a little closer to his description,” he pulled out his notebook and checked his latest notes on Noct’s feedback.

“Yes, I know bananas. Bananas are good. Excellent source of potassium,” she said with that wistful smile of remembrance. “Closer to what description?”

He told her of the sweet Noct had sampled in Tenebrae and how he had been attempting to recreate it for years now. “I haven’t yet made a successful batch, however. I believe I have the pastry itself down, but the filling eludes me.”

“If he tried the pastry in Tenebrae, it probably contains an ingredient unique to that area.”

“Yes, that’s most likely the case. I had thought that as well. But, given our limited access to ingredients outside Lucis, I make do with what I have available.”

It was quiet for a moment as he spooned the filling into the shells. Then he said, “It just occurred to me that Noct has sent [photos of me with the pastry](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/finalfantasy/images/0/01/Lovers_Notebook_-_Ignis_Pastries.PNG/revision/latest?cb=20170906233855) to Lady Lunafreya. I wonder why she didn’t recognize them immediately.”

Her expression turned warm and sentimental. “Maybe he didn’t ask her for the same reason you didn’t just look it up on the internet.” When he cocked an eyebrow at her, she continued, “You wanted to have this with each other.”

A wave of tenderness washed over him, both for Noct’s sentiment and her words. How had he managed to miss that they’d been telling each other for years now?

“By the way, I wanted to thank you for your fortitude this past week—and also for your intervention to ensure my rest.”

“You’re welcome. It was my fault you couldn’t sleep though. The others seemed to have no trouble, exhausted as they were. I’m only sorry I couldn’t touch your mind completely from that distance.”

“I have missed you so,” he gasped the confession. “The world seems rendered flat and grey this past week without you.”

“Ignis,” she said on a sigh as she stepped closer and looked up at him.

He never could resist when she whispered his name like that, and it seemed as though she was always on the verge of rushing him when she said it anyway. He turned and seized her head in both his hands, attempting to mimic the way she [held hers](http://www.mccmatricschool.com/upload/2018/06/25/amy-ponds-test-run-countdowntothe50th-dr-who-girl-in-the-fireplace-l-9447ac8596f5496e.jpg) when she connected them—an implied request. The warmth broke over him the moment their lips met, and he groaned at the dual sensation. He let his every thought this past week wash over his surface memory for her: his worry, his love, his responses to her cautions about them bonding.

When he had reached those memories, she pulled back abruptly, her mouth falling open in shock.

“Yes,” he confirmed, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “I want to bond with you. It may seem a rash decision, but I’ve always known what I wanted the moment I decided. In fact, my only regrets in life thus far are opportunities I’ve not taken. My decision is firm. I shall not waver.”

He could feel her reaction to his words unfurling in his mind—wonder, incredulity, love, and a touch of apprehension. Evidently, she had more of herself to reveal to him still—information only a potential bondmate should know. He pulled away, turning back to the pastries.

“You talk while I work.”

“Are you in a rush or something?” she said with warm eyes and a smirk. “You know we can’t bond today, right? We need to be alone for the night at least, and in a safe location for a day or two while you get used to it.”

That was somewhat of a disappointment for him to hear, and she chuckled at his thought.

“I’m certain of your desire to bond with me,” he explained. “I should like to do the same for you. For once in my life, I’d like to start living the existence I’ve chosen for myself. The sooner we can make a plan, the sooner we’ll both feel settled.”

“I do so love it when you get bossy with me,” she purred into the back of his neck before gripping his hips, stretching up, and pressing her lips there.

“That’s rather fortunate,” he replied dryly as he summoned the ingredients for the topping. “Talk.”

He heard her sigh as she moved to sit down on the bench across from the front door.

“I’m not exactly alone . . . up here in my head.”

He paused for a moment over the bowl, wondering what she could possibly mean by that but not understanding enough to have an opinion.

 _Go on,_ he encouraged.

“There are two types of bonds. A high bond is what you and I would have. We’d be connected constantly through all of time and space, but not dimensions. We’d be able to keep our privacy but share anything we like—surface thoughts, memories, images, sensations, visions.”

“That sounds ideal,” he said, thinking of the potential of having such deep access to her mind.

“You have _no_ idea,” she replied in response to his thought. “That’s one of the things I’m most looking forward to—the thrill of showing you my memories.”

He heard her stand and watched as she stood in front of the other counter and summoned a knife, cutting board, and the vegetables they would be having that evening for dinner. As she began working, she continued.

“The other kind of bond is a low bond. It’s more . . . eternal friendship, usually with immortal beings so far beyond humanoid that they’d be difficult for you to relate to. I share such bonds with three entities; one is back in Lliaméra, and two are with me at all times.”

He could feel that her telling him this made her nervous for his reaction, and with good reason.

“Do you mean to say that our every private moment has been subjected to an audience?”

“No!” she said sharply, dropping her knife on the cutting board and placing a hand on his arm. “One of the entities isn’t even aware of the tangible world like that.” She let her eyes unfocus for a moment, and Ignis could see the flecks of gold appear and shoot through the blue. “She drifts among the tides of time, all-seeing, all-knowing, but unable to speak her secrets. She helps when she can.”

“Rose? Your aura is visible,” he said, doing his best to show her the image he was seeing.

She shook her head, clearing the gold. “It doesn’t surprise me. She’s what people see in me to call me the Goddess of Time. And that wasn’t even fully calling on her.”

“And the other entity? They are aware of the world around us?”

“Yes, but he spends most of his time asleep these days unless I call on him for help or guidance. Believe me, he has no interest in my personal life.”

“And I would meet these beings when we bond?” As strange and alien as each new revelation of hers was, he couldn’t deny that it was part of what made her so extraordinary, and it was becoming easier and easier to simply ‘roll with it,’ as they said. Even if they both returned to Insomnia and spent the rest of his life there after this was over, there was no doubt that she would always make living an adventure.

She noted the certainty in his response that he still wanted her, and he flicked his eyes over to her to see her smile fondly. “You don’t have to, but yes, if you wish.”

He was about to tell her that she hadn’t been completely honest with him; she did come with a family after all, but she had only just caught his thought and felt his affection when the front door to the caravan opened.

“Hey, um, guys?” Prompto’s head poked in, his eyes scrunched tight. “Um, Noct wants to know if we’re gonna eat soon?”

“Why are you doing that?” Ignis asked.

“Prom! It’s all right! You can open your eyes,” Laura said with a cheery laugh.   

Prompto grimaced a little and cracked an eye open before fully looking at them both. “Oh, okay. I was just, you know . . ..”

Ignis raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “You thought we were being inappropriate in here while cooking your meal.”

“Well you do got a history with kitchens, Iggy!” he heard Gladio call from just outside.

He closed his eyes against the heat rising in his cheeks and muttered. “May the Tidemother wash me away from this very spot. I suppose I deserved that.”

***

That evening found them all crowded in the front of the camper, dressed for bed and staring into the bed area in the back.

“I forgot this was one of the smaller ones,” Prompto said. “Are you sleeping outside with Saracchian like last time, Laura?”

“Four beds—I don’t see the problem,” Ignis said. “Laura and I will share.”

He was surprised to hear the words issue from his mouth, and even Laura looked up at him with wide eyes. At the sight of the others staring at him with varying degrees of incredulity, he realized he hadn’t thought this out and had no idea what to say now.

“Oh, come on,” Laura said, rolling her eyes at the other three. “You all know. We know that you know. You know that we know that you know, and so on. Ignis and I are together. Let’s quit this weirdass tiptoeing around and just get it out there.”

“Fine,” Gladio said, putting his arm around her and smirking. “But keep the porno reenactments to yourselves please.”

“Please, Gladio,” she said. “Think what you will of me, but does Ignis at least strike you as the exhibitionist sort?”

Ignis stood stock still as Gladio looked him up and down. He knew this good-natured teasing indicated affectionate feelings, but honestly, he didn’t understand the custom of humiliation as comedy. He’d had minor successes coming up with the appropriate response over the years, but usually only when the ribbing hadn’t focused on him directly.

_Just be yourself, love._

But that was the problem. Stripped of his persona, he was . . . really rather rude. Was that what she was implying he be?

“I don’t know . . .,” Gladio mused. “Never can tell about the quiet ones. But you’d know better than anyone, hey? Tell us, is it true what they say about them? Is he a coeurl in the sack?”

Though Gladio was a half a foot taller than he, Ignis straightened his spine, rising to his full height in an attempt to gain some position of superiority. He raised his chin and tilted his head a little as he said in the haughtiest tone he could manage, “If you’re really so curious to find out, Gladio, why don’t you try asking me out on a date yourself?”

He’d thought he’d gone too far as he stood in the deafening silence, his eyes drifting to the wide-eyed, open-mouthed faces staring at him. He was about to apologize when Laura spoke.

_No. That was brilliant. Just . . . give them a moment._

“Just make sure he buys you a drink first. Maybe a nice meal? Don’t put out for free!” Laura said with a laugh, which broke the spell and set them all to chuckling.

“Shit, no way I could afford his tastes!” Gladio complained, shaking his head and raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Yeah, probably too high maintenance for you,” Prompto said, snickering. “Better leave him to Laura.”

Noct leaned over to smack Ignis on the arm. “Good one, Specs. You know, the Scotch tab alone would be too much for him. I dunno how you manage it yourself.”

“One need only consume in moderation to occasionally indulge in life’s luxuries,” he reminded them, guiding Laura to the back of the caravan with a gentle touch to her back. He wanted to escape before the quivering in his innards migrated to his hands and was noticed by the others, or before he said something else that would bungle this most recent victory of his.

He could feel the eyes on them as Laura settled on her side, facing the wall of the camper, and he lay on his back next to her, summoning her blanket to cover the both of them. Choosing to ignore the stares, he closed his eyes, settling into Rose’s mind and knowing full-well that they’d end up wrapped around each other at some point in the night—hopefully after the others had drifted off.

***

Everyone, including Laura, was still asleep when Ignis stirred before sunrise. Though now was usually the hour for foraging or sparring with Laura, he couldn’t bring himself to wake her. Between the midgardsormr and his death, staying up all night to watch over the Chancellor as they slept, and seven days of hell, it was no wonder she was still unconscious.

Instead of getting up immediately, he buried his nose in her hair and breathed the scent of her shampoo. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could just make out the flickering images of her dreams, which seemed to pass by at the speed of light. He saw many images he recognized: their own faces, the back seat of the Regalia, Saracchian, and the places they had been together. But he saw many more images he didn’t: a ring of fire that seemed to stretch to infinity, a blue shed, a view of a forest from the back of an enormous silver creature, a pale face with yellow eyes, a blue humanoid feline creature, children dressed in the black robes of academia and laughing, a man with large ears and a leather jacket.

He shook his head and pulled back, feeling a headache blossom behind his eyes. He had only meant to see her mundane dreams, not pry into her history. Though his headache was likely due to his inexperience with deeper contact, he couldn’t help but feel it was the proper punishment for his intrusion. He only hoped she felt the same when she awoke.

 _It’s all right, love,_ came her drowsy thought. _You’re going to see it all for yourself soon anyway._

 _Shh,_ he sent back, brushing his lips against her temple. _Go back to sleep._

He rolled over to place his feet on the ground and looked up to find Prompto sitting up on his bed, already dressed and chewing his lip. Prompto jerked his head in the direction of the door and hopped down to go, looking back at him. Ignis nodded his understanding and made his way to the restroom to hastily throw himself together. Prompto was sitting at one of the tables outside when Ignis joined him.

“Is everything all right?” he asked as he sat down.

“Yeah, everything’s just dandy. It’s just . . . oh man, I dunno how to ask you this.”

Ignis closed his eyes briefly. Laura. This was about Laura. “May I suggest the direct approach?”

“I know we tease you about Laura, but seriously . . . how’d you do it?”

“I’m afraid I’m not certain of what you’re asking.”

“You know . . . she’s all . . . pretty and amazing and stuff,” he said before looking down at the table. “How do you get a girl like that to notice you? I mean, you got skills and all yourself, Crownsguard and all that training you had at the Citadel and stuff. And you’re really smart. But I was kinda hoping for some tips I could use myself?”

When Ignis remained silent, Prompto continued, looking up and waving his hands in the air.

“I’m not trying to humiliate you or tease you or anything, I swear. It’s just . . . I’ve got my eye on someone special, and I don’t even know how to start with her, you know?”

As much as he didn’t wish to speak of this to anyone, he could see that Prompto’s request was sincere, and Ignis could never turn down anyone asking for help. But he really had no idea what to say. Thinking back to the beginning of their relationship, he could hardly see how any success was due to skill on his part.

He sighed, “Honestly, Prompto, I haven’t a bloody clue. It just happened, despite my ineptitude. Fortunately, Laura was willing to overlook my clumsiness and pursue me. I assure you, my success has had much more to do with my good fortune.”

“Oh,” Prompto said, frowning. “That’s not gonna help me much.”

“No, I fear I’m a bit of a disappointment. I will say this much—be yourself. If she doesn’t return your affections, then you know to move on. There’s no hiding anything once you’re together.”

“Yeah, but being myself has always been kinda the problem,” he mumbled.

“I always thought the same, at least in the realms of romance,” Ignis replied, hoping he could give the man something that would be of some use.

“Really? But you’re so . . . I dunno. Capable. Seems like you’d be good at anything you set your mind to.”

“I assure you, that’s not the case. When I couldn’t foresee myself sweeping anyone off their feet, I decided to ignore the matter entirely. I had more important duties, after all. But I’m beginning to believe that perhaps this entire ritual is fraught with doubt and misery, at least in the beginning, no matter who you are.”

“Huh. That’s an interesting take on it. Never thought of you as doubting much of anything. Anyway, sorry for getting all up in your biznas,” he said with a chuckle and an overenthusiastic drum to the table.

Ignis felt a stab of pity for him. After all, he himself had been in an almost identical situation scant weeks ago. He only wished he could give him some profound piece of advice that would be a true help. Then he remembered.

“Oh, and Prompto?”

“Yeah?”

“Laura mentioned that Cindy was a hobbyist engineer, of sorts. Perhaps, next time we’re in Hammerhead, you could try to engage her in discussion about her work? Ask her what sorts of projects she’s working on, perhaps.”

“Oh, so you knew who I was talkin’ about, huh?” he said with a wince. “Guess it’s kinda obvious. But that’s a really good idea. Thanks, Iggy.”

“The pleasure is mine. I only hope it helps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those not into Doctor Who, that second image is The Doctor initiating telepathic contact with Madame de Pompadour.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW in the beginning

Laura lay back in the grass, digging her fingertips down beneath Saracchian’s top layer of feathers to reach the new pinfeathers coming in at his crest, while the others continued to laugh at Prompto’s most recent tumble from Sunny’s back onto his ass.

“Bet that’s gonna leave one helluva bruise,” Gladio teased.

Ignis shook his head. “It appears as though someone’s behind in his riding skills.”

She let the conversation drift away and instead concentrated on sending fond feelings to Saracchian. Though the darkness from his experience still hovered over his mind like a storm cloud, he’d proven to be loyal, fierce, and protective in their company as they ran their errands out of Lestallum and Wiz’s. Not only did he always come when called—even on the brightest of days—he also stayed to defend them when smaller enemies appeared. She sent him a wave of pride at his progress and affection for what a good bird he’d been, and though she wasn’t certain how much he understood of the stunted contact she was capable of on this world, he still closed his eyes in contentment.

They had spent the last six days running errands for Wiz, frolicking in the fields next to the ranch, and taking the chocobos out to collect the Royal Arm from the Tomb of the Clever while waiting for their web of contacts to get back to them on news of the Regalia. It was fascinating during that time to watch Ignis’s tension and exhaustion ease into attentiveness and giddiness as the stress of the previous week faded into memory. She loved that he felt comfortable enough to be, as he described it, ‘terribly brusque’ with her, but to see that quietly passionate side of him resurface once he’d relaxed some . . .. Except it was no longer particularly quiet. Once he’d decided that they would bond the first night the conditions were right to do so, he seemed to have taken it upon himself to court her like a boy in love, and she’d adored every second of it.

On their third morning there, he’d surprised her by being the one to pull her off on an adventure for once, dragging her off to their field just beyond the copse of Duscaean ash trees, pulling off her shoes, running his hands over her legs, and massaging her feet before confessing that he’d spent two hours looking up videos on how to braid hair. He hadn’t started simple of course, instead choosing to do a decent imitation of French braids on either side of her temples, combining in a single braid at the back of her head with the underlayers of her hair hanging loose. Later that afternoon as she was feeding one of her Terran pomegranates to Saracchian behind the camper, he’d tackled her, pushing her up against the back wall and devouring her mouth for a teasing moment before pulling back to grin radiantly, tuck a tiny white flower in one of her braids, and run off to race Calima with Prompto and Noctis.

He seemed to find joy in the risk of expressing his affection in front of the others without getting caught—shooting her secret smiles when no one was looking, stealing brief kisses behind trees and in the camper, and even once arranging the beans on top of her chili into a smiley face. It was only too easy for him to send her wave after wave of happiness when they were connected, so he’d taken to doing it in the middle of conversations—as he discussed vehicle maintenance with Prompto, Gladio’s latest book, or Noctis’s battle tactics lessons. Only the night previous, he’d shocked the hell out of her by waiting until the lights had gone out to feather his fingertips over her body for nearly an hour before sliding his hand beneath her shorts and lazily stroking her to climax, pressing his other hand against her mouth as she came.

The color of his thoughts had been changing lately, however, growing darker and needier as the days passed. Today had been the worst so far; it seemed that his eyes followed every move she made, including every stroke of her fingers through Saracchian’s crest. She was surprised he’d lasted this long, young and virile as he was; he’d been exuding a cloud of intoxicating pheromones that sent a flash of heat through her every time he was near. She’d all but begged him to let her take care of him these past few days, but it seemed someone was always in the camper, and he was still apprehensive about any sort of ‘inappropriateness’ outdoors.

As he glared at her and clenched his jaw for the third time in ten minutes— _jealousy_ , of all things, coiling in his mind—she’d decided she couldn’t take it anymore. Noctis was asleep against Byrrus; Prompto was facing in the other direction, engrossed in something on his phone that was frustrating him; and Gladio was buried in the latest book he’d picked up in Lestallum— _The Business of Agriculture_. That left the camper free, and if she worded her request properly, she could get Gladio to keep a lookout without giving away anything about their relationship. Just this once. It wasn’t as though they didn’t know she and Ignis were sleeping together, after all.

“Kaloreth bamiam, Saracchian?” she asked, chucking the bird lightly under his beak so he would raise his head. She stood slowly, raising her arms above her head and stretching her spine straight, wiggling her hips a little as she did so. She didn’t need to turn around to know that his eyes followed every shift of her body—could almost feel the burn of his stare as she bent to touch her toes before standing.

Walking over to Gladio, she leaned in to speak into his ear. “Would you mind keeping watch while we go back and start dinner?” Gladio looked up at her, smirking, but his expression turned serious when she said in a solemn voice, “Please.”

Gladio nodded. “Sure, Princess. Anything for you. I can maybe buy you a good forty-five minutes, but the kids are gonna wanna see the evidence as soon as we get back, if ya know what I mean.”

She kissed him on the cheek, saying, “Thanks, babe.”

“No problem.”

Turning to Ignis, she tilted her head at just the right angle, their code to request a connection when they were in front of the others. He nodded, and when she poured herself into his head, she held out her hand to him.

_Take my hand._

_Your hand?_ he asked, reaching out for her. _Take my heart. Take my life._

_Wow. Who knew beneath all that logic and stoicism lay a true romantic?_

_Romantic?_ he snorted. _I’ve been sitting here all afternoon contemplating what a feat I’ve committed managing to keep off you as long as I have._

They strode to the camper hand-in-hand in silence, and as they drew nearer, he sped up so that he was pulling her along behind him, attempting to relieve the heaviness in his groin and the tightness in his trousers by adjusting his straining erection as decorously as he could manage. It pleased her to no end, seeing him want something and reach out to take it, especially when that something was her. But as she sent him the tingles sparking through her nipples and the warm, wet ache building in her center, she knew that no matter how much he wanted her, he would do his best to make her feel adored within the boundaries of their time constraints. How would that manifest itself today, she wondered?

The tension snapped the moment he slammed the camper door closed behind him, his shoulders heaving with his labored breath as he grabbed her by the arms, spun them around, and shoved her against the back of the door.

 _You’ve got a thing for walls, don’t you?_ she asked as his mouth flew to hers with a moan.

 _I enjoy the feeling of pressing myself against you,_ he replied, pulling back long enough to yank her sweater above her head and toss it on the bench behind him. His grey Crownsguard t-shirt followed suit before he leaned against her to rub his skin across hers, shivering against the sensation.

“Ignis,” she keened as his tongue laved across the shell of her ear, his breath all she could hear as he panted in desperation.

He seemed to have learned after his first two times that it was better to eschew talking aloud for speaking directly into her mind so that he could occupy his mouth with other, more important, things.

As his teeth found her shoulder, he said, _You’ve consumed me, Rose. I’m afraid I don’t know how to control this constant desire. Am I going mad?_

 _Yes_ , she said with a smile into his neck. _I’ve been wanting to lick your jaw all day, I swear. You’re too beautiful for this world._

 _Please,_ he begged as he left a wet trail across her collarbone, pulling down the straps of her bra and reaching behind her to undo the clasp, _tell me it’s not just me. Tell me you feel this too._

He yanked himself straight with a gasp as she ran her nails lightly down his back, his eyes opening wide before slamming shut with a shudder.

 _Are you kidding me? I’m drunk on your pheromones. Don’t ever stop,_ she said as she practically ripped his belt open and began fumbling for the button. _Oh gods, did you know the skin on your neck is just as soft as the skin on your cock?_

She could feel his cheek heat beneath her lips as he replied, _Can’t say it’s something I’ve noticed, no._

There was only one awkward moment as she gripped his shaft and tried to lead him to their bunk; they’d both forgotten that he hadn’t been barefoot as she had, and he’d nearly tripped over his trousers still wrapped around his feet as he stumbled after her.

“That’ll teach you to never wear boots on your off days,” she chuckled, leaning to suck on the tip of him briefly before bending down all the way to slip his boots off.

“I’ve learned my lesson.” He kicked free of his trousers, bent to pick her up, and carried her to their bunk, careful not to knock her against anything in the small space. He tried to set her down on the mattress so he could lie over her and do everything he felt he should have done their first night together, but she managed to roll them both over and pin him underneath her.

“Oh no, you’ve been in charge twice now. And we don’t have the time for what you have in mind. Next time?” she asked breathlessly, careful not to hit her head on the bunk above as she straddled him. She could feel his disappointment, another lament and worry that he hadn’t taken the time he felt he should have on her body that night.

 _Stop worrying about that, love._ She leaned forward to press her lips against his. Gods, they were so soft. He reached out to thread his fingers through her hair as he opened his mouth to push his tongue between her lips. _That night was_ supposed _to be about you. I promise, the first opportunity we have the time, I’ll let you take all night if you want._

_I’m holding you to your word._

Laura paused a moment to take in the sight of him—lips and cheeks flushed with desire, viridian eyes wild with want, and his mind overflowing with awe and tenderness—before rising up and impaling herself to the hilt of him with a sigh. Even after having done this twice, the fullness of him everywhere at once was almost too much to bear. She savored the warmth of his body the feel of his breath beneath her as he raised his hips against hers, and she ran her hands over his face in reverence as he closed his eyes.

“Rose,” he groaned before biting his lip. But his eyes flew open again as she began moving on him—grinding and rolling and thrusting—and his hands shot to her hips, gripping tightly in an attempt to slow her down before skimming up her ribs to send chills down her spine. His fingers roamed over her breasts, pausing at her nipples before taking them between his thumbs and forefingers, pinching lightly.

“Ignis,” she gasped, knowing how much he loved it when she said his name like that, and he rewarded her with a crooked grin and a wave of smug satisfaction. That expression was replaced with his eyes rolling up into the back of his head and his mouth falling open, however, when she retaliated by mirroring his actions.

She knew well what most men liked—tits, ass, and legs. But Ignis found her body as a whole a work of art to pay homage to. His favorite parts of her were the expressions on her face, the grace of their movement together, and the way her hair would brush over his bare skin and create a dark curtain around their faces when she leaned over him. Most of all, he adored her skin—was addicted to touching it with his hands, lips, tongue—his entire body. The man enjoyed touching and being touched almost more than the physical act of sex, and if he was going to spend the rest of his life with her, it would be her honor and greatest pleasure to soothe that ravenous hunger.

He ran his fingers through her hair from her shoulders to her waist, brushing the backs of his hands to trail down her body as he did so. Exhaling sharply in an effort to control that tightening coil feeding off both their pleasure, he spoke into her mind.

_By the gods, your hair is the night and your skin made of starlight. My Rose, you are the Goddess of the Dawn in my mind, Queen of the Night Sky under my hands._

Her hearts ached at his praise, and she leaned over him for a moment to caress his lips with hers, worshipping him in return by running her palms over his jaw and down his shoulders and chest as she pushed herself back up. But he wasn’t done talking. The man who was so well-known for being stoic and laconic, who had described his first sexual encounter to his best friends as ‘a good thing,’ was surprisingly verbose as she rode him.

Curling his spine up to take the tip of her breast in his mouth, he murmured, _My body is yours to do with as you will. Take it, and use it for your pleasure, I beg of you._

 _It goes both ways, Ignis,_ she reminded him with a gasp as he slipped his fingers between her legs. _I am just as much yours as you are mine._

 _Yes,_ he replied, his eyes opening wide as he gazed into hers. _I can see eternity in your eyes, Rose. I can see our future._

Though she knew he was simply being poetic, there was something about the age of his eyes in contrast with his face as he said those words. In his mind, he was so young, idealistic, beautifully kind, but his soul was ancient as any immortal she’d ever met—thoughtful and wise beyond his years, slow to provocation, but swift and vicious in defense. He would use the same hands to worship her as to kill in defense of those he loved without hesitation—reach out with his last breath to help someone in need as to reach out to squeeze the life out of someone who threatened the light. Was this what pain created in a man? Perhaps just this man.

He was even rarer than she’d originally thought, and to her everlasting astonishment and honor, he’d given her permission to keep him.

As she leaned over again to leave more licking, breathy kisses against his lips, cheeks, and jaw, the new position changed his angle of penetration so his prominent rim caught her just right as he nearly pulled out of her. Gods, she was getting close, and she could tell by the way his body was growing rigid beneath hers and his breath was releasing in open-mouthed whimpers that he was on the cusp as well.

“Please, Ignis,” she moaned with a shuddering breath into his ear, her grip on his cock tightening involuntarily as their movements grew hurried and uncoordinated.

“Gods, Rose, I can’t—"

His fingers sped up for a moment before his back arched sharply, his head pushing back into the mattress as he bared his teeth in a grimace and emptied himself inside her. That tide of tingling warmth washed over her, and with a quivering intake of breath, she leaned down to clutch his shoulders as she followed him.

Collapsing on top of him in a breathless heap, she buried her face in his neck, suckling at the velvet skin gently and inhaling the scent of coffee, sage, and sex. Gods, he always smelled so good. Minus the sex, his scent always reminded her of Christmas in London—that first pot of coffee as they opened presents together with the turkey just put into the oven. He was her home, in more ways than one.

She could feel him fighting himself in his mind—trying not to find offense in this wanton tryst in the middle of the afternoon, hoping he’d done enough to please her, worrying about having dinner ready in time, wondering how much humiliation he would have to endure from Gladio—but then she heard him say to himself, _make now always the most precious time._ His mind finally went still as he sighed in contentment, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pressing her face snugly into his neck. She counted out 147 beats of his heart as she skimmed a hand back and forth over his cheek, his afternoon shadow making pricking sandpaper sounds in the quiet camper.

_I’ve missed you._

She felt his head shift as he looked down at her. “Was that your thought, or mine?”

“Both?”

He sighed. She could feel the skin beneath her lips heating up again and knew he was about to say something he found ‘scandalous’ as he tried to keep the thought from her.

“Perhaps when we get back out into the wild, we can come to some sort of . . . arrangement. These past two weeks—it’s been . . . difficult.”

“You mean hard?” she said, smiling into his jaw. But she sent him a wave of relief at his words. These past two weeks had been difficult for her too. 

He chuckled. “If you prefer.”

“It’s true you lose some of the romance during these ‘wanton trysts,’ especially when they have to be rushed like this, but they have their uses.”

 _If you promise to keep a lookout,_ he said hesitantly, _and if we remain fully clothed . . . perhaps during our foraging and sparring sessions?_

“Mmm,” she replied with a nibble to his collarbone. “Now I’m really looking forward to getting up in the mornings.”

Turning his head to press small kisses along her cheekbone, he sighed, _I suppose we’ve run out the clock. As it is, the rice won’t be ready by the time they get back._

“So don’t use that Saxham rice then. Takes, what? Forty-five minutes? Would’ve had to start it as soon as we got here. I’ve got some Jasmati rice from Earth—takes half that.”

“So we have time then,” he said with a grin as he ran his blunt fingernails down her spine, making her shiver.

“Insatiable lech,” she laughed with a smack to his chest as she pulled off him. “We still have to get cleaned up, and as careful as I was with your hair, it’s a bit mussed in back.”

After they had straightened everything that needed straightening and were making the finishing touches to the evening meal, he asked, “Why Gladio?”

“Are you kidding me? That man is the sappiest closet romantic I’ve ever come across. I can feel the mush dripping off his mind any time we so much as come within six feet of one another. And he desperately wants to see you happy.”

He blinked down at the fish fillet he was removing from the bone. “I could quite easily see Gladio as a romantic at heart, but surely not interested in my happiness, personally?”

“Gods, as intelligent as you all are, you can be a bit thick sometimes, you know?”

“Well, enlighten me then.”

She gestured with her knife, pointing it at him. “Oh no, this is something you two need to figure out on your own.”

Ignis put down his filet knife and reached for his can of Ebony. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to start rationing these. The shops haven’t had any for weeks due to the blockades, and I’m starting to run low on my own supply. Even coffee beans are getting more difficult to find.”

Laura looked at him, a smile curling at the corner of her mouth as he took a sip. “I know you live and die by that stuff, though I can’t imagine how good it could possibly be coming from a can, but I do have an extensive collection of roasted and unroasted beans myself, you know. You’re welcome to them.”

“Do you really? I thought you were more of a tea connoisseur.”

“I’ve been known to enjoy a good espresso from time to time,” she said leaning over to bump him with her shoulder.

He grimaced, a tinge of pink rising to his cheeks. “I can’t have espresso,” he said carefully.

She tilted her head, attempting to read more than embarrassment from his mind, but he’d already learned so well how to not think about what he didn’t want her to know and was concentrating on deboning the next filet.

“Sounds like there’s a story there. Tell me!”

But he was saved from giving himself away as she felt the others arrive—just as they were transferring the meal to the plates. Though it was unnecessary, they both heard Gladio’s voice ring out in loud, casual conversation with Noctis and Prompto, and Ignis turned to her with a gentle smile.

“That _is_ rather kind of him. I’ll have to find some way to make it up to him.”

“So, meat and Cup Noodles for the next week then? Honestly, love, I think a smile would send him over the moon.”

She handed Prompto, Noctis, and Gladio a plate as they came to the door, giving Gladio a peck on the cheek and a sincere “thank you” as she did so, to which he grinned boyishly.

“You’re welcome. Both of you,” he said seriously, nodding to Ignis, who smiled bashfully into a returning nod of thanks.

It started raining as Laura and Ignis joined them outside with their plates, and Ignis cranked the canopy out to cover them so they wouldn’t have to crowd into the camper to finish eating. They were only halfway through their meal when Laura felt that burning spark of prickling gold light up on the edge of her consciousness. She stiffened, tilting her head in concentration and reaching out to increase her range of awareness. It wasn’t the first time she’d met this being, so recognized the mind—the second burning gold spark hovering just beyond, however, she didn’t. It recoiled in distaste at her passive touch—a telepath, then, like the dog—but made no move to retaliate. The mind felt similar to Umbra—gold with the magic of Eos and probably immortal, which likely made the stranger and the dog either Messengers or High Messengers.

Laura couldn’t blame the mind for recoiling; it seemed she and the higher servants of the Crystal, even Noctis sometimes, still caused one another pain, despite her best efforts to align. She sent out a broad-spectrum apology, not making true contact as was custom, and did her best to shutter her passive telepathy to the immediate area only as a show of respect and peace.

 _What is it?_ Ignis asked from beside her, but she answered aloud.

“Noctis, your immortal dog is here,” she said jerking her head in their direction. “And he’s brought divine company.”

“Umbra’s here?” he said as he nearly knocked his chair over to stand.

“Uh . . . who’s the divine company?” Prompto asked.

“Dunno,” Laura replied as she and Ignis stood to follow. “Let’s go introduce ourselves, shall we?”

The alabaster-skinned, black-haired woman awaiting them in the deserted corner of the ranch was certainly an immortal to Laura’s eyes, even if she couldn’t see directly into her downcast gaze. That golden aura tasted enduring, and the woman’s head seemed to jerk slightly in her direction on her arrival in recognition. Yes, immortal identity mutually established then, now what? Based on her experience with other immortals on this world, she would either be completely fine, if a bit flinchy; or she would question her identity before attacking.

The Messenger apparently chose to be fine with Laura’s foreign aura, for she turned to Noctis and began speaking in an unnecessarily ethereal voice as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Hear me, oh King of the Stone. By the Storm Sender’s blessing will the path to the stone be opened. When the covenant is forged, the Oracle and the Ring shall await their King at the walls of water.”

Great, another speaker of riddles. As it was physically impossible to lie in Lliamérian, her people had become masters at speaking truths to mislead, a practice she was most certainly not raised with and never could fully adapt to. Still, she had some skill, having practiced for hundreds of years with beings far older than she was, even if she had been trounced every time. Though she didn’t doubt the veracity of this woman’s claims, the speech pattern was similar, and that familiar irritation bubbled inside her, provoking Ignis to turn his head questioningly in her direction.

To her surprise, Gentiana, as Noctis had just called her, turned her head in Laura’s direction again. She withdrew from Ignis’s mind abruptly in an attempt to prepare herself for whatever was coming, and she saw him flinch out of the corner of her eye. She’d have to apologize for that later, as she knew from experience that such a quick retreat was not a pleasant sensation.

“When the Warriors of Light seek the crime, Pitioss shall light the dark path of the shame of the Six.”

Laura raised an eyebrow before responding, “All right then.”

She’d been waiting for something like this—some clue that would lead her from the trailhead she’d discovered back in Insomnia. She had no idea what Pitioss was, but accounting for thousands of years of language drift, the place sounded suspiciously like Pit of Eos, or Pity Eos.

As she had left the throne room that fateful day, attempting to prepare for a journey with not nearly enough information, Regis had mentioned that the [painting outside](https://i.imgur.com/1oyVhtl.jpg) depicted the prophecy. She’d found the nearest passing person in the foyer, an advisor named Caeli, to tell her everything about it. She’d had a feeling that the seventh depiction of divinity in the painting with a sun’s corona near her head had been more than just an artistic representation of justice, or even the Oracle, as he’d explained to her. She knew a Goddess of the Dawn when she saw one—would know one better than most—and it couldn’t have been a coincidence that the entire planet had been named for the Greek Goddess of the Dawn.

But then she’d learned that the gods were physical beings, and still everyone only ever spoke of the Six. When Titan recognized her golden power as she defended Noctis, he was likely too far away to feel the burn of it, its alien nature. He’d asked in fear and anger if she’d been Eos, which confirmed the seventh deity’s existence, at least. He’d only become violent again when she denied the question, but still, she wondered whether the Six were involved somehow in the demise of the seventh—perhaps even with the scourge that might have been represented by the darkening of her robes and wing in the painting. Given that that golden light, the power of time, light, and life, ran through all the gods and their messengers, Laura had to assume that Eos had been their mother. What would make gods kill their own mother? If they were anything like Earth gods, it could have been anything.

Of course, there were far more worrisome aspects of that painting, like what had happened to either [Ignis’s or Prompto’s eyes](https://i.imgur.com/M0ulnsb.png), but she couldn’t dwell on that. Prophecies could either be taken literally or figuratively. Either one of them could have suffered a permanent injury, a temporary setback, be titled ‘the blind hand of justice,’ or even simply be represented as a man who didn’t see something coming, so honestly, the depiction was meaningless. If he completed his training with her, Ignis, at least, would be labeled as the man who could see in the dark, and that was some comfort. All she could do in the meantime was keep a weather eye out and deal with the issue when, or if, it came.

It seemed Gentiana hadn’t finished speaking to her, as she tilted her head a little and continued, “At the walls of water, the Mate lives or dies by the Anathema’s choice.”

Laura could feel Ignis’s eyes on her, so she did her best to keep her face relaxed and blank as her mind worked frantically at the woman’s words. ‘Anathema’ was easy enough to figure out, and of course the Mate was in danger—had been in near constant danger since he’d left the city. Closing her eyes, she called on the golden power in her mind, immersing herself completely in the timelines as she so rarely did. There. Maybe? She couldn’t be certain, but the point appeared as though it was still in flux—for now.

With the power still forefront in her mind, she opened her eyes to Gentiana, allowing them all to see the vortices of swirling gold in her eyes. Her voice was doubled when she spoke, and even after all these years, the sound of it creeped her out, likely because she so rarely called on it.

“There is no choice to be made. The Anathema has made a vow—whatever the cost—and the Fire shall burn its full potential.”

As she released the bond, Gentiana bowed her head. “The Anathema must take care that a new path is not born of the labor, or the Fire will perish with all.”

“I am very well aware.”

Gentiana faded away as the others were distracted by Umbra’s return, and she grumbled, “Damned immortals. There must be something about the infiniteness of time that makes them incapable of uttering a straight sentence. It’s too fracking hard for them to say, ‘Hey Noctis, go get Ramuh’s blessing then head to Altissia and see Luna to get the ring.’”

“You managed okay, I thought,” Prompto laughed. “You guys sounded like you were exchanging some super-secret spy passwords or something. So she’s immortal too?”

“She’s a Messenger,” Ignis replied, “a spirit faithful to the Oracle.”

“Oh, uh . . . for real?”

“Have you heard of Pitioss?” Laura asked Ignis as Noctis bent to take his notebook from Umbra.

“No.” He tilted his head at her the moment she looked over in response to his sharp tone.

 _Something’s frightened you. What’s wrong?_ he asked as soon as she’d made contact.

_I’m so sorry, love. This is one of those things I can’t tell you. You’ve traveled in time yourself; you know the consequences should I say or do the wrong thing._

He frowned. _I . . ._ _understand,_ he replied, but she could feel the intense frustration coloring his mind. He would never be happy when he couldn’t share her burdens, and it was a feeling she was familiar with, as she hated that she couldn’t simply wipe his away with the wave of a hand either. But this was one of the many costs of being with her, knowing that she knew snippets of the future but couldn’t share them. It was a hard cost, a high cost, and he at least seemed to be understanding that _before_ they bonded and not after.

“Let Luna know I’m okay, and she won’t have to wait much longer. We’ll be together soon,” Noctis said to Umbra in a choked voice, and through that ever-so-slowly clearing haze of numbness, Laura could feel the most tentative wave of a fledgling feeling.

 _He loves her,_ she said in awe as she stepped toward Noctis and Umbra. _I wasn’t sure he did._

Ignis came up from behind her, watching as he sent her images and words in explanation: the death of his nanny; the injury and subsequent time spent in a wheelchair; his change from a bright and lively child to a sullen rebel, intent on sneaking out, necessitating Ignis to tag along and take the fall when they got caught.

She clenched her teeth in response, knowing what ‘taking the fall’ must have entailed for him should his tutors have found him and not the King himself.

_I have no regrets on the matter—not even now. He was never the same after the incident, but I would like to think those excursions brought him back to life somewhat. And through it all, there was Lady Lunafreya. If you believe me to be a private man, it’s nothing compared to the jealousy with which Noct has guarded his relationship with her. Even I don’t understand it fully._

“Gentiana’s doing the telepathy thing,” Noctis said, standing to turn to her.

“Is she hurting you?” she asked, stepping forward. She reached out with her mind to probe the area around Noctis’s head, but she found the thread of foreign thoughts was gentle as it should be—even if it was _still_ without his express permission.

“No, she’s giving me instructions for getting the Storm Sender’s blessing. Come on. Let’s get outta this rain,” he said, starting to jog back to the camper.

Prompto punched a hand in the air as he ran. “Great! So we just gotta get Ramuh’s blessing, then we hit up Altissia. Finally!”

“That entails passage aboard a ship. Caem may serve us now as it did them then,” Ignis said.

“The hidden harbor. Hmph, just might work. I’ll have Iris set it up,” Gladio said.

Prompto skidded to a halt under the canopy and shook the rain out of his hair like a dog. “So . . . in the meantime . . .?”

“We get some sleep, then head into the Storm first thing tomorrow morning,” Noctis said.

“A rendezvous with Ramuh . . . can’t wait,” she said sarcastically.

***

“It’s not good to throw daggers in the dark,” Ignis remarked, but Laura felt the accompanying distaste that made it more of a complaint to her mind.

“It would be nice to brighten things up in here,” Noctis agreed.

_I believe . . . I can feel you. I think?_

She checked his mind to see what it was he was feeling—the gold, the eddies on the air from her aura rolling off her. It seemed he could even taste the immortality in it, though he hadn’t identified it as such yet. She pointed it out to him, and he nodded his understanding.

_Can you reach out farther? Can you feel Gladio walking next to us?_

They had spent the entire morning running their chocobos across what seemed all of Duscae so Noctis could collect the power of Ramuh from the electric trees placed hours apart from each other—with nothing but wilderness, Imperial soldiers, and a constant downpour in between. Compared to other moronic errands they’d been sent on, this wasn’t so bad, so Laura had kept her disdain mostly to herself. Still, the chocobos would be requiring extra care tonight, and even though they were now collecting the last of the blessing from a cave out of the rain, the humans were shivering with the cold. Perhaps some soup and soothing oolong tonight at Wiz’s would keep them all from getting ill. 

_Yes, soup,_ Ignis thought longingly.

For now, she was trying to distract him from the cold and what he refused to acknowledge as his fear of the dark. His explanation was that he disliked the unknown of it—that everything he used to make decisions was nearly completely cut off, and nothing good had ever happened to him in the dark. It was then that she realized that he loved the adventure when he was on it, but that fear of peril was another matter. Certainly, he would ride out and meet it without hesitation when faced with it, but he’d rather not seek out the danger if possible. It explained so much about him—that duality every time she’d pulled him off on an adventure before they got together, the way he would advise Noctis not to drive at night but then happily jump out of the back seat to face whatever daemon had surfaced in the middle of the road, his presence at this very moment in this dark cave teeming with daemons.

 _I can feel the sensations you taught me in combat—the heat of his body, the shift of his clothes, the vibrations of his feet on the ground, but nothing from Intuition._ He shivered, pulling his damp jacket lapels more tightly around him in an effort to trap in body heat.

 _He’ll be a bit harder to feel. Try sensing life instead of magic. Every being emits an electrical signal._ She wasn’t certain he’d be able to manage it, as it always seemed easier for a being with magic to detect auras, but electrical signals were so much more subtle.

Laura felt again Gentiana’s presence wash through the cave and float toward Noctis, and she did her best to bite back her irritation. She’d been gentle and helpful so far, and even though Noctis didn’t seem to mind the contact, she had still never asked permission. That sort of behavior was punishable by death on some worlds, but she had to keep reminding herself that she’d be a hypocrite of the highest order if she passed judgment on the practice.

“Are you all right, Noct?” Ignis asked.

“Gentiana again,” he said, shaking his head clear.

“What did she say?”

“That Luna is awakening the Six.”

Laura had only heard snippets here and there about Lunafreya—mostly from radio reports and Ignis—so she didn’t know much about the young woman they had originally set out to meet. But any mortal that gave up her life to heal the sick and could stand in front of Titan with that blazing look in her eyes certainly earned Laura’s respect. She seemed to do her duty without any thought of reward or what was fair—yet another young person on this world giving up her only life in service to others. What was it about this planet that seemed to create such extraordinary people in such abundance? She hoped they had some time to get to know one another in Altissia. Perhaps she would join up with their group afterward to take on the Empire.

_I cannot feel an inkling of Gladio, but straining so hard to do so, I believe I can feel Noct._

_Excellent job, love,_ she said with pride, and his mind preened a little at her praise.

_What’s that shimmer on the air just up ahead? It feels wrong._

_Some daemons just bled into existence. We’ll probably be seeing them soon. You’ll probably never be able to identify them through Intuition, but you might be able to sense their weaknesses. Can you?_

_No,_ he said, shaking his head with frustration.

_Don’t push yourself. You’re learning so quickly already, I promise._

It was easy to spot the purple glow of the thunderbombs when they turned the corner, and Ignis called out softly to the others, “Daggers and swords everyone. And take care not to be electrocuted, if you please.”

 _Cheater,_ she accused with a smile.

 _This_ is _war, after all,_ he replied smugly. _It’s only natural I use every tactical advantage I have, including sight._

_We’ll probably be working too far apart for me to keep a connection, but don’t think I won’t be watching you dance with one. Go on._

As she assisted Prompto, Laura kept an eye on Ignis as he worked. There was no doubt in her mind that he was improving; even when he ran up beside Noctis to lend a helping hand, he was getting better at doing so without injuring himself as he kept his feet and daggers moving. But he was still trying too hard. She’d told him several times that his analytical mind was a treasure before and after a battle, but things simply happened too quickly in the middle of one for him to use it. She could see it on his face—the way he overanalyzed, attempting to anticipate what the enemy would do. Though he’d learned to take in information from more sources and had vastly improved the sensitivity of his senses, he wasn’t treating them equally still, wasn’t allowing his instincts to take over.

“Hey, really good work there, Ig,” Noctis said when they’d finished. “Noticed you been taking it easy on the potions lately.”

“Much obliged, Highness,” Ignis said with a nod. “I thought it prudent to cut back, if only for the sake of our funds and your exertion.”

“I’m just glad we’re not getting hurt as much,” Noctis said quietly. “To hell with the money and the magical energy.”

“It’s amazing,” Prompto said with a sigh. “The power of the gods in the palm of your hands.”

Ignis came up alongside her again as they continued walking and tilted his head. “Never dreamt I’d see lore come to life before my very eyes,” he said.

 _Among so many other things,_ he said with a wave of affection.

_The adventure is only just beginning, Ignis, but I assure you, the feeling is definitely mutual._

“Leaving Insomnia was eye-opening, but this is mind-blowing! I mean, first Laura, now Noct’s collecting the power of the Six? It’s like—the whole world’s gone crazy.”

“After Ramuh, we go see Leviathan, right?” Gladio asked as he jumped up on an outcropping of stone to see up ahead.

“Indeed,” Ignis replied. “Though I daresay Noct has to collect the Power of Kings from a few more tombs before we set sail for Altissia. We were fortunate the Tomb of the Clever was close enough to check off as we rested.”

“We shoulda done the Tomb of the Tall while we were at it,” Gladio grumbled.

Noctis scoffed. “Even with the chocobos, no way am I headed back into that hellhole without the car. We’ve no idea if that was Ardyn or if that area’s always like that.”

“Damn it,” Gladio swore before letting out a massive sneeze. It seemed even the self-proclaimed living furnace had caught a chill from the rain, and it wasn’t helping his mood much. He’d been trying to contact Iris ever since they’d left Wiz’s, but she hadn’t answered her calls.

“What’s wrong, Princess? You’re not going to get a signal this deep into the caves,” Laura said, walking over to where he stood with his phone out, worry pouring off him. Ignis followed close behind to maintain their connection.

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed. “Just thought I’d try again. I told her to be ready to move out at a moment’s notice.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” she said, threading her arm through his. “Hopefully we can hitch a ride to go check on her as soon as we’re done with this.”

“Yeah.”

“Guys, what was that sound?” came Prompto’s voice, sounding small in the distance.

“I didn’t hear anything, Prom,” Noctis called out. “You should come back closer to us though.”

Laura stretched her mind out, feeling for Prompto’s location in the dark cave, as not even his travel light was visible. His prickling mind was easy to find, but there was something there, something nearby she couldn’t identify. It almost felt like a mind, but not quite?

 _A daemon about to appear, perhaps?_ Ignis asked, reading her surface thoughts with some alarm. It didn’t feel the same as a daemon, but either way, it wasn’t as though anything they were going to find in this cave was going to contain rainbows and kittens.

“Prompto, come back over he—” she called out, but before she could finish, they heard him scream. The ear-piercing sound seemed to go on forever as it bounced and echoed off the rock walls, decreasing in amplitude as it sunk down one of the bottomless drop-offs next to their path.

“Prompto! What happened?” Ignis asked as they rushed in the direction she could feel him from. _Is he all right?_

“This way. He feels like he’s all right, but why isn’t he answering?” Laura asked.

“Prompto!” Gladio roared. “Are. You. Okay?”

They had almost reached where Laura could feel his frantic mind when she heard him scream out, “No I’m not okay! This place is LITERALLY the worst! And why’d it have to be a SNAKE?”

They found him huddled in a corner, shivering near the last electric tree Ramuh apparently wanted Noctis to touch. Honestly, there was something a little perverted about a god asking a boy to run around and stroke his various lightning rods, she thought.

“Prompto! Are you all right?” Ignis asked, bending to check him over and helping him to stand.

 _Your mind can be an appalling place to reside, sometimes_ , he said with some amusement.

 _Better get used to it,_ she said cheekily.

“I’m so glad to see you guys! She dragged me down here. Dunno where she went.”

“She’s there,” Laura said pointing in the direction she felt the anomaly. A snake, only a quarter of the length of the midgardsormr, slithered into the beams of their travel lights, her body covered in grey scales and black diamond patterns that shimmered in the indirect lighting. In place of a snake head, however, was a woman’s—or what was left of her. Some of her black dreadlocks had petrified into an icy blue, matching the tone of her pale-blue, horrendously veined face. Her lips were pulled back into a snarl, revealing crooked, human-looking teeth. There was something different about this daemon, though. It was almost as though she was clinging onto her last shred of humanity still; Laura could still feel that hint of a spark of her in her mind. There wasn’t enough left for Laura to connect and put her out of her misery as she had with the man on the side of the road, unfortunately, but there seemed to be enough of her left to speak.

“My baby. Where . . .?” the snake-woman hissed at them.

“Sorry, can’t help you there,” Noctis said.

“Noctis,” Laura chastised.

Of course he didn’t understand yet. It was so easy to forget that these things were once human when they all ran around every night chopping at them with abandon.

She looked up into the face of the snake looming above them, her hearts full of pity and regret. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

_Rose, what is it?_

_She was once human. But that doesn’t change anything. We have to take her down regardless. All this suffering . . . breaks my hearts._

“Noct! Do something!” Prompto screamed, pointing at the snake-woman as she lowered her head and raced at them.

“Don’t ask me. Do it yourself,” Noctis replied, jumping out of the way and summoning his sword.

Ignis sighed. “Yes, there’s the attitude of leadership we were all hoping for,” he said under his breath as he summoned his daggers, and Laura chuckled in response. In a louder voice, he said, “She’s a naga—greatswords, daggers, and ice. Be sure to put on the proper items, or it’s going to be a toadally bad day for all of us.”

“Oof, Iggy,” Prompto winced.

 _See you on the other side, love,_ Ignis said with a smile as he felt her pulling from his mind. She gave him a wink before he stepped up to Noctis’s side.

After the disaster that had been the midgardsormr, the naga was relatively simple for them to handle, especially since Laura was able to join in this time. The naga still moved as quick as lightning, forcing both Laura and Noct to warp-strike and hold her in place as the others caught up to concentrate an attack. Ignis still seemed to be struggling as he ducked and wove with the snake’s movements, but she could tell his reduced visibility was limiting how much he could see and deduce from the naga’s musculoskeletal structure. Perhaps they could do a telepathic lesson in Lestallum soon so he could see firsthand how her mind processed a battlefield. Even if he still couldn’t grasp the full scope of her thoughts, it might be a step in the right direction.

 Prompto finished the naga with a holler and a toss of an ice spell in her face.

“Bring back . . . my baby!” the creature lamented as it melted into a pool of miasma.

Wherever humans went on this world, if they even could go anywhere after having been daemonized, Laura sincerely wished the woman peace—and that she had been reunited with her baby.

“If her baby’s anything like her, I ain’t going near it!” Prompto shouted at the puddle seeping into the stone at their feet.

“She was confused,” Laura said in a low voice. “They used to be human, remember? She had just enough presence of mind to miss her baby, down here, alone, in the dark.”

“Oh man,” Gladio said, running a hand through the short hair on the side of his head. “I didn’t think about it that way.”

Prompto went quiet as Noct muttered, “Yeah.”

As Gladio, Noctis, and Prompto turned toward the tree, which reminded Laura a little too strongly of the White Tree of Gondor and all the dear friends she’d lost in that battle, she reached out a hand to Ignis, who took it with a squeeze.

Noctis pressed his hand to the trunk of the white tree, and there was the expected sound of booming thunder as the cavern was shot through with purple lightning. She fought the urge to roll her eyes; after all, she herself had a flair for the dramatic—it was almost a defining trait of the immortal—but it seemed the Eosian gods took the inclination entirely too far.

Laura heard Ignis’s sharp intake of breath as Noctis turned around to reveal the sinister red glow fading from his eyes. Horror clouded his mind at the sight of his childhood friend rendered unrecognizable by the power of the gods.

“Let’s get outta here,” Noct said in a low voice, turning to jog back the way they came.

 _What was that?_ Ignis asked as they followed after him. _Is that the manifestation of the Mark of the Fulgurian?_

 _Power always comes at a cost,_ she said, and she didn’t understand why she had to tell each of them this. Had they not seen how badly Regis had suffered at the power of the Ring?

_Yes, but this felt more like gathering allies to assist in taking back the kingdom. What concerns me is that we didn’t even ask for a price._

“Eh, I expected more fire and brimstone,” Prompto said casually.

_Honestly, he doesn’t have much of a choice._

_No,_ she heard him sigh out loud. _He never did—ever since he was a child. He’s known so little of true happiness in his life, though I did my best._

“Some gods are friendlier than others, I guess,” Gladio said.

 _It doesn’t seem as though any of you have seen much happiness_ , she replied, reaching out to run a hand across his shoulders _._

 _We manage to find some, in the moments in between,_ he said with a significant look in her direction.

“But not all of ‘em,” Noct mumbled. “Poor Luna.”

“Perhaps you had better console her in person,” Ignis suggested.

“Just a boat ride away!” Prompto said. “Can’t wait to actually get out and see the ocean!”

The sight that greeted them all as they finally stepped out into the light was a most welcome one. The rays of the sun were bright and warm as they shafted through the trees in cheery yellow beams that reminded Laura of transporter pads, and the recent rains seemed to have made the trees glow green with life. When she breathed in that scent of petrichor, she noticed Ignis followed suit, a serene expression settling across his formerly tense features. She glanced at him, and they shared a quick, tender smile in remembrance.

“Hey, it stopped raining!” Prompto cheered over the sound of Noctis’s phone ringing and the roaring engines of an enormous ship flying overhead.

Noctis put the phone to his ear and listened to the speaker on the other end, and Laura didn’t need extrasensory abilities to know he was getting some bad news, as much as he was groaning.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out,” he said. After he’d hung up, he turned to the four of them. “The Regalia’s at an imperial base. I’d say it’s time we get our car back.”

“You do know it’s a trap, right?” Laura asked, as much as she hated to. She could never tell when this group was just insane and ready to spring a trap—a tactic she was almost always completely down for— or when they were naïve enough to take what was presented to them at face value. Their return to Insomnia after the fall and camping with an immortal infected with Starscourge had proven to her that they had one or the other trait in reckless abundance; she just wasn’t sure which.

“Of course it’s a trap,” Ignis replied. “But with a little planning, we may be able to arrange things so that the trap snaps on the hand rather than the rodent’s neck.”

Somehow, she doubted it would be that simple. Ardyn was playing some sort of game, not only with her, but with them as well—helping them along and testing their mettle at the same time. But he hadn’t made a true move just yet, so springing the trap it was. Perhaps they would get lucky, and he wouldn’t even be present for this little heist of theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure if you go around digging, you can easily find the fan theory this chapter begins to explore. Don't do that unless you want spoilers. I'll credit and link them when most of the spoilers are revealed. These theories have already been debunked or denied by SE or Tabata or whomever, but I'm going for it because the ideas are just too fun not to use.


	33. Chapter 33

He couldn’t discern the precise moment she’d detected his presence, not being entirely certain that she hadn’t simply been pretending not to notice as he lazily meandered through the maze of shipping crates and scaffolding to get a glimpse of them unseen. The moment he’d laid eyes on her, however, her chin tilted slightly in his direction as she nodded gently in greeting, apparently choosing to ignore the infantile display of testosterone taking place in front of her. Given the gods’ abilities, he wasn’t at all surprised that she knew this strutting and posturing would bear no fruit. He himself knew the High Commander would never raise a sword to the boy with his sister’s loyalties bound as they were.

He was curious, however to find them here. The children would undoubtedly feel a keen sting at the loss of Daddy’s vehicle and risk life and limb to get it back, but why had she allowed them to fall for such an obvious trap? She did seem fervent in that newfound sense of adventure of hers, or perhaps she simply wanted to play again.

Once again, he wondered what her angle was. She could have told the boys that first moment they met in Galdin to steer clear of him, but she clearly hadn’t, as proven by their second meeting in Lestallum. The devious pretender must have been playing a game on both sides then—a nasty habit of the gods—toying with allies and enemies alike as puppets, forcing them to dance for their own unknowable amusement. Perhaps he could use her deception to his advantage—reveal her betrayal at just the right moment to obliviate the little King’s trust in his allies and all hope of succeeding in a mission he hadn’t even truly been informed of.

As Ardyn’s own puppet held a blade to the Shield’s throat, he noted that the Advisor was the one to react most dramatically to the threat while the girl crossed her arms over her chest and leaned into her hip, bored with the proceedings.

“Be still. All of you,” the High Commander intoned, holding a hand out to the Advisor to stop him from . . . what exactly was the boy planning to do with his comrade held at the edge of a blade? These foolish youths clearly had no sense when it came to those unyielding and ancient rules of engagement with a vastly superior foe.

That the world was bequeathed to these moronic children was a crime against Eos. Much as he despised the Kings of old, they’d had cunning, subtlety, power. Now the vim of his own bloodline was watered down to this gormless child and his hodgepodge collection of misfits. All these years he’d waited as the world rose and fell around him, dancing and twisting to the tune he played; it was an insult to his talents that he should have to exact his revenge on this spoiled babe. Even the Father hadn’t provided the source of entertainment he’d been looking for; the elder Caelum had all but laid down and died like a sickly cur the moment the Empire had arrived. The little Prince would need tempering to burn off the chaff and transform him into a true King, to make his efforts worthy of the long years he’d endured, and perhaps he could find some pleasure in that process.

Ardyn’s eyes narrowed in loathing as he witnessed the Shield step in to protect the Prince from his puppet, like a loyal dog trained from birth to defend that which he wasn’t even aware wasn’t worth the effort. How many would offer to throw away their lives for this mildewed dishrag?

“The King’s sworn Shield,” the High Commander sneered.

“You’d better believe it,” the Shield growled with clenched fists.

Oh, to be young again and find these charming little displays appealing rather than dull. At least he wasn’t alone in that regard, as the girl seemed just as eager to get to the main event as he.

Ardyn had always prided himself in his steadfast patience, the patience that could only come from settling in for a vigil that would last two millennia. He’d stood by as a youth and watched as the rivers of Solheim ran red with blood and charred flesh from the roiling wrath of the Infernian. After being betrayed so many years later, he had been the muse whispering in the ears of the founding emperors of Niflheim—guiding, molding, shaping—snippets placed strategically here and there over the course of those two thousand years to source them with Solheim’s lost secrets of technology. He’d been the one to lure the Infernian away from the path of light only twelve years previous with the very plague they’d cursed him with.

That the god had managed to be tricked into getting yet _another_ body infected proved their weakness and stupidity—stunned asleep as they’d been after the minor matter of their family spat. Summoning his lover, who awoke in a fit of rage and aegis for her lost husband, had been only too easy as well. Murdering her astral body with the same weapon that had kindled the War of the Astrals had given him not only a shiver of pleasure, it had also paved the path for a major climate shift in the Empire, transforming the vast deserts and lush forests of Niflheim into a tundra wasteland and forcing the Emperor to grow more and more desperate with avarice for the abundance of resources in Lucis.

The starvation and suffering of his people had convinced the Emperor to listen to Ardyn’s sighs for the use of daemon weaponry against the shining, wealthy city of Insomnia, despite the populace’s enmity of them. He’d so easily deceived that old fool in using that same populace to create the MTs and diamond weapons that would be strong enough to defeat the Old Wall and take back Ardyn’s birthright. Encouraging the Scientist in creating his clones, one of whom was currently cowering behind his superiors, had been merely a matter of course.

Yes, patience had defined his existence thus far. But now that Ardyn had succeeded in taking down the kingdom of his true birthright and had both the Infernian and the Emperor in his thrall, this journey of inevitability was coming to a close. He found he was experiencing that unfamiliar edge of impatience to see it reach its conclusion—whether that was the sweet relief of eternal sleep at last or the complete destruction of all mankind at his ascension. Even he wasn’t certain which he desired more at this point.

Moving the boy and his friends along the path was to have been a simple matter. Even now, he watched as the Shield’s knees collapsed under the sheer strength of his puppet’s arm before the High Commander gut-punched him hard into the side of the Regalia. The Clone rushed to his side like a mother hen, and even the little Prince stepped between them, summoning his Royal Armiger in yet another show of testosterone. Only seven Royal Arms after all this time? How disappointing. Yes, this would have been a dull matter indeed had it not been for her.

“Hey! Want a go? Let’s do it.”

He supposed, at least, the child was growing some gall under the Glacian’s tutelage, which was intriguing, but then again, she herself had grown a prodigious amount of gall since last they’d met twelve years ago. It wouldn’t have been the first time her temperament had drastically altered in the name of her love. He’d attribute it to the fact that her astral body had been lost in such a traumatic fashion so recently, but that hadn’t seemed to affect the Infernian’s pliability. Perhaps this new Messenger form of hers simply had a more dominant personality. Perhaps this had turned personal between the two of them. What a delicious thought!

He’d known, of course, the moment he’d seen her, who she was. Her astral body destroyed, she’d had no choice but to migrate to her sub-pantheon of Messengers, the forms with which not even Ardyn was completely familiar. He couldn’t understand why she’d chosen to reveal her High Messenger status and continue to deny it so vehemently. He could smell it on her. She positively reeked with the power of Eos, and though he’d felt not the slightest twinge of pain nor pleasure in over two millennia, since the gods had last retired to their slumber, the concentration of it burned at his mind as he drew near, reminding him that he was the Anathema, the Accursed, the Unloved—as though he’d needed the reminder. He, after all, had been the one awake and moving in the world all these years, not they.

His puppet tilted his head, contemplating. “Should the Chosen fall, that too is fate.”

And that was his cue to step in and save the little retinue, play the hero and keep them on their toes, even if his charade was only kept up by her mercurial good graces.

“I’d say that’s far enough. A hand, Highness?” he asked with a simpering sneer.

It was amusing to see the Advisor clench his fists and lean forward at the ready as though he were actually capable of doing some damage. The child had truly believed he was being subtle and intelligent when he’d likely planned this little break-in of theirs. But to be a scholarly man out here in the wild, summoning weapons and sleeping among the animals like a barbarian, the boy must have had more viscera and dedication than even the Shield to stray so far from his true nature. What had the Prince done to inspire such loyalty?

“Not from you,” the Prince muttered.

Well, it wasn’t the boy’s oratory skills that inspired them, that was certain.

“Oh, but I’m here to help,” he replied with sincerity.

“And how is that?” the Advisor cut in.

Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if this boy tied the Prince’s boots in the morning—protective and mothering as he was. Not even the Shield was standing this close and with such a defensive posture. If the Prince were ever to be forged into a king, the Advisor would certainly have to be taken out of the picture—perhaps at the same time Ardyn finally tired of toying with the Prince’s own personal goddess and disposed of her.

“By taking the army away.”

He turned on his heel, casually strolling to where she stood looking up at him through her eyelashes with a come-hither smolder. Allowing his voice to drop and soften, he leaned in to speak, noticing that she didn’t pull back in the slightest from his presence. Did she truly not fear at all how quickly and easily he could infect her?

“When next we meet, it’ll be across the seas.”

She snorted indelicately, her head nearly brushing his chest as she bent to laugh. It had been a very long time indeed since someone had been foolhardy enough to show him the back of their neck, and the man had paid dearly for his mistake. Curbing the sudden desire to run his hand along the soft skin there before reaching up with his other hand to grasp her jaw and snap her neck in two, he waited for her faux mirth to subside to hear what words she had planned for him. He wasn’t yet ready to reveal himself to the retinue, and why spoil the fun they were both having? Patience.

“What?” she chuckled as she straightened, rolling her eyes. “Where you plan to ask me out on a date for hot dogs and ice cream?”

This was the game for which he’d decided to keep her alive. After seeing her in Galdin for the first time, he’d intended to get her alone and scourge her right away in Lestallum, perhaps use her to pick off the retinue one by one as they traveled closer to Gralea. But then those first words issued from her mouth, brazen, fiery, and flirtatious instead of frigid and boring. He’d never known her to be like that—never known any being, mortal or immortal to withstand the abomination that was his aura long enough to be aught but disgusted or suspicious of him. She’d suddenly made this farce diverting, and it wasn’t as though she could do him permanent harm. It was a sign he’d been too long on this world that he no longer considered even the gods worthy adversaries.

Until he’d met her, weariness had weighed down his bones and apathy had settled in his mind like a cancer. He’d grown tired of these frivolous mortals—with their brief lives and everything in them they found important—mere _things_ like food, family, wealth, and land. There had been nothing left that this world could offer him. He’d beaten it already. The rest was merely down to details. But then she’d gazed into his eyes with her ancient ones blazing with that spark of mischief—a wordless offer to play—a challenge. She might have been the Ice Mother, but now? She was so very full of fire, and he always did love to toy with fire, even if she couldn’t truly burn him.

He was about to tell her that he preferred something a bit bloodier for his repast, but she cut him off before he could utter a sound.

“You know what? I’m getting a little tired of you running hot and cold on me, so why don’t we cut to the chase?”

“And what did you have in mind, my dear?” he purred, having no idea where this conversation was going, but absolutely thrilled to find out. Would she truly reveal her identity here and now? In front of the children?

Her hand flashed out suddenly, grabbing for his lapel and yanking him down toward her face. He allowed the manhandling—found the sensation rather intriguing, as it had been the first time in memory anyone had voluntarily touched him out of aught but violence. She leaned up on her toes, her cheek nearly brushing his as the scent of wild time washed over him. That burn intensified, and he had to clench his fists to keep from summoning every weapon in his Royal Armiger and slicing that body of hers to ribbons—and wasn’t that a curious desire? Perhaps his hatred ran deeper than he’d realized.

Her breath tickled at his hair as her murmur reached his ear, “I . . . am an alien from outer space. Take me to your leader.”

He shoved her away from him much harder than was strictly necessary, but she only needed to take two steps back until the Shield caught her around the shoulders. Her eyes were lapis jewels glittering with mirth as she grinned with the abandon that only came from the edge of insanity.

Did she truly think she could fool him with such childish nonsense? As she’d drawn closer, he could practically taste the power of Eos on her, could have licked it straight off her cheek as she uttered her damnable falsehoods, bold and impertinent in his ear. How stupid did she think he was?

“Oh, you’ll most certainly meet the leader, my dear,” he said, clenching his jaw a brief moment before continuing, “and you’ll see just what a _wicked_ end he has wrought for you.”

Perhaps the loss of her husband, the loss of her body, and the time spent bouncing back and forth between her two Messenger forms at the sides of the King and Oracle truly had addled the goddess’s mind. No matter her malady, she’d needed reminding of the damage he could do to her should he choose. For whatever stakes she was playing this game, she _must_ remember that he was the coeurl and she the arba in this scenario, and _oh_ what fun he would have in hunting her down!

Slipping back into his usual cadence, he turned to the Prince. “Fare thee well, Your Majesty,” he said with an elegant dismissal to the puppet, “and safe travels.” 

“You guys . . . know that guy?” he heard the Gunslinger quaver as he sauntered away with the High Commander.

“Ravus Nox Fleuret, first son of Tenebrae . . .  and elder brother to Lady Lunafreya,” the Walking Encyclopedia replied automatically, as though the boy couldn’t help himself.

“Have you managed to locate our dear Oracle yet, High Commander?” Ardyn asked as they strolled unhurriedly to the awaiting Magitek engine.

“No,” he replied in a low voice. “She and the Ring continue to elude us.”

“Oh, dear. How unfortunate,” he fretted. “However shall we summon the Tidemother without the Oracle?”

“I’m certain she’ll appear the moment _Prince Noctis_ arrives,” he spat.

Did this boy truly think he was fooling anyone? His clear disdain for the Prince of Lucis was genuine, certainly, but not even the idiotic Emperor believed that he would hunt down his own sister and drag her back to the hands of the Empire. But he was right about one thing; the Oracle would appear at her fiancé’s side, at which point, she would no longer be of any use.

And as for the Glacian—he’d continue to play with her until that time as well, just to see what she would do. Perhaps they would all be at the altar together, and he could turn her and use her to kill the Oracle and the Advisor in one fell swoop.

_Till death do we part, indeed._

A death in Cartanica and perhaps a family reunion for the Clone would leave the poor helpless Prince alone, so thirsty for the Crystal’s power that he’d leap into it himself and be reborn of his own revenge.

Ardyn took a deep breath, the corner of his lips raising in a satisfied smirk. So very soon now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you drop me a line, I can link you the fan theory video a lot of this history comes from, but it requires you to be strong and not click even Part 1 of the video, as there are major, major spoilers for the story. Up to you!
> 
> Oh, and heads up, changed the timeline. Ardyn's time is supposed to be after the War of the Astrals and Solheim. I made them concurrent because reasons.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the part about Noct's vision, you'll need to see the full Omen trailer, not just the one that was played in the game. It's hyperlinked in the appropriate spot.

_Are you completely mad, you daft berserker?!_ he shouted as they approached Lestallum that evening, and he glanced up to the rearview mirror to see her wince at his tone. Churlish though he was behaving, he found he simply couldn’t contain his horror, and though he very much wished for the physical satisfaction of bellowing his dissatisfaction out loud, he could hardly do so in the Regalia in front of everyone.

She’d always encouraged him to be himself around her; well, now let her see the worst of his tempestuous temper and see if she still loved him.

_You yourself told me to go for patronizing lies, and I couldn’t think of a lie more patronizing than the truth._

_That was most certainly **not** what I had in mind, _ he replied, unashamedly sending her bolts of fury and fear in equal measure.

“I can’t believe you said, ‘Take me to your leader,’” Prompto giggled. “I mean, that was freaking epic!”

“You got some balls, Laura, I’ll give you that,” Gladio said with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face and staring out the window. Knowing he was growing impatient to make it to the city and check on Lady Iris, Ignis eased his foot down on the gas pedal a little. They had already delayed three days after receiving the Fulgurian’s blessing to plan the break-in to Aracheole and obtain the Shield of the Just from nearby. Fortunately, the second errand had been merely a matter of opening the door, for once.

“Yeah, the look on his face was priceless,” Noct agreed.

_And of course I still love you when you’re angry with me, you lunatic. Please, feel free to rage all you like._

He could feel her, oddly enough, growing more and more aroused the angrier he got with her, and while her reaction only served to irritate him further, he could hardly fault her, as he’d been the first of them to feel the initial stirrings of it. Of course, his increased irritation only spurred his ardor to shove her up against something and silence that impetuous mouth of hers, which continued to throw fuel on the bonfire they were currently building between them.

_Good to know, because I am **not** finished. I could taste it this time, Rose—his scourge, his immortality; something is wrong with that man. He’s clearly clever enough to have made it this long. What if he dares to imagine your absurdity is truth?_

“I’m just glad that it’s still a saying on this planet. The comedic impact would’ve been lost completely had it not been,” she said with a casual laugh, and he gritted his teeth and glared at the road in response.

_I’ve spent lifetimes watching humans deny the existence of aliens right under their noses, even after an invasion. Hell, keeping it a secret from an entire planet was my job once. Can you imagine the stretch he’d have to make to apply a fictional concept to something he already has a clear explanation for? Intelligent though he is, I doubt even he could manage that much._

_You may be correct, but I don’t care for the cost if you aren’t. His interests may lie in assisting us now, but he could kill you the moment there’s no longer a mystery._

_I am not without my own defenses, you know. Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus, as they say._

Though he didn’t understand her words, he could feel the general meaning behind them through their connection, and he wondered at her statement’s implications. Still . . ..

_The same could be said of him._

“We’re almost there, Gladio,” Laura said gently, and she leaned forward and pressed a hand against Gladio’s shoulder as he slapped the screen with a finger to hang his phone up.

_Did you understand what he said to me after? The tone of his voice implied there was a hint there, but I didn’t get it. I’m sure it was some sort of religious hint. All his others have been._

_No. My purview of religious study only extended to that which I was personally invested in, unfortunately,_ he said, shame coloring his thoughts.

“Can you tell me the second we get close enough to feel her mind?” Gladio asked.

“Of course, babe. I don’t know her as well as I know you guys, so my range is a bit shorter with her, but I promise, I’ll tell you the very moment I feel her.”

_Yes, how dare you not have the foresight to know everything about everything in the world in your twenties? Honestly, stop beating yourself up, love._

Ignis clenched his jaw and pressed his foot down a little harder on the gas pedal. _I still haven’t forgiven myself for not recognizing him as the Chancellor in the first place. He gave us his name for gods’ sakes._

_I know, and as I said, stop that. The Prince and the Shield are no less responsible than you for recognizing enemy diplomats on sight. Besides, it isn’t as though that knowledge would have changed a thing._

Laura leaned further over the front seat, doing her best to rest her chin against Gladio’s shoulder and wrap an arm around his chest despite their height difference. To Ignis’s surprise, Gladio reached up with both his hands, holding on to her arm as though it were a lifeline and allowing his head to droop against it so that his lips rested against the inside of her elbow. The deep sigh that emitted from him didn’t sound at all like Gladio; it sounded helpless and defeated.

Ignis was still growing accustomed to this concept of duality in conversation—holding two completely different dialogues with two sets of emotions that often conflicted drastically with one another. With the introduction of Gladio’s apparent anguish, he found his fire with Laura fading to concern for his friend instead.

_I know he’s worried for Lady Iris, but is he all right?_

_No. He’s taken a lot of personal hits lately. Guilt for the day you died. This Ravus thing hit him harder than he’s letting on, and if he loses anyone from his House, it’ll be yet another thing he’s failed at. And that’s not even taking into consideration the loss of his father._

_What can we do for him?_ he asked, pressing his foot down even harder on the gas pedal. They were drawing close now—a couple more miles, and the car had grown silent with the tension.

_I don’t know. It’s not as though this was a test of combat skills. It was muscle against muscle, and I can’t help him with that._

_He seems to have no issue with you beating him so frequently._

_It’s different with me. I’m an ally. I beat and was endorsed by Cor, and then I wasn’t even human. To not be able to protect Noctis from his enemies is shaking him down to his foundation._

“Something’s wrong,” Noct said unnecessarily as they approached the outer edges of the town at full speed.

Lestallum was always bustling with activity, no matter the time of day or night. Many of the food stalls were open twenty-four hours, and the smoke and scent of cooking meat from the open-air grills always wafted on the heavy air and seemed to settle in a cloud on the road. The numerous sidewalk cafes were always overflowing with patrons drinking beer, dining, and engaging in raucous fellowship. Musicians, as Ignis well knew, were always picking up a tune and running with it, playing it for hours on end until the block party they’d started overflowed the corner on which they were playing. The city had always been a most cheery sight—a relief after the dark desperation of daemon hunting in the world beyond.

But in the light of the setting sun, it stood out starkly that what should have been the busiest business hours of the evening, when there should have been all manner of people loitering in the middle of the road and on the sidewalks, was now a ghost town. Food stalls were left deserted in mid-preparation, with the remnants of charred meat sending billowing fumes of acrid smoke in the air. Chairs were pushed back from tables or lying on their sides. The streets were silent and completely deserted.

“I felt her, Gladio,” Laura said emphatically, squeezing him tightly, “for just a moment as we passed by the hotel. She seems all right, but she’s frightened.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” he blew out on a sigh as Ignis angled the car, threw it into reverse, and jerked it into its usual space. All four doors were open before he’d removed the key from the ignition.

As they jogged toward the Leville, Noct turned to Laura. “You got any hints? Are people hurt? Is there something we can do to help?”

Laura shook her head. “I mean, it’s not like I can do a population census or anything, but it feels like people are okay in general, just terrorized and holed up in their homes.”

“I wonder what happened. There has to be something we can do,” Prompto said with a frown.

Ignis took the stairs to the Leville two at a time, careful not to stray too far from Laura lest he break their connection as he responded, “Our first goal is to check in with Lady Iris and find out, but due to the absence of a threat at the moment, it doesn’t appear as though there’s much we can do.”

Lady Iris was awaiting them in the suite that she, Jared, and Talcott had been sharing. She seemed to have collapsed in one of the armchairs, but the moment Gladio had nearly knocked the door down to get to her, she jumped to her feet, throwing herself into Gladio’s arms.

“Oh, Gladdy! The Empire came while you guys were gone. They took our phones, disconnected all lines of communication outside the city . . .. None of us said a word about Noct. They just showed up and then . . . poor Jared.”

Ignis could just see from where he was standing that tears were beginning to leak from Lady Iris’s eyes, leaving black trails of makeup down her cheeks as she cried. Gladio’s arms tightened around her as his whiskey-colored eyes grew hard and dangerous.

_Oh my gods, Ignis._

“What do you mean? What happened to Jar—?!” Gladio started in alarm, but Lady Iris cut him off.

“There was nothing we could do!” she screamed into his chest.

_He’s been killed, hasn’t he?_

She didn’t need to answer. He knew only too well what a Chamberlain placed with the care of the last remnants of one of the most important noble families of Lucis would do when one of its heirs was threatened by the very enemy that had killed their King—the same thing he himself would have done. It wouldn’t have mattered for a moment to Jared that physical protection was not part of his job description or that he was far too old and without training to stand up to Imperial soldiers.

And he could _feel_ Laura’s anguish at the loss—anguish for the death of a good and intelligent man like Jared, anguish for Gladio and Iris, anguish for Talcott. Losing Jared was as much of a blow to the Amicitia family as losing Ignis would have been to the four of them. He could even catch the corner of a thread of her thoughts—what might have happened had Ignis been placed into service for a different family and never received Crownsguard training. He would have died just as surely defending his liege lord against the Empire.

_But that didn’t happen, love._

_In this universe,_ she said ominously.

He didn’t get the chance to even put to words the horrible question forming in his mind because the front door to the suite creaked, and they all whirled, ready to draw their weapons on a potential threat. But Noct, who had the best view outside the small crack in the door, held out a hand to stop them and crept forward, squatting down. Stretching out his senses, Ignis could make out the sound of sniffling, and as the door open wider, the rest of the occupants of the room took in a collective breath at the sight of young Talcott. He was so small and vulnerable with his fists clenched at his side—a tactic of control Ignis was well familiar with—but clearly trying his best to hold it together in front of them all and failing. The poor lad began to lose his composure at the sight of Noct’s bright blue eyes looking up at him, and his sniffling turned to barely contained gasping sobs.

Noct kneeled in front of the boy, a grim expression on his face, and said in a low voice full of sorrow and regret, “It’s . . . not right. We should’ve been here.”

“I—I couldn’t stop them,” Talcott sobbed.

It was a ridiculous sentiment, of course. In front of such a vastly superior foe, the child would have been killed immediately had he attempted anything beyond the struggle he’d likely put up. Still, that guilt for his own weaknesses and sense of responsibility were all too familiar to Ignis, as they were currently coiling viciously around his own heart. Noct was right. They should have been here.

_You’re being just as ridiculous as he is, love,_ she said gently. _We had no way of knowing and no way to get here on time, even with the chocobos._ _It’s possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That’s not a weakness; that is life._

“But I won’t let the Empire get away with it,” Noct said, his voice still low, but now overlying a thick layer of steel. “They’ll pay for what they’ve done. I promise.”

_There’s the King,_ Laura said with pride.

_Indeed,_ Ignis agreed.

“I believe in you, Prince Noctis,” Talcott said, sniffling.

He bowed his head in deference to royalty kneeling before him and turned to go, but Laura stepped forward. Ignis felt their connection stretch like a rubber band before the stress of the distance was too much, and the light of her mind faded from his.

Gods, he would always hate that feeling of losing her, but it wouldn’t be long before he’d never have to feel that sense of emptiness again. It would take them a couple of days, at least, to assess the situation in Caem, and with the boat, lighthouse, guest house, and grounds all protected by very old and powerful magic, it offered them the perfect safe haven to bond. Once they’d decided, he’d thought it would be difficult to keep his mind focused on any task set to him, but he’d hardly had time to give in to the anticipation, as they’d been preoccupied ever since—and now this heartbreak.

“No, Talcott,” Laura called out to him as she leaned over and held her arms out. “Stay with us.”

An image slammed into Ignis’s mind—stronger than he’d ever experienced—as the boy turned and threw his arms around Laura’s neck. Dim blue light filtered through grey fabric walls, terrifying yips and growls, the sound of the world splitting open with an ominous creaking. He couldn’t breathe. Then her voice in the darkness calling his name and telling him that she was there. He could almost feel her shoulders beneath his trembling arms, feel her fingers running through his hair. He shuddered at the phantom sensation, shoving the images aside in favor of reality and rebuffing any sort of emotion that threatened from the vision.

As Laura settled onto the couch with Talcott’s sobbing form huddled in her lap, the rest of them sat nearby on the couch and in the armchairs.

“He was always there for me whenever I needed him, ever since I could remember,” Iris said tearfully. “He used to make me Moogle Mog Mousse every time I had a bad day at school. That wasn’t even his job.”

Gladio had been silent up until that point, his teeth clenched tight and his eyes blazing with agony. Ignis could only imagine what he must be thinking right now—another failure that couldn’t be helped, yet another loss.

“Yeah,” Gladio muttered, looking down at the floor, “There was this one time I took Dad’s sword to training when I wasn’t supposed to. Brought the wrong bag home by accident, and he drove all the way out to the Citadel to get it before Dad could find out. Lambasted me himself for it though. He always had our backs.”

“What’re we gonna do now?” Prompto asked, looking over to Noct, but it was Lady Iris who spoke.

“Jared already sent Cid and Cindy down to Caem to start working on the boat. He knew you’d be needing it to get to Altissia.”

“Wow,” Prompto breathed. “He really thought of everything.”

“Yeah,” Noct agreed. “So we get a room and spend the night. Iris, Talcott, Dustin, and Monica will head to Caem first thing in the morning. We’ll follow behind later.”

Ignis nodded to Noct before standing. “I shall make the arrangements for a room immediately, Highness.”

“Go ahead and get a smaller room, Ig,” Gladio said. “I’m gonna stay here tonight.”

“As you wish, Gladio” he said gently before turning toward the door.

***

It was no surprise that Ignis couldn’t find rest that evening, between Noct at his side tossing and turning and Laura on the other bed with Talcott and Prompto. Thankfully, she’d chosen another melody to hum to the inconsolable boy as she ran her nails over his back, but her voice seemed to follow him into his dozing, morphing and twisting into that melody that he had hummed and played over and over in his mind to comfort Noct and himself as they grew up together in the dark.

He was startled from his shallow sleep by a sharp gasp from beside him, and he could just make out in the darkness the shadow of Noct bolting upright, his breaths labored in the silent room.

“What the hell was that?” Noct whispered to himself.

An inquiry was on the tip of Ignis’s tongue, but it was Laura who answered first in a soft voice.

“The tides of time have been disturbed. You saw [the vision](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZymd6r4wGg) as well?”

“Yeah, my dad was there. And I . . . I did terrible things. That’s not the future, is it?”

“No,” she said in a harsh tone, though she still kept her volume low. “It was a vision of the past.”

“I don’t understand,” Noct said. “I—I didn’t—I would _never_ kill Luna.”

Ignis did his best to stifle his sharp intake of breath but wasn’t completely successful. Though Noct didn’t seem to notice, he imagined Laura, whose hearing was so much better than even Ignis’s, had heard him. Not that it mattered—his mind was likely screaming to even her passive touch that he’d been awake.

“You did. In another time, another universe. Several universes, from the looks of things,” she said in a faraway voice. “All that power, Noctis. Even the light can lead you to darkness if you aren’t careful. Every time a Royal Arm slices into your chest and every time you receive a blessing from a god, a little of your soul is taken in payment.”

“I know,” Noct said, much to Ignis’s horror. “I can feel it—their memories burn, but that doesn’t mean that I—”

“It’s because of your father that it won’t come to pass here,” she interrupted. “The Crystal showed him the vision of what happened in those other universes when you were sent out on this mission alone, and he decided you needed your friends.”

“Is that what he was asking forgiveness for?”

She seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering. “Among so many other things, but yes. Tying the fate of three innocent young men to yours brought him no end of guilt, but to ensure you succeeded . . ..”

“Laura?”

“Yes?”

“Is that what happened to you? Did you lose your soul?”

Her intake of breath was sharp and deep, and Ignis found himself holding his breath for fear he would miss her answer.

“You’re not taking it easy on me tonight, are you?”

“Think I’ve earned it,” he muttered.

“Yes. You have. It’s just . . . even after lifetimes, it’s difficult.” She sighed before continuing. “In a less ‘epic quest’ sort of way, yes, I did.”

Ignis couldn’t imagine Laura without her soul. He’d seen it in every moment he’d been with her, even that first day in the throne room when he’d seen the fire blazing in her eyes as she met the Marshal’s blade. She had always been so very alive, larger than life even, glittering with joy and wonder and ferocity. Stripped of that, who had she been? How had she managed to come back to life?

He didn’t know the answers to any of these questions swirling in his head, but he did know one thing: the four of them _would **not**_ allow the same thing to happen to Noct, no matter what.

“And that’s why you failed?”

“I would like to think so, yes. From personal experience, these things rarely come down to being the absolute best with a blade, gun, wand, lightsaber, airship, whatever. It always seems to be a matter of heart and soul, and mine were taken from me.”

Noct’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I’m scared, Laura.”

“Good,” Laura replied immediately, and Ignis had to clench his teeth against his indignation at her response. Even though he had used her words in the past to advise the Prince, he didn’t care for the fact that she was advising him directly now. It wasn’t that he felt threatened; after all, his and Laura’s expertise tended not to overlap. But like Gladio, Laura seemed to lack gentleness and tact when doling out wisdom.

“I know you’re scared, but being afraid is all right. Fear can make you faster, and cleverer, and stronger.”

Even though Ignis lay on the opposite side of the other bed, farther from Laura than Noct, her voice seemed to grow closer to him so that she was whispering in his ear—her tone laced with that power and indefinable _feeling_ he’d come to know so well. He’d been so very wrong about her intentions and lack of tact, and he shivered at her words as she continued.

“Because if you’re very wise and very strong, fear doesn’t have to make you cruel or cowardly. Fear can make you _kind_. It doesn’t matter if there’s nothing awaiting out there in the dark, so long as you know it’s okay to be afraid of it.

“So if you listen to nothing else, listen to this: you’re always going to be afraid, even if you learn to hide it, and you boys do seem to excel at that. But fear is like . . . a constant companion—always there, and that’s okay. Because fear can bring us together. Fear makes companions of us all, Noctis.”

Noct blew out a breath. “You’re almost as good at this as Iggy.”

 “Almost. Not quite,” she chuckled. “Helps when I have the words of the finest beings of the multiverse swimming in my head all the time.”

Ignis felt that stirring of affection for the both of them, thinking of him at a time like this.

It grew quiet in the room for a moment as the three of them breathed, staring up at the ceiling. Outside, Ignis could hear the sounds of life beginning to stir—cart owners likely cleaning up their abandoned wares from yesterday, shop owners rolling up the gates in front of their doors, people calling out and asking after one another’s safety.

“My dad . . .,” Noct began, “was he . . . did he seem okay with everything? With me?”

Laura sighed. “Regis was . . . concerned. Your attitude didn’t reflect your readiness for the trials he knew you were about to endure. But he had faith. He always had faith in you.”

“I wish I’d spent more time with him. Wish I’d told him everything I wanna tell him now.”

“You’ll see him again, one day.” She hesitated for a moment before saying, “You know what happened to him, yeah?”

“Yeah, I know, but it won’t be the same with him in the Ring.”

They had all known that upon His Majesty’s death that he was to become a Lucii, but this new information regarding the bonding of souls made Ignis wonder. Would Noct’s father take a piece of his own son’s soul when the time came? Yes, he would, for it was part of his duty and Noct’s that they complete this mission to save their people, but that it had to come to this was unthinkably cruel to the both of them. How many more would have to commit atrocious acts, surrender pieces of themselves as the five of them had, in order to save the innocent? Would they themselves even be innocent enough to appreciate what was left when this was over?

“But let that feeling fill your heart nevertheless,” Laura said. “There are still people you need to tell, and keep telling—your brothers, Luna. You need them. They keep a part of your soul held here on Eos in their hearts, so you’re still here no matter how much you lose to the fates. Your family keeps you who you are, Noctis. They remind you why you’re fighting.”

“Yeah,” Noct muttered, and even though his single-word response sounded as though the Prince wasn’t interested, Ignis could tell from the tone of his voice that she had touched something deep.

“Hey,” Noct said, his tone lighter. “What happened with you and my dad?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were like . . . holding his hand or something that day. Ended up on all the gossip sites. They were all talking like he was gonna announce a new queen any second. And the way you talk about him, it’s like you’ve known him way longer than a day.”

She snorted. “I can see the royal gossip mill doesn’t change much from planet to planet. I’d known Regis for all of an hour before the fight with Cor, but familiarity tends to come quickly when mind searching is involved. After the match, I was only comforting him, asking him if there was anything else I could do.”

“Heh, that sure sounds different from the rumors. Thought I was gonna have to start calling you ‘Mom,’ or something. But then you and Iggy . . ..”

She snickered quietly. “Oh gods, could you imagine? Me as your stepmother. I think I’d rather die.”

“Hey,” he said with a low chuckle, “feeling’s mutual, ya know. Anyway . . . thanks.”

“I’m no Ignis, and I never will be. But my experience is at your disposal if you ever need it, Noctis.”

“You know you can call me Noct, right? Think we’ve been through enough.”

“I didn’t want to assume.”

“Did Iggy not give you permission either or something? Notice you always call him Ignis.”

Ignis had noticed this as well, but he’d never asked her the reason for it. It hadn’t occurred to him that she’d been awaiting his permission.

“It’s not that. I have my own reasons for not using his nickname.”

“Okay . . . I guess. But yeah, you can call me Noct.”

“Then get some sleep, Noct,” she said, and Ignis could hear the smile in her voice. “Staying up all night getting the car back . . . a couple of hours isn’t going to cut it.”

***

The moment he’d closed the front door to the room behind them, Ignis tugged Laura’s hand and pulled her into the alcove by the ice machine. Angling his legs and leaning heavily against the warm, humming machine, he pulled her against him, a hand wrapped around her back and the other holding her neck against his chest.

“Are you all right?” she asked softly, wrapping her arms around his waist.

There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to ask, but he settled for, “Yes.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you last night.”

He increased the pressure of his arms around her a fraction. “Talcott’s need was far more important. Why don’t you call me ‘Iggy’?”

She huffed a laugh, and he could feel her warm breath puff against his collar. “Everything you overheard last night, and that’s the first question you have? My god, I love you. Would you prefer if I called you that?”

“Not necessarily,” he said, letting his lips rest in her hair and bringing the hand on her neck to her temple in request. “I have no preference. I was merely curious. And I thought it prudent not to ask after the rest, as those words weren’t meant for me.”

“Some of them were, as you very well know. And as for the name . . . prejudice of my upbringing on Earth, I suppose,” she said as he felt his head grow comfortably heavy with her presence. “’Iggy’ is a common name for a pet iguana on that world, and I can’t help but see the animal that couldn’t possibly describe you any less every time I hear it.”

“May I see it?” he asked.

“Are you sure?” she said, amusement coloring her tone. “You won’t be able to unsee it after I show you.”

“Mmm, perhaps not then,” he said with a chuckle, angling her face so he could fuse his lips to hers. He caught the flavors of mint and tea before he pulled away. “Suppose we’d better get to sparring before we leave.”

“Oh, we’re not sparring today,” she said, grinning and pulling on his hand. “We’re going for a _very_ disorienting walk.”

Of course he had no idea what she was talking about; it was one of the many things about her he’d fallen in love with. He settled into that familiar feeling of anticipation, for once not even feeling an inkling of dread . . . except perhaps at her use of the word ‘disorienting.’ She beamed as she led him down the stairs, across the lobby, out to the fountain, and sat down on one of the wooden benches on the far side, patting the space next to her.

“You’re doing really well,” she said as he settled next to her. “But stuck in your own head with your own thought processes, which are the very same ones holding you back, is an issue.”

“And so you mean for me to see another perspective today?” he asked, growing excited at the prospect of seeing the world as she saw it and perhaps getting some insight into this impossible task she had set for him.

“Easy there,” she said with a smile. “We’re still not bonded. It won’t be as immersive this way, but it’ll put you on the right track, I think.” She wrapped her forearm around his and entwined their fingers. He squeezed her warm hand, sending her his affection and anticipation.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered, and he obeyed.

_Try to feel every sensation I’m sending you as thoroughly as possible. Lose yourself in it._

Ignis sat and let his mind grow still, immersing himself completely in every thought and sensation Laura was sending him, but it was _so much_ —too much. She had closed her eyes as well, evidently, as he wasn’t receiving a single piece of sensory information from sight. But he found he had enough to deal with in the tidal wave of information flooding his mind.

Sound was what he noticed first, likely due to the multi-tiered fountain at their backs. Not only could she hear the splash of each drop into the water below, but she could also hear the way it echoed off the stone walls and flagstone floors, the way it seemed to die against the wooden bench they were sitting on. She could hear the people walking by—the shift of their clothes, their voices, their breathing, and even the way those sounds interacted with the environment around them.

Feeling was next: the way the wind blew through the streets, the direction it came from, and how it moved against their surroundings; the gentle heat from the rising sun; the eddies and currents of life and magic, including those issuing from his very own aura, as they floated on the air.

Even small things like taste and smell gave her information about their surroundings. The man sitting on the bench next to them had apparently put an appalling amount of onions on his hot dog, and the scent increased ever so slightly as he leaned in to take another bite, releasing more noxious chemical compounds in the air as he crushed the onion’s flesh between his teeth.

_I’m not certain how you can bear living like this,_ he said, grimacing against the nausea building in his gut.

_This is your problem though. You’re concentrating on one thing at a time. Take in how my mind is processing it. You have that beautiful eidetic memory for gathering all this information, but you need to apply Intuition for the technique to work._

Doing his best to understand what she was asking of him, he continued to watch her mind. It felt almost as though he were crossing his mind’s eyes to see the image hidden in a three-dimensional puzzle, and for a few moments, he saw it.

Laura saw everything and nothing at once, instead allowing all the information he’d taken note of crest over her like a never-ending wave, to the point where it was all nearly meaningless. But there was something in her mind . . . her Intuition, perhaps? It was creating an image of the space around them—using that onslaught of sensory input and picking out the important details automatically for her to take note of or react to. He couldn’t see the courtyard in the traditional sense through her mind, but he could _see_ the courtyard—could see the walls and structures in the way the sound bounced and deadened, could feel the steps in the walkways from the footsteps of the other people traversing it, could feel the auras of the people as they walked along. In that moment, Ignis had no doubt he could easily stand up and stride the length of the city with his eyes closed.

As he lost his grip on the ability, Laura said, _And that’s without sight. Imagine what you could do in a fight with it. Your Intuition will tell you what to react to as the sensations wash over you—immediately, and without thought. You could move almost faster than the eye can follow._

He opened his eyes when he felt her stand next to him.

“Come on,” she said with her eyes still closed. “You can keep your eyes open if you like, but stay close as I take you on a walk.”

Even though Laura was the one with her eyes closed, Ignis found he had to rely on her senses more than his as they walked, for he was so deeply saturated with her sensory input that he was too distracted to use his own eyes to navigate.

_The blind truly is leading the blind here,_ he said with amusement as he descended the steps from their alley down to the market.

_This level of saturation will be much easier to achieve when we bond. Too easy, really, almost second nature. But for now, I’m going to pull away, just a little. Try to start using your own Intuition._

The ease with which they’d been traversing the market dropped away immediately, and even with the regaining of his concentration on sight, he found he had to freeze a moment to gather his sense of self and tamp his frustration. He’d been working on this daily for nearly three weeks; surely he should have made more progress by now?

“Hey, Steve!” Laura called out, and Ignis noticed a young, dark-haired man about ten yards away furrow his brow and offer a tentative wave.

“Hey . . . Laura. You all right? You didn’t get hurt yesterday, did you?” he asked, gesturing to her eyes.

“Nah . . . trust exercise,” she explained before giving him another wave and continuing on with a “See ya la’er!”

_Ignis, love, you’re daft. I know you’re used to mastering everything thrown at you, but please keep in mind that I’m teaching you something only a handful of humans can achieve in the entire **multiverse.** And now that you understand the concept, I think you’ll start improving even more quickly._

_How did you recognize Steve from so far away? He hadn’t uttered a sound,_ he asked, trying not to get his hopes up at her words.

He could feel the thread of amusement in her thoughts as she steered them back to the hotel.

_Not human, remember? You think you lost your sense of self back there? Imagine if I showed you what I was getting from telepathy, my time sense, the threads of the multiverse. And what I said about feeling the turn of the planet? Not just pretty words, you know._

He’d forgotten about how much more information her extra abilities of perception must have been sending her, but her response disheartened him. If she could manage all she was, why couldn’t he handle a fraction of it?

_Stop that,_ she chastised. _I’m not. Fracking. Human._ _Confidence, especially with you, plays a key role in how well you do. Believe in yourself, love. I do, wholeheartedly. And when you’ve mastered it? There’s still more I can teach you. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be able to trounce Cor in two seconds flat with your eyes closed, my dear._

_Surely not!_

_Most certainly so!_ she argued, the sound of her voice in his head growing deeper and exaggeratedly formal in a poor attempt at imitating his voice.

_Very amusing._

He was about to step up on to the first of the steps leading to the Leville’s entrance when she grabbed his hand and yanked him off to the dead-end alley around the corner. He knew where this was going the moment she spread her fingers wide across his chest and backed him against the side of the building so as to be less noticed by passersby, and he reached out for her. One last kiss—one more taste of her. One last moment alone together before they began their day. Certainly, they would be in and out of each other’s minds all day, but this was different. He despised and cherished these moments in equal measure.

Ignis closed his eyes, pushing his lips against hers before spreading her lips apart with his own. Broadening his senses, he attempted to feel her as she’d taught him to feel everything else, as she was now feeling him—her warmth, the beats of her hearts, her pine and kithairon scent, the gold of her mind and aura, the life pouring off her, the adoration in her hearts—for him. So very soon now, he’d never have to leave her mind again.

_The sooner we leave this corner, the sooner we can toss the others into the car and get to Caem,_ she said, drawing circles with a finger on the back of his neck.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, straightening his jacket and running his gloved fingers carefully through his hair.

_Tonight, then,_ he said with a smile and a brief peck to her cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "fear makes companions of us all" speech is another one of those taken from Doctor Who.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Gratuitous use of language this chapter—even more than usual.

Gladio wanted to say _something_ to Iggy as he shook the shaker over his fish, but it was like watching a car careen off the road and smash into a wall; he couldn’t move or shout or do anything but stare in fascination. Prompto had been pretty sneaky switching out the salt for sugar, so Gladio couldn’t fault him for not noticing that, but it was his next move that would prove that Iggy had clearly lost his fucking mind.

As he carefully cut a perfect-sized bite of grilled striped barramundi and daintily brought it to his mouth, Gladio cast a quick glance at Noct, who was sitting across from Iggy, wearing one of his spare coeurl print shirts and Crownsguard jackets. It was weird, seeing Noct in Iggy’s clothes. Those finely-tailored suits just didn’t fit Noct right—made the fancy shiny fabric and studding look sloppy and tacky. Instead of adding an air of sophistication, the outfit seemed to make Noct look like he’d just come home wasted from a disco bar after switching shirts with a stage performer.

Iggy stared off at the whitecaps crashing onto the shore, his hair blowing back nearly flat against his head as he faced the wind, and brought the white flaky fish to his lips. He put the fork in his mouth, removed it, chewed, and swallowed, all while maintaining that blank look on his face.

“That’s it!” Noct said in a—frankly—fucking awful imitation of Iggy’s accent, raising his finger in the air. “I’ve come up with a new recipeh!”

“Indeed,” Iggy agreed in a small voice, still staring out at the sea.

If it weren’t for the fact that Gladio’d been having the shittiest morning, he’d have thought he was having some weirdass surreal dream.

Prompto couldn’t take it anymore. He bent over so low in his camp chair that his face nearly touched his plate and snorted so hard it was a wonder brains didn’t start flying out of his nose.

Gladio looked over to Laura to see how she would react to this blatant teasing of her boyfriend, but just as she’d done for every other prank Prompto and Noct had pulled on him today, she only seemed to look on in sympathetic amusement.

“Hey, Specs, you think I’m the best blitzball player in Lucis?” Noct asked.

After taking another bite of his sugared fish, he swallowed and said, “Of course, Noct.”

“And you secretly wear lacy underwear with pink bows, right?” Prompto asked between snorts.

“Yes,” Iggy replied.

Noct sat up straight, his eyes wide. “Oh! You’re never cooking vegetables again for as long as you live! Right?”

“Indeed.”

“YES!” Noct cheered, raising his hand in the air to give Prompto a high-five.

“You gonna let them keep pulling this crap on him?” Gladio leaned over and asked Laura.

“If it were hurting him in any way, I’d put a stop to it,” she said quietly. “But since he really isn’t noticing, I don’t see the harm.”

“I’m sorry, but how is that even possible? He wasn’t like this last night. What’s wrong with him today?”

Noct and Prompto had been doing shit like this to Iggy ever since they’d arrived at Leirity Seaside that afternoon. They’d set up the chairs and kitchen at Spelcray Haven, just to hang out and relax on the beach a bit before getting to Cape Caem, when Iggy seemed to grow distracted and spacey, moving on muscle memory as he set up the kitchen with Laura. Then because Noct was apparently four years old and didn’t like being ignored, he’d started throwing little shells at Iggy’s shoulder in an attempt to get him to turn around. Once Prompto and Noct figured out Iggy was really out of it, they switched out his coffee for tea and watched as he’d drunk the whole thing down without saying a word. It was only after Noct and Prompto had had an entire conversation with him about what they’d do when they got to Cape Caem, switching seats one line of the dialogue at a time, that they’d come up with the plan for this most recent setup.

“He’s all right,” Laura replied. “He’s got a lot on his mind, and now that we’re safe, he’s letting it take over.”

“Sure hope that’s it,” Gladio grumbled, standing and walking over to the dishes bucket to wash his plate. Any other day, he’d find this shit hilarious and join in, but he just wasn’t in the mood.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” he said, tossing a wave to everyone over his shoulder, not caring if they heard him or not.

He didn’t want to be in sight of the haven, so he ignored the fishing dock and followed the line of the high, rocky cliff faces down the shoreline. But he didn’t wander far; he wasn’t stupid. As soon as he had gone far enough out to have some kinda privacy, he turned from the cliff out to the blacker, rougher rocks that led out to the water.

He chose the flattest, driest spot he could find, folding his legs underneath him with a sigh. Looking out over the bay, he took a moment to breathe in the wet, briny air. It kinda stunk a little, but it sure was a helluva lot better than some of the fumes he used to smell back in Insomnia sometimes. It was beautiful out here—peaceful with the fresh air, crashing waves, and restless wind. It reminded him of Galdin, back before this whole fucking mess got started. Things had just been so much simpler back then. He’d been so much younger.

Out of habit more than anything, Gladio took his book out and opened it to where he’d bookmarked it. Fuck, he’d been thinking so grand only a couple of weeks ago. The Amicitia family had some land holdings in northern Cleigne, just west of the Vesperpool, and he’d been thinking it would’ve been perfect to have some of the farmers who sold in Lestallum grow some tea and food up there, maybe give some of the refugees from Insomnia some means of providing for themselves. But it was stupid—just a stupid dream from a dumb fuck who couldn’t even do the job he had right, let alone another one. He tossed the book on the rocks behind him. Maybe some other poor bastard would find it and know what to do with it.

Gladio heard the sound of Noct and Prompto laughing, and he looked up to see that the four of them had moved out to the fishing pier, in full view of his formerly private spot. He could see that Noct had changed into his own clothes, at least. Laura was facing in his direction, her hair blowing out of its clip and whipping at her face in the blustering wind, probably staring at him with pity or some shit. He couldn’t take that, not today. He stood and walked farther along the rocky shore, keeping his eyes on the ground so he didn’t fall into one of the tidepools or get his feet caught between the rocks. When he sat down again, he faced away from the dock toward Cape Caem, admiring the massive, craggy cliff face and towering lighthouse that kinda looked like a sword sticking up out of the ground.

They were only here cause of Jared; he was the one who’d done all that research, collected all that information from the King and his Dad and gods knew where else in that diary for them to use on this trip. Gladio had lost Jared for the very reason he knew he was gonna lose someone—because he’d been out protecting Noct. He’d be able to handle it and move on, just like he had with his dad, if he’d even been doing that right. Much as he was proud of the kid for stepping up and being a man in the face of danger, it’d been so fucking wrong to watch Noct step between him and Ravus and summon his Royal Armiger in defense. Noct was supposed to defend himself, defend the people, defend the weak. It went against everything Gladio had been and become and done his entire life, and he was starting to wonder just what the hell he thought he was doing as the Chosen King’s Shield. If he couldn’t protect Noct from some piece of shit like Ravus, how was he gonna be able to do anything when they fought destiny?

And on top of everything, he couldn’t even get revenge for his own House without fucking things up royally. They’d had the guy last night— _Caligo_ —when they’d learned of the Empire’s presence at Fort Vaullerey and busted in to take everyone out. Caligo had openly and proudly admitted that he’d killed the man who’d helped Gladio’s dad and Gladio raise little Iris. He should’ve killed him right then and there, but no. He’d allowed the gil to be passed on to someone else, and those hunters had let him get away.

Maybe Iggy felt responsible for being the one to hand him off to the hunters, and that was why he was being so weird today.

Much as he wanted to hate the draw with Aranea, he found he couldn’t. She was just a mercenary doing her job, not really out for Noct’s blood like Ravus. And even though she was hot and talented as fuck, Gladio knew all that ‘quittin’ time’ bullshit was just her way of pulling out before she got her ass handed to her when she was outnumbered—so she was smart, too. Her promise to play again was . . . promising. He was always up for a little foreplay, even if aerial combat wasn’t his usual style.

But it all came down to the fact that his performance lately, his failures, whatever the hell this feeling was stabbing at his gut, was unacceptable. He needed something more—more worth, more . . . power. And there was only one place he was gonna get it. Laura had told him that power always came at a cost, and at this point, it didn’t matter what that cost was because he couldn’t move forward unless he could actually do his job.

It would mean leaving Noct behind for a while though. Could he do that? His dad sure as hell wouldn’t have approved if he’d gone to him about it. ‘A Shield’s life is not his own; it can only be risked for the King and no one else.’ He’d heard the lecture a thousand times before, but this was different. As it stood now, Gladio wasn’t a Shield at all. The Prince had proven he wasn’t completely helpless, and there was always the others to back him up. Laura might have always left the real protection to Gladio when they were all together, but she’d step up and cover for him if needed, and there was Iggy and Prompto to help for the hunts. Still, hopefully he wouldn’t have to be gone long; he didn’t like having the control out of his hands.

Having made his decision, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Gladio,” Cor said.

“Yeah, I got some business I gotta handle. Gonna need some of that guidance you’re so well-known for.”

“You gonna tell me what this is about?”

Gladio hesitated for a second, hoping Cor wouldn’t try to talk him out of it. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I wanna take the trial.”

Cor’s response was nothing but silence.

“Meet me at the Taelpar Rest Area tomorrow?”

It was silent for another couple of seconds, and Gladio was about to check to see if his phone was still connected to the call when he heard Cor’s gruff, “All right. Tomorrow. Noon.”

“You got it.”

He spent another twenty minutes or so lost in thought, staring down at the water as it rose and fell at his feet, kicking up sprays of saltwater that left patterns of droplets on his boots before dripping down to the rocks. A rhythmic clacking of boots on stone in the distance increased in volume as the feet drew nearer, letting him know that Iggy was coming without him having to turn around. They all knew how to move across the terrain without making a sound—no one more than Iggy—but they’d all learned not to sneak up on one another out in the wild like this, or they’d likely end up having to dodge a sword aimed at their chests.

Iggy lowered himself to the nearest flat rock next to him, straightening one knee and the bending the other up as he leaned a casual elbow on it. Looking out at the waves, he said in a low voice, “Good afternoon.”

“What’s up, Ig?” Gladio asked, maybe with just the slightest hint of hostility. He knew all about those mind games Iggy played to get Noct to talk, usually because he was just too polite to come out and ask what he wanted to know. But Gladio wasn’t in the mood for it today, and he wasn’t gonna confess his sins just because he sat down and bid him good afternoon.

“I was merely saying ‘hello,’” Iggy said, pursing his lips and tilting his head, still staring out to the horizon thoughtfully. “Checking in, you could say.”

“Heh, if anyone should be checking in, it should be with you. You all right today, man?”

Iggy furrowed his brow and gave him a steely-eyed look. “Is my behavior this afternoon truly worthy of this much note? It seems as though everyone has made remarks since our arrival.”

“Ig, you couldn’t be more distracted if there was a cactuar givin’ you a lap dance right about now.”

Iggy sniffed delicately, raising his chin a little. “Well, that’s certainly an image I could’ve gone a lifetime without seeing. Thank you.”

“No prob,” he said with a grin, but then he turned serious. Much as he hated to do this, if he was gonna leave, he needed to make sure shit was all straightened out before he did so. “Listen. When you and Laura got together, I swore I wasn’t gonna interfere.”

“And I appreciate your support more than I can say,” Iggy said, turning his eyes out to the sea again. “You’ve been nothing but kind to the both of us.”

It’d been easy for Gladio to support whatever it was they had going on; all he’d had to do was talk a little louder that one time they’d asked him to cover for them. Other than that, the routine and dynamic between the five of them had stayed exactly the same. He respected the hell out of the fact that they never got weird the few times they shared a bed, and no one had never even caught them getting cuddly with each other—not even a quick touch or kiss—when they suddenly entered a room with the two of them alone. But the way they always walked near each other on their long treks and the way their eyes would meet and twinkle with warmth like they were sharing some secret was enough to let Gladio know that something was still going on and that it was a good thing for both of them.

The only real hint was when they’d go out ‘foraging’ or ‘sparring’ and come back like they were both at ease with everything in the world, and of course everyone knew they were doing neither of those things. It was fucking adorable, the way they’d pretend Iggy was all sweaty from a workout as they took turns showering. Gladio and Noct, and even Gladio and Laura, sparred many mornings, and the exercise never seemed to give him soft eyes and little smiles like that. Whether they were madly in love or just working out an on-the-road crush, it was a beautiful fucking thing for him to see in this world of gloom and doom.

He’d been as happy as a Cleigne mollusk for them—until this stop at Leirity Seaside, because whether or not Gladio was about to take off, this was the last thing they needed—the distraction. From the first day he’d found them asleep together by the campfire, he swore this was the only thing that would make him get in the way. He’d thought with ‘Ice Cold Scientia,’ that day would never come, but he guessed this crazy ass trip had changed them all.

“Yeah, about that. You sure it’s not affecting your job? This,” he said, waving a vague hand in Ignis’s direction, “whatever this is today, isn’t you.”

“Has my performance suffered as of late?” he asked sincerely.

Gladio sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. “No. You did good last night—been doing really good lately, actually, which is why I’m leaving it up to your judgment. If you’re getting distracted, you need to end it. If it’s not her, then I’ll keep my trap shut.”

Iggy nodded once, sharply. “You have my thanks for your willingness to ‘speak straight’ with me, as they say. But allow me to reassure you that the timing of this distraction is very much deliberate. Should I be called upon, I am at the group’s disposal to do my duty to the very best of my ability.”

Gladio looked over at him, checking his expression—serious eyes, firm-set mouth, posture straight and ready for anything, just like he usually was. Gladio believed him.

“All right, that’s all I’m gonna say about it then.”

They sat together in silence for a couple minutes, listening to the waves and watching the water rise and fall just below their boots.

“I’ve noted that I’m not the only one who seems distracted today,” Iggy said gently.

When Gladio’s continued silence made it clear he wasn’t gonna answer, Iggy looked down and reached into his jacket, pulling out the book Gladio had left behind and handing it over to him.

“You won’t want to be leaving that behind. I’ve skimmed over it, and it seems to be a rather useful resource for some very auspicious dreams.” Gladio looked over at him to see that his head was tilted forward, his gaze boring into his with intensity and significance.

Gladio took the book but shrugged. “Dreams. People like me don’t got time for dreams, Ig—don’t got the brains for ‘em. Got more than enough on my plate as it is.”   

“Mmm,” Iggy hummed, seemingly in agreement, but then he continued in an almost casual tone. “You know, people who view our little entourage from the outside tend to see us as stereotypes. You and me, for instance—I’m the brains and you’re the brawn, but that isn’t so, is it?”

“Looks like it from where I’m sittin’,” he grunted.

Iggy raised his chin and said haughtily, “I’m going to assume that your remark was self-deprecation for your intellect and not an intended insult to my combat skills, but you’re mistaken either way.”

He leaned over and tapped the book twice sharply on the title _The Business of Agriculture_. “Anyone who dreams with such ambition, who toils beyond his job description to benefit not only the King, but also his subjects, is a servant to the Crown worth more than his weight in gold. He requires a formidable intellect to even contemplate dreams that grandly to begin with.

“Food and jobs will never go out of fashion. I took the liberty of examining your outlines folded inside, and I believe your plan is sound. You’ve integrated your passion and your duty to the people seamlessly, an approach I am beginning to learn is quite beneficial to one’s sanity.”

“Yeah?” he asked hopefully. If Iggy thought it was a good idea . . . but he’d still have to get this Shield thing settled before he could commit to it.

Iggy nodded. “You and I? We’re more alike that you realize, Gladiolus.”

Gladio wouldn’t’ve said so ten minutes ago, but now? ‘Ice Cold Scientia’ was like one of those weirdass pineapples of Laura’s—tough and prickly as hell on the outside, sweet and maybe a little tart on the inside, and would easily stab a man if rubbed the wrong way. He’d summon every weapon at his disposal and lay his life down to protect Noct, too—had already unflinchingly proven it. Yeah, if he thought about it, Gladio could see himself in Iggy.

Seeing Iggy in himself though . . . Gladio knew he’d never be able to touch Iggy’s intellect, but yeah, he guessed he was no slouch. He’d worked hard and done well in school—knew almost as much about military tactics as Iggy did, as it was standard knowledge required of anyone inheriting the position of Head of Crownsguard. He’d aced his field medic training, and while he’d never have the patience for all the bowing and legal talk that happened in diplomatic relations, he could scrape by if needed.

He’d be in decent shape if he could just figure out this whole Shield thing . . . just the core of his very identity. Still, he appreciated Iggy’s somewhat uplifting perspective.  

“Wow, breakin’ out the full name, Ignis,” he said with a grin. “Now I know it’s serious.”

Gladio stood and held out a hand, pulling Iggy to his feet.

“Indeed it is. Our future and the future of the world are very serious matters, and I would not see opportunities for our people wasted simply because the man responsible was too blockheaded to realize his own intelligence.”

“Only you could insult someone while giving ‘em a compliment,” he said, slapping him on the shoulder and heading toward the dock.

“I do try to multi-task when I can. It saves time,” Iggy replied with a smirk, but then frowned a little, a crease forming in his brow. “Apologies, my sense of humor does tend to rear its ugly head at the strangest of times.”

“Yeah, been noticing that lately,” Gladio said with a chuckle. “But don’t stop. It’s good to see.”

“Really,” he said introspectively, but then he seemed to shake his head clear and switch subjects. “Speaking of multi-tasking, I should like to stop by a patch of Cleigne darkshells I noticed in a tidepool by the dock.”

“Yeah, no prob. I can help dig up the little fuckers with ya.”

They waved to Noct and Prompto at the fishing dock, and Gladio looked up at the haven to see that Laura had called Saracchian to keep her company while she was clearing the campsite. As he and Iggy knelt down next to the pool, Iggy started to take off his gloves, but Gladio held out a hand to stop him.

“I got this. By the time you take your jacket off and roll up your sleeves, I’ll have gotten ‘em all anyway.”

Iggy’s lips jerked down in a quick frown. “It wasn’t my intention to deceive you into doing the work for me.”

“Naw, it’s the first time we’ve gotten these, right? Tell ya what, let’s multi-task. I’ll collect, you write down whatever recipe I know’s forming in your head right now.”

Iggy gave him a withering look before relenting. “Very well,” he said with a sigh, pulling out his fancy-ass pen and notebook. “You have my thanks.”

Gladio plunged his hands into the water, and fuck, it was colder that Shiva’s frosty nipples. Feeling for the points of the darkshells sticking up out of the sand, he dug his fingers in and pried them out, setting them in a pile next to Iggy’s boots as he scratched away in his notebook. Gladio had just finished with a particularly dense cluster when he saw Iggy jump to his feet out of the corner of his eye.

“To your left, Noct!”

Gladio looked up in time to see Noct, who was heading from the pier to the haven, spin to the left without question or hesitation, summoning his sword as he spun to his side. A seadevil had come up from the waves behind them, its teeth snapping furiously at the spot Noct had just vacated. Iggy took a step forward, his arm hurling forward and following through with the motion as though he’d tossed a dagger, but Gladio could barely make out the object that left his hand as it flew across the distance and lodged itself into the creature’s eye.

Gladio knew that Noct and Prompto could handle a single seadevil, so he kept an eye on the two of them as he searched the area for more and checked to make sure Laura was still safe. She had heard Iggy’s shout and was standing ready at the edge of the haven, prepared to jump in should she be needed. Even though seadevils seemed to always travel in flocks or packs or whatever the hell, like the group they’d taken care of on the way down to the haven, this one seemed to be alone.

As the seadevil threw back its head, hissing and spitting water like a firehose, Noct swiped his blade across its throat, and Prompto summoned his circular saw to jam the whirring blades into the thing’s ribs. Noct warp-struck, appearing midair over the creature’s neck, pointing his sword down, and burying the blade through its spinal cord into the rock below as he landed.

“Feisty little devil,” Iggy remarked.

“Dude, when’d you take up darts?” Prompto asked as he leaned over the seadevil’s head, examining its eye.

Iggy grimaced a little, walking over to the corpse and leaning down to yank the little tube from the seadevil’s gelatinous eyeball.

“Not darts, per se.”

“Um, did you use your _pen_ on that thing?” Noct asked, his eyes wide.

“Well,” Iggy sniffed, averting his gaze and shrugging. “The pen _is_ mightier than the sword, after all, or so they claim.” As he brought the bloody nib closer to his face to inspect it, he said, “But the proverbial ‘they’ didn’t take into account the additional cleaning time, I suppose.”

“Uh . . . yeah, anyway. Thanks for the heads up, Specs. We were just heading back. Fish weren’t biting today.”

Iggy looked up at Laura on the haven’s edge, who nodded. “I believe the site’s been cleared away. Would you care to continue on to Caem?”

“Yeah,” Noct said, gesturing for Laura to follow and turning to the path that led to the road. “Let’s go.”

***

“Dickhead.”

“Oh, come on, that one’s not creative at all,” Laura complained.

“Fine then, shit magnet.”

“You know, Noct, you kinda suck at the creative shit,” Gladio said.

“Well, let’s hear you do better, then.”

“You know the kinda people I hang out with, don’t you, you knuckle-brained fart lozenge? Those fucknuggets could really make up some swears.”

“I dunno,” Prompto said with a laugh. “I’ve always liked the sound of douche canoe, personally. Tater tits is kinda fun too. Oooh, douche pickle is kinda cute.”

“Those are at least creative,” Laura said.

“Who swears cute though?” Gladio asked incredulously.

“Well then, what about shitpouch? Or asshat?” Noct asked.

“Getting better,” Prompto said, “but not as good as something like fuck bucket—or even fuck knuckle.”

Gladio had no idea how this conversation had started, but he knew exactly why. As they’d gotten back in the car, Iggy had grown quiet and fidgety, ignoring their conversation and tapping a finger restlessly against the steering wheel as he drove. He’d kept his eyes focused on the road and didn’t deviate an inch from between the lines, but his mind seemed to be a million miles away. Gladio himself still wasn’t in the mood for this, but with a plan in place, he found he could at least participate.

“What about you, Laura? Think we’ve figured out what frack means by now. What else ya got?” Prompto asked.

“Yeah, you must have a thousand alien ones,” Noct said.

“Well . . . there’s your standard stuff from Earth—some of which you might have heard of: knob cheese, cunty bollocks, buttmunch—that sort of thing. Zarking Fardwarks is fun to say, and in that same universe, Belgium was actually the worst word one being could utter to another. Of course, I had this friend whose species often engaged in curse battles. ‘Hab SoSlI' Quch’ was always my favorite, even if it isn’t really an insult among humans.

“And oh gods, French. French is a fantastic language to curse in. Nom de Dieu de putain de bordel de merde de saloperies de connards d'enculé de ta mère. It's like wiping your arse with silk, I _love_ it!”

“Cumguzzling thundercunt, those are some helluva thingamafuckers!” Gladio said, chuckling.

“I realize no one is inclined to solicit my opinion in such matters,” Iggy began, and everyone went silent. Had he only been pretending to ignore them all this time? “But I prefer spherical dimwit, personally, at least within the confines of my own thoughts.”

About a quarter of a mile passed underneath them before Gladio finally got over his surprise enough to say, “What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means,” Iggy said, tilting his head, “that the person in question is a dimwit any way you look at them.”

“Uh . . . think Iggy wins this round,” Prompto said.

“My life’s ambition completed,” Iggy said smoothly.

“Hey Prompto, you know Cindy’s gonna be there, right? You gonna ask her out?” Noct asked.

Before Prompto could answer, Laura said, “He’d better not.”

“Heh, why d’ya say that?” Prompto asked.

“Because a girl like Cindy probably gets asked out three times a day. You need to lay your groundwork first. That could take months—maybe even years with as busy as she is and how often you’re away.”

“You got any advice for the kid?” Gladio asked, knowing Prompto wasn’t going to ask himself.

“Yeah, offer to help with whatever she’s working on. Ask to learn, but don’t get in the way. Ignis told me he said to ask about her projects, and that’s good advice too. Just put all thoughts of trying to score with her out of your mind and try to get to know her for now.”

“Sounds good to me,” Gladio agreed.

“Unfortunately, you don’t have much time to come up with a plan, because she appears to be waiting for us,” Iggy said as he pulled into the parking spot, indicating with his head where Cindy and Iris were waiting for them just up the hill.

They got out of the car and hiked up to meet them, where Iris threw her arms as high as she could around his chest.

“Hey,” Gladio said to the top of her head as he hugged her. “Trip go okay?”

Iris shrugged. “It was a tight squeeze, but we managed. We got worried when you didn’t show up yesterday.”

“Yeah, we had some stuff we had to take care of,” he said, letting her go and following the others up the path.

At least Iris and Talcott were safe now. Cape Caem wasn’t really a secret harbor to Lucians; that lighthouse wasn’t exactly subtle, but the daemons around the cape had driven most of the population away. The Empire wouldn’t be stopping by, and what was left of his little family would be protected by the old magic. It was just one less thing he had to worry about while he took care of what he needed to.

As Cindy had led them up the walk, he heard her mention something about needing mythril to fix the boat.

“Think we’re gonna hang out a couple days first, and then we can take care of it,” Noct said as he turned toward the house, probably to scope out the bed situation as soon as humanly possible.

All things considered, Gladio would rather them not leave the cape at all while he was gone, but he couldn’t ask them to delay the mission just for him. Iggy’d been all over the map today: distracted, kind, sarcastic, antsy, kinda hilarious, but he’d proven he was still there when it counted. They’d be all right without him if he didn’t make it back by the time they left. Now all he had to do was tell them.

“Well, ya’ll do what ya like. I’m gunna finish up some work here, then I’ll be leavin’ ta git back ta the garage first thing in the mornin’,” Cindy said.

It sounded as though he could maybe hitch a ride with her to Taelpar in the morning, which would give him some time to think before meeting Cor. He’d have to pull her aside later and ask.

“You need any help?” Prompto asked, raising a hand in the air like a student in school.

Cindy twisted her lip to the side, squinting as she looked him up and down. “Yeah,” she said. “We could use an extra pair a hands. Come on then!” She smiled and jerked her head toward the lighthouse before turning up the walk. Prompto followed behind her like an overexcited puppy while Noct snorted, shaking his head.

When they reached the porch, Gladio decided that now would be the best time to get it over with before they went inside with Iris, Dustin, and Monica.

“Hey . . .,” he said to Iris, gesturing toward the house “can you give us a second?”

“Uh, okay? I’ll be inside then,” she said.

He didn’t want them to worry about whether he would be coming back at all; he himself was trying not to think about that possibility, so he decided vague would be the best way to handle it.

“So yeah,” he said as Noct, Laura, and Iggy looked up at him. “Gonna have to ask you guys to handle this boat business without me. Got some business of my own to deal with.”

“You gonna be gone long?” Noct asked, his brow furrowing, and damn, he did look a little worried.

Gladio gave him a reassuring grin. “Not long enough for you to miss me.”

“Do your thing then. Not like we could stop you anyway.”

As Noct grinned back and turned toward the house, Iggy and Laura stayed behind.

“A solo venture?” Iggy asked politely.

“Just a little hike to clear my head,” he said with a shrug.

Laura seemed to search his face for a moment. He knew he couldn’t really hide everything from her, but he also knew she’d let him go no matter what.

“Just be careful, Princess,” she said solemnly. “Remember that you mean more to us than as a sword.”

“Hey,” he said, spreading his arms wide. “It’s me. I’ll be back before you’ve gotten the chance to even miss me.”

“Yeah,” Laura said, still staring gravely at him. “You guys go ahead and go inside. I’ve got some things I have to check out.”

Laura returned with Prompto just before dinner, and they all gathered around the long dining room table to enjoy some of Monica’s home cooking before Gladio pulled Cindy aside and asked for a ride to Taelpar. He spent the rest of the evening upstairs with the others, playing King’s Knight and listening to them plan their trip to the Vesperpool to pick up the mythril. Satisfied with their arrangements, Gladio relaxed into the couch, feeling better about how things would go while he was gone.

When the evening started winding down and Gladio was thinking about heading to bed, Iggy and Laura stood up. “We’re gonna hang around the cape a bit, maybe check out the stars or something,” Laura said, pointing to the window with its view of the night sky. “Don’t wait up.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gladio chuckled, shaking his head.

They wouldn’t be back tonight.

As the door shut behind them, Prompto giggled. “They’re gonna go do it.”

“Ugh, gross, Prom,” Noct said, scowling. “We all know; we don’t need to _talk_ about it.”

“You’re gonna have change that attitude real quick if you’re thinking about getting with Cindy,” Gladio said to Prompto. “And you too, Noct. Marriage ain’t completely off the table for you, ya know.”

Collapsing onto his own bed for once and spreading his arms and legs as wide as he wanted, Gladio pushed his head deeper into the pillow and sighed.

One more day, and he could start figuring shit out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "pen is mightier than the sword" moment is dedicated to the lovely Ginia, who inspired the scene when she referred to our boy as Ignis 'I know 27 ways to kill a man with a fountain pen' Scientia.
> 
> Matrix reference included!


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW chapter again
> 
> Also, this chapter and the next are going to be about as Doctor Who as it gets, but don't worry. If you aren't into Doctor Who, this will just be a couple of chapters of filling in Laura's backstory before getting back into the FFXV plot.
> 
> Borrowed a bit of language from Doctor Who from the burning at the center of time part, but most of that is still mine.

Ignis shut the front door of the house behind him, and as Laura pulled on his hand to lead him off the porch, he tugged her back, pulling her into a searing, desperate kiss.

_Be honest. How laughable was I today?_

Running his tongue along her lower lip before sucking it in his mouth, he reached around her head to remove her hair clip, allowing the twist to fall heavy down her back and unfurl as he fumbled to put the clip in his jacket pocket.

He understood completely why the others had been concerned with his behavior this afternoon, even if that concern had taken on different forms of expression. Though he’d been loath to make the stop on the way to Caem, he’d found he was grateful for the respite, and the moment they were all safe on the haven, he had allowed his mind to wander—hashing and rehashing his logic for bonding with Laura that evening. After all, this was a decision that would impact the rest of his life, and he wanted to ensure that his reasoning wasn’t based on emotional whimsy. Deciding once again that his rationales were sound before going over the details of the bonding process with Laura, he’d learned that his distraction hadn’t gone unnoticed.

_I think you rallied pretty well there once you left to talk to Gladio._

Hands trembling with anticipation, he unsnapped his gloves one by one, tugging at the fingers frantically to remove them and shoving them in his other pocket. He needed his bare hands in her hair. Now.

 _Hardly,_ he scoffed. _It seemed as though my every thought had a direct line to my mouth after that._

As he spread all ten fingers across her scalp, reveling in the tickling sensation of her hair brushing against his hands, he could feel her tugging his hips by his belt loops as she chuckled against his lips.

_And it was a beautiful sight to watch. I’m stealing ‘spherical dimwit’ for my own personal collection now._

When she pulled away from his mouth to lip up his chin to under his ear, he looked up at the treetops and took a deep, calming breath of cool, salty night air. As frenetic as he was feeling this evening, this was no quick tryst in a camper, against a tree, or behind a boulder—shameful as it was that as beautiful as what they had together had been reduced to such liaisons. She’d promised him he could do whatever he liked the first night they had the time, and tonight, they had all night.

He’d known the moment she disappeared that she’d planned one of her adventures for them, and he was looking forward to it. However, he had plans for her as well, and though they weren’t as elaborate or lavish as they would have been had they been in Insomnia with access to his own Lucian currency, he felt the austerity of his designs for her were in fact more symbolic and apropos. They would be permanently fusing their minds together tonight, and such an occasion didn’t call for trifles or trinkets. Besides, there was nothing on this entire planet she couldn’t or hadn’t already gotten for herself in her long life—except for himself. He would give her nothing more than his gratitude, his undying love, his body, and his trust that she would care for the portion of himself he was giving her—just as she was doing for him.

She pulled back from him and stared up into his eyes with wonder, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“Yes. Those hold more value to me than anything in all the universes.” She spread her fingers wide over his cheeks, running her thumbs back and forth along his jawline, and he closed his eyes in contentment. “I’d ask you if you’re certain, but I already know the answer. Before we go, I just want to remind you that you can delay or stop this still, if you want, and I’ll still be here—loving you.”

He gazed down at her sapphire eyes for a moment, still incredulous that this was happening to him. He’d been holding out for someone extraordinary, and when he’d finally found her, she’d been too extraordinary for him to pursue—until he’d decided to try regardless, until she’d convinced him that she found him just as extraordinary. But it was still difficult to believe, sometimes.

“I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Her eyes glittered with exhilaration as she whispered in barely contained gaiety, “Then the waiting is over, love. Run!”

He had a flash of déjà vu as she pirouetted and bounded off up the hill toward the lighthouse—a white skirt billowing in the breeze and catching the light of the moon instead of red, and he didn’t bother to suppress his smile at her love of theatrics. Determined to keep up with her this time, he leapt off the porch and sprinted after her. When he’d pulled level with her, she reached out, grabbing for his hand and coiling her mind around his. Her joy and light only fed his own as they connected, and he found himself laughing aloud—full, unrestrained, and unashamed.

As the elevator doors of the lighthouse closed behind them, he lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his hips, exploring her mouth as they swayed together with the movement of their ascension. She stopped him when they got off to seal the elevator controls before indicating he follow the deck around to the left.

“You’ll want to put me down for this part,” she said before pressing her lips just in front of his ear, and he reluctantly complied as she led him by the hand to the rail.

“ _Oh,_ my word,” he gasped. “It’s breathtaking.”

All his thoughts seemed to cease as he took in the view. The three-quarter moon was bright enough to reflect off the ocean that seemed to stretch on forever, almost to the point where he could see the subtle curve of the planet. The twisted form of the Rock of Ravatogh rose high above the black shoreline, releasing its endless plume of smoke and soot into the air. As they walked around the edge of the lighthouse, he could even make out the dark, curling shadow of Angelgard in the distance. And that humbling sky—with that deep, velvety sapphire that reminded him of her eyes—littered with stars that sparkled like a canvas of diamond dust as bright white clouds floated lazily by, offering teasing glances here and there.

What seemed to be all of Eos was laid at their feet, and it was just another reminder of why he’d chosen her, as he would likely have been too preoccupied with other matters to even think to come up here himself.

“Is this all right?” she asked nervously, gesturing to the nook of cushions and blankets on the walkway up against the side of the lighthouse, which he hadn’t noticed until then. “I know it’s not the best angle for the view, but it’s protected from the wind, and no one on land should be able to see us.”

He silenced her with his lips. _It’s perfect._

They undressed each other slowly, reverently, taking the time to press lips and tongues against warm skin with each new body part revealed. Having been thoroughly reassured these past weeks that she found everything about his body exquisite, he found he was no longer in the least bit timid when he was bared to her, but he still appreciated that hunger in her expression when she looked at him—the way her fingers would pause over his chest, his hipbones, his fingers, or even a particular pattern of freckles on his shoulder as her mind filled with admiration. When he’d first dared to imagine they could be together, he’d never expected to be on the receiving end of her worship, and by the _gods_ he couldn’t get enough of how much her every touch seemed to set him ablaze.

Though he’d done his best to return his appreciation in their furtive meetings, it had been this night he’d been waiting for. Ignis had discovered recently that this form of self-expression, even rushed as it so often was, was the epitome of his identity. She had stripped him of everything he thought he was: logic, courtesy, decorum, subservience—even the less-often revealed traits he was aware of, such as sarcasm, that appalling streak of insolence, and even that whispering of ruthlessness—to reveal that this blessed release of love, affection, caring, and tenderness was what he was made for. He wanted desperately to use his body as a tool to express this feeling that was making his heart race and his lungs ache for air—to make her feel it physically as well as in her mind.

“If you could turn over for me, please,” he murmured once they’d settled into the pallet of cushions. “I want to explore you.”

She shot him a mischievous smile but complied. “Suppose it’s a good thing I love it when you boss me around.”

“It does appear to be a rather persistent habit,” he replied, deciding to start with her feet and work his way up.

He’d had so little opportunity to explore the back of her, and as he kneeled over her legs, running his palms over her glowing skin, he couldn’t help but see her every contour as man’s creative expression of the perfect being. He took his time, slowly cataloging every spot that made her breath catch or her sex clench with want. With each discovery, he would follow up with his lips and tongue, just to hear that caught breath transform into a gasp and that clench become a surge of warmth. They were both quiet for what seemed like hours as he worked, her breath and mind the center of his world over everything else, even the crashing waves or the wind caressing their skin.

 _For the love of the Astrals, Rose,_ he whispered, sweeping her hair aside, sucking on the back of her neck, and running a hand over the curve of her buttocks. He pressed himself against her stroking fingers in an attempt to find some relief for that aching heaviness between his legs that rushed over him every time he breathed in a lungful of her scent. _You are the living embodiment of poetry, the reason why man was inspired to put paint to canvas, pen to paper, hands to instruments._

“Ignis, please,” she pleaded. “I need to touch you, too.”

Gently guiding her shoulder so she shifted to her back, he grinned cheekily at her needy expression. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be satisfied with what you can reach tonight. You promised me.”

“Catch me doing that again,” she said with a tongue-touched smile, and he leaned in to suck it from the tip of her teeth—as he’d been wanting to do since he first time he’d seen it but wouldn’t admit to himself.

He repeated the process of ghosting his fingertips and mouth over her sensitive skin and quivering muscles, waiting until the very end of his exploration to slide his hands over the soft swell of her breasts and graze his teeth and tongue over her nipples. At this first touch to a more provocative area, she arched into his mouth and gripped the skin at the back of his neck with a soft but desperate hand.

“Oh, bloody hell, Ignis,” she gasped.

He was surprised at the wave of arousal that crashed through her and washed over him when he finally teased her with the first touch of the very tips of his fingers against her sex, almost forcing him to grind hard against her hip with a groan of need; the time he’d spent on her had apparently worked her to a near frenzy, and it was beginning to affect him as well.  

It was a victorious, powerful feeling—reducing her to nearly incoherent moans of his name and insistent but gentle scrapes of her nails against his scalp as he lapped at her dripping heat, stroking her from the inside until she came around his fingers—like bringing a goddess to her knees. But the tides reversed on him when he settled into her side and she fell on him, frantically kissing his mouth, his face, his throat, and his chest as the pads of her fingers teased up the V of his hips and between the subtle contours of his abdominal muscles in a way that was just on the verge of tickling him, setting his teeth pleasantly on edge.

_I cannot thank you enough for loving me, Ignis—for wanting me, for letting me keep you._

“Oh gods, Rose,” he panted, arching into the hand that had just grasped him tightly, starving for more of her touch. “I assure you the pleasure is entirely mine.”

“Mmm it’s about to be,” she said in a warm, thick voice as she tugged at his wrist to roll him over her.

Parting her sex with his head, he sank into her slowly, savoring in her delicious pool of heat that made him shiver against the temperature contrast of the cool breeze tickling at the hair on his thighs, arms, and chest. Oh Astrals, this should be a sin, to enjoy the warmth of another body so much, to love someone so completely, to be able to lay oneself completely naked literally and figuratively and bask in it together. He would never know another being as thoroughly as he would know her body, mind, and spirit, and after tonight, he would never again have to know the feeling of her leaving his side.

Lowering his forehead to rest against hers as he moved in her, he gritted his teeth against that tingling, coiling feedback loop they shared. These moments were always bittersweet for him—the pleasure marred by the prospect of having to part again, but even though they still had the rest of the night to bond, he still found he wanted this moment to last as long as it could. She wasn’t helping him hold out though, with her breath coming in shallow gasps against his lips, her skin sliding against his with each thrust, and the sensation of her growing rigid around his length.

“Ignis,” she whimpered, and it was enough to break his heart, to break him. Pressing his lips to her hairline, he pushed in as far as he could, spilling his seed into her body and allowing a full-throated groan of her name to tear from him and be lost in the sound of waves crashing against rock. Her fingers curled around his biceps as she clenched in time with his pulses. As always when they had the opportunity to savor one another, she held him there inside her for a time, stroking his hair and shoulders as he peppered kisses over her face.

It wasn’t until they had dressed in their pajamas and rejoined each other on the cushions that she straddled his hips, taking his head between her hands and his lips between hers.

_Are you ready?_

_I am, but there’s something I need to say first._

Her thumbs stilled over his cheekbones as she pulled back to look at him.

 _Rose Tyler,_ he said, attempting to sear the memory of her wondrous expression in his mind forever, _I love you._

Her expression grew heartbreakingly tender as she smiled down at him.

 _A Ithīr Ingolë, inye tye méla oialë_ , she responded in kind, and he could _feel_ the truth and power behind her declaration in his heart. She would love him forever. And just as he would take care of her for the rest of his life, she would do the same for him.

Once he’d nodded his assent, she lowered her forehead to his, and he closed his eyes. Ever so slowly, he could feel their tenuous connection growing heavier in his mind, growing solid as it manifested into a thread of sparkling gold just above and behind his back teeth. Once he could see it in his mind, he tentatively reached for it, leaving his own head for the first time since he’d died and attempting to create his own thread in her mind, leaving a piece of himself behind with her help. Once his deep burgundy was established, he could feel her building the bridge, finally connecting them completely.

Ignis had spent his entire life in Insomnia. He knew all its streets, secret corners, the best routes home, and his favorite little noodle and book shop on the corner near his apartment. The first time he’d left home and went beyond the Wall was in the Regalia with four friends that had now become his family. Driving over that bridge for the first time, he’d realized the vast expanse of the world around him—its wild beauty, the unknown waiting to be explored. He had lost the protection of the Wall but gained something thrilling in exchange. He’d felt fear and wonder in equal measure as the size of his world expanded to the seemingly infinite.

This was how he felt as he crossed the bridge from his mind to Rose’s for the first time.

But her mind was a maelstrom.

He’d been warned that her every barrier, everything that she was, that she protected him from each time they connected would be released into his mind for a split second this very first time. But what he hadn’t been prepared for was that that moment would seem to last an eternity. She’d been right; feeling the turn of the planet hadn’t been simply pretty words, but what she’d neglected to mention was that she could feel the spin of the entire _universe_ on its axis—stars colliding, birthing, dying only to be reborn again. And the thread of each universe with which she was familiar joined together to create a vast, limitless tapestry of swirling, writhing colors, contrasted only by the dead space of the Void that kept them from touching. That golden power he’d only seen glimpses of seemed to set his entire being on fire. Ancient and forever, she burned at the center of time itself, where past, present, future, and every possibility of all three existed on the same plane. She was every contradiction: fire and ice, pain and pleasure, rage and love, ruthlessness and passion, death and life. He could feel the prickling points of light of the sleeping minds of everyone on the Cape, including those who had just been awakened inside her own mind.

The reality of her being continued to batter at him, threatening to overwhelm him, and when he believed he was about to lose consciousness, everything went suddenly, blissfully still. All that remained was that gentle daybreak and her undying love.

_It’s done. I’ve got you. I love you._

He opened his eyes to find her hovering over him, her hair pooling over his chest and her face and mind full of concern.

“Are you all right?”

Going still for a moment to assess himself, he realized that as the nausea from the disorientation disappeared, he felt . . . incredible. Their connection felt similar to their more tenuous one—except for the thread now lingering in his head, somehow heavier, reassuring, controlled from his side as well as hers.

“Yes, quite all right. More than all right, really. I feel . . . settled, complete.”

_Can you feel me with you?_

_Yes,_ he replied, reaching for that filament of sparkling gold.

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Yes, that’s me. Interesting how your mind works though. I never thought to give it a physical location like that. I imagine it makes finding it much easier.”

 _Did you choose the color of my mind, or is it inherent?_ He wasn’t averse to the burgundy, but he had to admit it wasn’t a color he would have chosen for himself—perhaps a shining silver to entwine with her sparkling gold.

 _It’s inherent, but I think it suits you perfectly. Red—the color of passion, power, adventure—but muted and darkened to reflect your subtlety, gentleness, sophistication, quiet thoughtfulness. You, my dearest,_ she said, leaning down to press her lips to his chin, _are a fine wine._  

_Well, when you put it **that** way . . . I suppose I rather approve then._

He brushed his fingers through her hair as her eyes grew euphoric. “Oh! But now I have something to show you! The first of many of our most wondrous adventures, if you like.”

_Where you show me your memories? Most certainly, please._

He’d gotten the sense from her almost uncontainable excitement that there was more to this memory-sharing process than he’d understood. But he himself was most enthusiastic to know and learn all he could about her and would relish the experience no matter how it was presented to him.

_All right. I’m going to put you to sleep. Meet me at the center of the bridge once you’re under, okay?_

Ignis felt his heart stir in his chest. Did she mean that he could explore her thoughts and memories as he slept? That no more would he be plagued by the constant nagging that he was wasting his time, losing hours of what was likely to be his short and inexperienced life just for the ability to recharge?

She smiled down at him, pressing her hand to his jaw. _I’d like to argue against the short-lived part, but yes, essentially._

_Then let us go now._

The moment he fell unconscious, he touched the gold and crossed the bridge in his mind, coming to where the glittering gold met deep burgundy.

 _Step on the dividing line,_ she said, nearly vibrating with joy. _I have so many things to show you._

Looking down at his feet, which were now clad in his Crownsguard boots, he stepped on the line where gold met burgundy, and the world went white. For a moment, he was startled by the complete lack of any sensory input before he remembered that no matter what happened here, he was perfectly safe here with Rose, who blinked into existence next to him wearing her Kingsglaive uniform.

“What is this place?” he asked.

“The place where our minds meet. We can show each other anything here.”

She put her hand on his shoulder and pointed to a section of white in front of him. “Here. Think of something simple—something that means a lot to you, have seen often, and know well. Picture it clearly in your mind and put it there using as many senses as you can.”

As similar as her concepts of combat and telepathy were, he should have realized the technique she’d been teaching him would be used for more than fighting. Casting his mind back through his past, he tried to think of an object that met all her requirements, picturing every detail he could remember in his mind with every sense he could recall.

When it appeared before him, the image was muddied and blurry, as though it were an impressionist’s painting.

“Why does it look like that?” he asked.

Laura walked around the hip-high Kettieran Maple bonsai, reaching out to run the leaves through her fingers and bending down to breathe in the scent of it.

There were very few luxuries Ignis had had time for as his responsibilities increased in Insomnia. He used to visit his little tree in the Citadel gardens every day as a child during his lunchbreaks, and as he grew older, his time spent admiring its quivering scarlet leaves and silver-white bark grew shorter and shorter until he was merely catching glimpses of it as he found excuses to take that route to his next meeting. There was something so inspiring about his little maple, how it managed to push out its delicate red leaves every spring despite being smothered by the canopy of the taller trees hovering over it. It had always appeared beautiful to Ignis, but delicate and fragile, belying the strength it so obviously had to return each year after winter.

“Your mind truly is a wonder, love,” she said, tilting her head at the tree and smiling softly. “The first time I tried this, I chose that blue shed you saw in my dreams a while back. Do you remember? I figured it would be easy—just a box, right? I did such a horrible job rendering it that James thought it was a water cooler! I’ve seen human telepathic art in some of the most famous museums in the universes. But this . . . genius. I hope you know that, love. You’re a genius.”

But this wasn’t what he’d wanted to create; he’d wanted to make a realistic image, not telepathic art. He waited patiently for her explanation, tips for improvement—something he could do to correct all the imperfections he saw.

“Please be honest with me. I should like to know what I’ve done wrong so that I may improve in the future.”

Her face fell as she looked up at him. “I promise, it _is_ very well done. But certainly you must know that even an eidetic human memory isn’t perfect, especially when recalling objects from before I began teaching you. The brain saves space by glossing over what it considers unimportant, filling in the details later.

“You remembered the shape of the leaves and texture of the bark, but not exactly how many leaves and branches were on the tree. It seems to have no three-dimensional texture or smell; it’s been conjured using sight alone. But you’ve already improved so much, even from when we left Lestallum; you know this.”

Even he had to agree with her statement; the few times he had fought after their walk in Lestallum, he’d noticed it had become easier to allow the wave of information to wash over him, even if his Intuition hadn’t yet been exercised to the extent to allow him to react without thought at all times. This would obviously be a skill to grow just as much as his combat.

He sighed. “I suppose I’ll need to grow accustomed to not immediately mastering these tasks you set, particularly when everything we do is a brand-new concept entirely.”

As much as the idea of staying in this blank realm all night and indirectly improving his combat skills appealed to him, it wasn’t the reason he’d come here. He gave his tree one last appraising glance before his eyes shot to hers, narrowing in challenge.

“I want you to show me the most detailed thing you can conjure. I want to see the best you can do.”

He caught a flash of her apprehension and resolve in her mind before she closed her eyes, and they were transported.

Ignis found himself suddenly standing in the middle of the living room of a cramped apartment—even smaller than his own back home. The living room, dining area, and kitchen combined were roughly the same size as the bedroom the five of them were currently sharing at the Caem house. An electric fireplace buzzed like an irksome fly underneath a sickly green and white mantle covered in picture frames, oddly-shaped vases, stray pieces of mail, loose change, and kitschy knickknacks. Someone had attempted to make the space look homey by painting half the walls yellow—clashing terribly with the faded red of the others—adding shelves and filling them with more bric-a-brac, like little jars and cat figurines, which only served to make the room seem more confining. There was far too much furniture for the tiny place as well: a television, a worn leather loveseat with two matching armchairs covered in garishly pink blankets, a glass coffee table, and a small wooden table and chairs.

Despite the tackiness of her response to his challenge, he realized that given the detail of the room and knowing the effort it took to make his tree, his attempt seemed laughable.

He turned in the little space towards where he felt her mind, the heat from the electric fire and the atmosphere of the apartment beginning to make him feel uncomfortably confined, but he froze in place when his eyes caught the figure standing behind him.

It wasn’t Rose.

“Pardon me,” he began, but stopped when he verified that it _was_ Rose’s mind he felt emanating from the girl leaning in the hall that led to the front door. He even recognized that look of vulnerability in her eyes that she would get when talking about her other forms. _Her other forms._ This must have been her human adolescent form, given her description.

Though it was terribly rude of him, he found himself instinctively shuttering his thoughts from her as he appraised her appearance. He was ashamed to admit to himself that he wouldn’t have spared her a second glance had she passed him on the streets of Insomnia—with her loose-fitting pink sweatshirt and ripped jeans, makeup applied so heavily he could see chunks of mascara clinging to her eyelashes, and slightly stringy bleach-blonde hair. She had appeared as any one of a million sloppy, reckless youths he’d seen countless times roaming the streets in search of a good time.

“Rose?” he queried, stepping toward her hesitantly.

She smiled at his recognition, her wide lips pulling wider, [the light in her chocolate-colored eyes](https://katekittaly.tumblr.com/post/178111657754/she-smiled-at-his-recognition-her-wide-lips) seeming to light up the room. It was the same light that had completely upturned his world, and he finally _saw_ her.

“Ignis,” she murmured, and it didn’t matter that her body was a complete stranger to him. He took another step forward and pulled her into his arms, resting his cheek against the top of her head, which was now at least two inches lower than it normally was. He was surprised to find that she even smelled differently—of sweet, crisp apples and fresh cut grass.

“Where are we?” he asked, pulling back from her.

“Home,” she said, and even her voice sounded different—rougher and sharper. “I grew up here—London, England. You’d like it, I think. You yourself are almost ridiculously British.”

He turned again to the room, the scratching of his fine fabrics and the creak of his boots as he shifted over the stained carpeting sounding odd to his ears in this place. The woman who had become Queen of her people, an accomplished warrior, and a goddess had grown up here, of all places?

“Your family was,” he searched for a kinder word than the first that came to his mind, “not well off?”

“Not at all. This was government housing. My human dad, Pete, died when I was a baby. My mum, Jackie, did the best she could to support us.”

Extrapolating on the appearance of the apartment, he imagined what her education must have been like, the children she spent her time with, the habits she would have had to form in order to survive in this world. It explained much about her demeanor; he hardly ever saw evidence of her regality, except perhaps in battle. She was often hasty, tactless, and quite frankly, everything His Majesty hadn’t been in a diplomatic setting. But that passion and fire and wonder he’d never associated with royalty was also what he’d fallen in love with. However, what he had learned of her past thus far suggested that she had spent hundreds of years in her native universe yet only a few decades in this place, at the most. Jackie Tyler must have made quite an impact on her identity to have affected her so completely.

“She sounds as though she were an incredibly strong woman. I should’ve very much liked to have met the woman that raised you to become what you are.” 

“Would you?”

Before he could answer with any sort of incredulity, interest, or alarm, she looked to the kitchen.  

The woman who emerged from the arch appeared to be in her mid-forties, with grey-blue eyes, the same heavily-applied eyeliner and mascara as Rose, and the same bleach-blonde hair. The faded jeans and violently pink t-shirt she wore were at odds with her age, but that wasn’t the only thing that was odd about this mad situation. Ignis was only just recovering from finding Rose in her current state, and the fact that other people could join them here in their private space came as a bit of a shock.

“Rose! There you are, darling,” the woman he assumed to be Jackie Tyler nearly sang, her voice high and shrill. “I’m gonna to be out late tonigh’. Mark’s takin’ me to the cinema. ‘E wanted to go down the pub, but I told ‘m if ‘e wants ta keep seein’ me, e’d better get ‘is act together. Might head down ta th’ shops after. You need anythin’?”

Mrs. Tyler seemed so real, so solid, as she moved around the living room, fussing with the blankets and setting a mug of tea on the coffee table, but she couldn’t be. Could she? It was one thing to conjure an apartment from memory, but a person? Perhaps this was merely a recording of a memory.

“‘Ere, who’s this then?” Mrs. Tyler asked, stopping to stare at him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

So much for that theory. Though he had no idea how Rose had managed such a feat, he could hardly stand there and gape at a woman he’d never met but still greatly admired, despite their disparate stations in life.

He collected himself and bowed in respect. “Ignis Scientia, at your service madam.”

Mrs. Tyler looked to Rose, who was smiling widely, the tip of her tongue touching her teeth.

“’E your boyfriend then?” Mrs. Tyler asked, and Rose nodded, still smiling.

When her eyes returned to him, they seemed to harden, and though Ignis hadn’t ever seen that expression on a woman’s face on his behalf, he still recognized that deadly protectiveness of motherhood. This woman may have been uneducated and poor, but that didn’t make her dim or harmless. In fact, Ignis found her quite the opposite as she glared at him.

“An’ what d’ya do for a livin’ then? D’ya make enough money ta support my lit’le girl? Those clothes seem posh enough,” she said, taking in his Crownsguard uniform with a shrewd eye.

Wishing to make a good first impression, he replied, “I serve as Chamberlain to the Crown Prince of Lucis, madam.”

“Ooooh, Rose, he _is_ rather posh, ain’t ‘e?” she cooed before glaring over at Rose. “Mind you, don’ you dare start gettin’ airs and graces,” she said sternly, pointing a finger at Rose’s chest. “You ‘member where ya come from, ya hear?”

Her voice was cheerful and shrill again when she turned back to him. “Well! Lemme see you! Turn ‘round!”

Not willing to wait for him to comply, Mrs. Tyler reached up and grasped his shoulder, turning him slowly in a circle. He caught sight of Rose as his back was turned; she was leaning against the arch leading to the hall, her face bright pink from holding in her mirth.

“Aww, shame about the bum on this one, Rose,” he heard her say, and his eyes widened in horror.

Rose seemed to snort and choke at the same time, a hand going to her forehead before she muttered, “Oh my god.” In a louder, sharper voice, she said, “Oi! This ain’t ‘bout _your_ tastes. You leave ‘im alone!”

_Sorry, love. She can be a bit . . . Jackie. You know I find your bum lovely._

_What the blazes is going on?!_

But Mrs. Tyler had spun him full circle, grabbing him by the chin and pulling him down to place a full, wet smack directly on his lips. “You’d bet’er take care of ‘er, or I’ll ‘ave you!” she threatened with a finger pointed in his face.

He skittered to Rose’s side, having had quite enough of being manhandled.

“I beg your pardon,” he said as smoothly as he could manage, though he couldn’t see why he was the one apologizing. By the time he had finished saying the words, however, the woman had vanished.

“Oh. My. Gods,” Rose laughed uproariously, hanging off his shoulders and burying her face into his chest. “I’m so sorry. But if you had met her in real life, she would have been exactly like that.”

Attempting to calm his racing heart and somewhat injured sensibilities, he said as calmly as he could, “So she wasn’t real, then.”

Rose pulled back enough to look up at him. “It’s complicated. She traveled with the Doctor, just once. I . . . sort of have access to the brain patterns of anyone who’s been on the Doctor’s ship. I created her image and allowed her to act of her own accord, but she was never alive in the true sense, no.”

“While I am honored to have met her, I do wish she hadn’t kissed me,” he said stiffly.

“You should feel fortunate. She slapped the Doctor the first time she met him officially, but he deserved it. Brought me home twelve months after I left with him instead of twelve hours,” she said with a wistful smile. “You’d never do that, so she obviously would have loved you.”

“I recognize much of her in you—your strength, your formidable will, even your accent, sometimes.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “My accent? It’s true I had a Cockney accent when I was young, but I don’t think I still do.”

“You mean you haven’t noticed? We all thought the switch was deliberate—another persona of yours. It seems every time you liaise with the local townspeople or when you remember things sometimes, your accent changes almost immediately.”

“I hadn’t noticed, no. Though I do suppose it is a persona, of sorts—just one of me. Rose is probably one of the most real personas I have.”

“And I’m honored to meet her as well,” he said gently, bringing a hand up to cup the side of her face. He wanted to lean down to kiss her, to thank her for showing him this, but he found he simply couldn’t. It felt too much like being unfaithful to _his_ Rose, his Laura. He settled for gently pressing his lips to her forehead instead.

“It’s all right,” she said soothingly into his chest. “The multiple bodies thing—I’ve been there and know how it is. Takes time to adjust. The Doctor did the same thing to me, but _he_ didn’t tell me beforehand.”

“I should like to meet him too, if that’s possible. And those you share a low bond with. Everyone who has ever meant anything to you—anyone you’re willing to share.”

“Really? You would want to meet a man I was once married to?” she asked incredulously.

“Our past forms the foundation of our present. We mustn’t forget that which made us what we are today, and he obviously played a significant part of who you became.”

She seemed to study him for a moment, searching his eyes, and he opened his mind to her, allowing her to see that he truly wished for nothing more than to grow closer to her by learning more about what had made her who she was.

Her expression softened before she said, “All right, but not tonight. It’s almost dawn back in Caem. Why don’t we visit somewhere you want to see for a bit before waking? Somewhere I’ve been in Lucis?”

There was really only once place in all this world that Ignis wished to see again—had wanted to see since he’d spent those two days trapped in the Royal Library.

“I should very much like to see the Crown City again, but I don’t suppose that you were there long enough t—“

Before he could finish the sentence, he found himself standing at the top of the observation deck a couple of blocks from the Citadel, and his heart clenched at seeing the familiar skyline restored to its former glory. He recognized every magnificent skyscraper, the likes of which he had seen nowhere else in his travels thus far, as the light of the afternoon sun bounced and refracted off the seemingly infinite glass windows. That terrible traffic, with its constant roaring soundtrack of horns blaring, engines sputtering, and the stench of heavy smog and engine fuel billowing, was just as he remembered it. From where they stood, he could just make out the main square—with its graceful statue of an angel standing proudly in the middle, juxtaposed by the gaudy television screens above her head and hanging from the sides of nearby buildings, advertising everything from fried chickatrice available twenty-four hours a day to the newest Libraphone. As he leaned over the glass railing, he could even see tiny dots of people moving along the congested sidewalk below.

By the gods, he was _home_ , as though nothing had ever happened, as though he could take the elevator downstairs, walk the few blocks to the Citadel, unlock his office, and go right back to his old life. And he hated himself for a moment for the flash of dread that shot through him at the prospect. Not prepared to deal with the implications of these feelings, he focused instead on the wonder of it.

“How is this possible? You can’t have been in Insomnia for more than a couple of days before you left and yet, the detail of the place. I can see my apartment from here. Rose! I can see the _plant_ in my apartment window from here. Is this how you remember your entire life?”

She stepped up to the railing next him, looking out over the city. “Yes. It’s a blessing and a curse, as I remember every horrible thing with just as much clarity. But for you? It’ll only ever be a blessing. We can walk in any memory I have.”

He sucked in a deep breath of the thick air of his home, his mind only beginning to grasp at the implication of her words, when she continued, “The sum of my experience and my knowledge is at your complete disposal. Every book I’ve ever read, every museum, show, lecture, or restaurant I’ve ever been to, some of the very best the multiverse has to offer, is now yours. We can go to any planet, see any celestial event, take any class as you sleep at night. Or we could lounge around on a couch somewhere and stare at a fireplace; it’s up to you.”

“Rose,” he gasped.

“From here, each night, I can show you the multiverse, piece by piece, if you want.”

The first two decades of his life had been spent mostly indoors with his nose in a book, laptop, or report, but the deepest recesses of his mind had always dared to dream of a life of exploration, a life of learning through experience. He had always thrust those images out of his mind as soon as they’d surfaced, for what was the point? He would always be an Advisor to the King underneath this dome, and he should’ve been grateful he’d been given as much as he had in this life. In a way, even out here beyond the Wall, his locale and how he spent his time were not of his own choosing.

But what she was proposing would increase his life lived by nearly a third, a life spent solely with her on grander adventures than any human could ever experience on his planet, with the added benefit of their every activity being _his_ choice and there being no true danger. He could live the life he’d never dared dream of and _still_ wake up in the morning to prepare breakfast before facing the monsters and the fate that awaited them.

He recalled that day in Galdin, when she’d all but begged him to eschew her royal title for her given name, and he’d wondered who he would become in order to keep her.

This was who he would become, and he found he couldn’t wait to begin.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some language borrowed from Doctor Who again when explaining where James came from.
> 
> Allow me to reassure you that this off-the-wallness is temporary, and we'll be returning to our regularly scheduled FFXV plot soon. Thank you for the indulgence.

When Ignis opened his eyes, the sun was only beginning to rise, adding a touch of pink and gold to the very point at which it was beginning to push its way up out of the horizon.

Just to ensure the entire experience he’d had last night hadn’t been some sort of wild hallucination, as he so often seemed to believe these days, he checked to ensure Rose’s gold filament was still there. He reached for it, caressing it and savoring the comforting weight of her in his mind, and he felt her body stir beside him as the thread grew brighter with her awareness.

“Mmmmm,” she said, leaning up to nuzzle at the crook of his neck. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

She should know, he thought, as she’d been there with him all night. But he did, in fact, feel well-rested, as though he’d been sleeping and not making a tree, getting accosted by a madwoman, and visiting home.

She chuckled. “There will be some getting used to things today. You might have some trouble balancing our connection and interacting with the real world. It’ll be hardest when I’m farther away, but since we’re safe, I should probably try to stay away at least a little bit so you can get used to things. Just start paying attention to what’s in your mug, or Noct might think I’ve wiped your brain.”

Her mind grew serious as she looked into his eyes. “Are you going to tell the others?”

He hesitated in thought. While he felt it was important that his closest friends knew something so profound about him, he wasn’t yet ready to share it with anyone. He imagined trying to explain what it was they shared and everyone’s reaction to this inhuman relationship—particularly after their reaction to their first night together. No, he didn’t think he was ready for it. Perhaps when he felt he could even begin to describe it to someone else, he would.

“All right,” she sighed, “I’m always going to leave this sort of thing up to you, but just so you know, it’s only going to get harder to tell them the longer you wait.”

She reached up and feathered a gentle finger over his lips, and he leaned forward, catching it gently between his teeth for a moment before letting her go.

“You’re going to have to work on that,” she said, touching his lips again. “You haven’t said a word out loud to me since you woke up. They’re going to find it rather odd if you stop talking altogether.”

Gently clearing his throat of his sleepy hoarseness, he said, “They might prefer it, if it means I cease nagging them.”

“For all their grousing, they love that you take care of them.” _Now let me take care of you,_ she said as she raised his t-shirt just enough to expose his chest and torso, nipping and kissing her way down to the trail of hair that led beneath his pajamas, and he sucked in a quiet breath and closed his eyes, his hands threading through her hair as she moved lower.

***

They stood about fifteen paces apart, dressed in their Crownsguard and Kingsglaive uniforms, glaring at each other across the distance. While he could still feel her gold thread, she had closed her thoughts to him, much as he had to her. She inclined her head, her gaze turning flirtatious and mischievous as she repeated the phrase she always did when they did this.

“Dance with me.”

They ran at each other, and as she drew closer, the shift of her weight off her left hip as she brought her leg up and around to kick at his head seemed to almost appear in his mind, so he automatically dropped to his left, extending a leg out to steady himself as his left hand brushed the dirt. Pivoting his weight to bring his extended leg out, he attempted to swipe her feet out from underneath her, but she hopped easily over it, spinning to the side and setting up to kick at his head again as he spun in the opposite direction, getting to his feet and raising his fists.

It had only taken a single session with her before he’d learned that one didn’t pull punches when fighting with Laura. It wasn’t that he’d been afraid to hit a woman in a mock combat situation; he’d sparred with many women in his life. It was simply a matter of courtesy that one didn’t put all of one’s strength into an attack whether the opponent was male or female, even if that meant the sacrificing of a sliver of one’s full speed. But after nearly half an hour of trying his hardest to land any sort of touch to her, he realized that she could move faster than any human could, Intuition or not, so it had been in his best interest to release the full measure of his strength and speed on her when they sparred.

As he straightened, he feinted a blow to her jaw with his left hand as he brought his right to her abdomen, but she bent below both hands and brought a leg up to his ribs, knocking him sideways before he could flip back on his hands. He stumbled in an attempt to regain his balance, but she leapt at him, cuffing him around the neck and sending him crashing to the ground with her straddling his middle.

“Good,” she said, leaning down to capture his lips briefly. “Again.”

He fell to her blows three more times that morning, which was a vast improvement over the twenty or thirty he’d endured every morning when they first began. Still, his more competitive side would always be a bit bruised when fighting her, as he knew that she mostly kept to a human’s speed and strength to make it fairer for him, but it meant he would never win outright.

_Gods, you’re doing so well, so quickly. We should start you on blades tomorrow._

_I can hardly wait,_ he said sarcastically, imagining how many times he would be flayed alive before he learned enough to avoid her blows.

 _Oh come on, love. You know I would **never**_ _do that to you. It’ll be just like the spar with Cor—actually less battering than the martial arts alone, though don’t think you won’t get knocked to the ground anymore._

 _Good,_ he said with a provocative glance from the side of his eye as they made their way down the hill to the house. _I should hate to think I no longer have an excuse to have you on top of me any longer._

_I think you still have plenty of excuses outside of sparring for **that**._

Ignis was about to grasp the handle of the front door when it was pulled out of his reach, the door opening to reveal Gladio.

“Hey,” Gladio said with a wide smile, but familiarity with him these past weeks made it all too clear to Ignis that his cheery demeanor was still a façade. “You two just get done sparring?”

“Yes,” he replied, narrowing his eyes at the smirk that had appeared across Gladio’s lips at the mention of their morning activities.

The others always seemed to behave oddly when the topic of his and Laura’s morning matches came up, especially when they reviewed a blow by blow analysis of their mock battles. Noct had nearly convulsed once when Laura mentioned that she’d given him a good licking, so they’d taken to discussing their fights telepathically. It seemed Gladio was the only one of the three who still brought the matter up, though he always did so with that spark of mischievous humor Ignis couldn’t understand. It wasn’t as though he himself didn’t spar with Laura most mornings.

“Anyway,” Gladio said, maneuvering between them, “gotta get goin’. My ride’s waiting.”

“Gladio, wait,” Laura called after him when he was almost down the steps, and he turned to look at her. For once, they were almost the same height as she stood on the top step and pulled him into her arms, pressing her lips to his cheek before squeezing him tightly. “Please, please be careful. Come back to us soon, and in one piece, yeah?”

 _I don’t have any proof, but I feel as though he’s going to do something dangerous,_ she said.

“Gladio, do be certain not to do anything I wouldn’t,” he said gravely as Gladio wrapped his arms around Laura’s back and returned her embrace.

He smiled over her shoulder at him. “That doesn’t leave me with a lotta options, Ig.” He pulled away from Laura and gave them a casual wave. “Anyway, see you guys soon.”

 _Will he be all right?_ he asked as they stood watching him walk down the hill.

_I don’t know, but I don’t think he’ll find his peace without doing whatever this is._

Though they took turns showering in the guest bathroom downstairs, she joined him as he applied the wax to his hair, summoning his shaving kit as she had their first morning together to lather his soap and hone his razor on the strop.

 _We should make breakfast for everyone this morning—give Monica a break after last night and thank everyone for their hard work,_ she said, standing and gently removing his hands to assist him with the more stubborn feathering at the back of his neck. Eager to save time, he nodded his thanks and began lathering his face and neck as she worked.

“Yes, a very good idea,” he agreed.

“Actually, would you mind getting started on that yourself? Think I’m going to head up to the lighthouse and see if Cid wants to join us. I’ll either have to charm the pants off him or beat him up to get him to leave his work, but one way or another, he’s coming down here. That poor man needs a break.”

They hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the man since they’d arrived the previous afternoon, and they’d all heard from Dustin and Monica that he’d barely left the boat, sleeping in the cabin below and taking his meals on the deck as he worked.

“Yes, of course.” He leaned to kiss her on the cheek before swiping a dollop of lather he’d left behind on her face.

When they emerged from the bathroom, she pulled two loaves of hot bread from her Pocket and handed it to him.

“Do whatever you like with those and I’ll hopefully be back down soon to help.”

“How are these still piping hot? They feel as though you just pulled them out of the oven. I never did ask after the Ebony.”

Her brow furrowed. “I thought your armiger was null-time. Isn’t it how you keep ingredients fresh? I just put them away as soon as I took them out.”

He shook his head. “Our armiger is less versatile than yours, it would seem. It does keep ingredients fresh, but not to a specific temperature.”

“Oh gods, if I’d known, I would’ve offered so much sooner. I guess I just never use yours for stuff like that. Ignis, we can pre-cook meals while we’re here and pull them out when we have late nights on the road. It would save you so much time.”

“Truly? I’ll have to make a plan tonight then,” he said, setting the loaves on the counter before they grew too hot for him to handle.

“All right, I’ll come back up to help as soon as I finish dragging Cid’s unconscious body down here. Try not to use any knives while I’m gone, yeah? First time the bond’s going to be tested.”

“All right. Do take care not to hurt Cid too badly. We do need him to fix the boat, after all.”

It wasn’t until she had closed the front door behind her that he began to feel it—her presence growing farther away as it had with their temporary connection, and he found himself grasping involuntarily at the thread in his head until his entire mind was focused on her thoughts and the sight of the uneven rocky steps buried in the sand leading up to the lighthouse.

_I’m still here, love. You don’t need to hold on so tightly._

_I know; I’m trying. I just can’t seem to help myself._

Only vaguely aware of his own body, he reached into the refrigerator, deciding that something simple like eggs, fruit, and toast would be best, given his state this morning. It took him an absurd amount of time to pull out each piece of fruit one by one, pushing aside Laura’s sight long enough to verify that he was reaching for the correct object before carefully setting it on what may or may not have been an empty spot on the counter. This frustrating process was followed by the vegetables he intended to use in the scrambled eggs, then the eggs themselves.

Laura was just stepping onto the boat when he felt a rough shove to his side, and he turned to focus on Cid . . . no, Noct examining him.

“Are you okay, Specs? Been calling your name for like, five minutes now.”

“Yeah, man, never seen anyone take that long to pick out ingredients before,” Prompto laughed uncomfortably from behind Noct before narrowing his eyes in concern.

 _I’m quite all right, thank you for your concern,_ he said with a nod before turning back to reach for the bowl on the shelf above his head.

“Aww, you’re not mad about yesterday, are you?” Prompto asked, his expression growing troubled as he shifted from foot to foot. “We were just havin’ fun.”

 _You’ll need to say that to them out loud, love,_ Laura said gently.

“Yeah, we’re sorry if we . . . you know, offended you or anything,” Noct agreed. “I swear I put your clothes back just how I got ‘em.”

As Cid’s lecture about getting his work completed before the retinue set sail assaulted his ears, he struggled to concentrate enough to find a space to put the bowl on the counter, but he’d misjudged as he set it haphazardly on the egg cartons, where it fell to the countertop with a rolling clatter that seemed to last an absurdly long time. At registering Noct’s words, however, he found it easier to settle completely into his own mind and look up sharply at him.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, ignoring the way Noct’s and Prompto’s eyes shifted back and forth between him and the bowl. “What’s this about my clothes?”

“Uhh, you know what? Never mind. Where’s Laura?”

 _She’s . . ._ “She’s threatening Cid with bodily harm if he refuses to join us for breakfast.”

“I wish her the best of luck with that,” Dustin said as he and Monica entered the main room from the door that led to the hall of bedrooms where they, Lady Iris, and Talcott slept.

“Good morning,” Ignis greeted as he set up the mixing bowl and opened the carton of eggs. It was fortunate he could accomplish this task without sight or concentration, as the shifting perspectives between the lighthouse and the work in front of him would have meant more shell than egg in the bowl for a man of lesser skill.

_You just need to let go and let it settle._

_I see now why you required us to be safe for a few days. Will it really take that long?_

“Please, have a seat and relax,” he said to Dustin and Monica before they headed toward the kitchen, likely to assist him. “Laura and I will be taking over breakfast, as a thank you for your hard work and hospitality.”

“Your thanks isn’t necessary; it’s our pleasure to serve you boys. But I’m very interested to sample some of the famous Mr. Scientia’s cuisine regardless,” Monica said.

_If I stay far enough away to allow you to practice, you should be able to handle yourself all right by the end of the day, maybe tomorrow. All your telepathic and combat practice helps._

“I’m afraid it won’t be anything terribly elaborate this morning. Perhaps I can plan something more befitting for this evening.”

He had made it halfway through breaking the two dozen eggs when Laura’s perspective inserted itself into his own again. Though Cid’s expression was twisted in irritation, Ignis could see the twinkle in his eyes as Laura clung to the arm that was holding a wrench over the boat’s engine.

 _“Please, Cid?”_ Laura begged, and he could tell from the tone of her voice she was fluttering her eyelashes at the poor man. _“I’m jus’ tryin’ ta get a good lookin’ man to agree t’a date wiv me!”_

 _“Phooey,”_ Cid spat, but he put the wrench down, his lips quirking up into a smile.

Ignis chuckled, shaking his head. _You can’t blame the man for being somewhat irritated for you wrenching him away from his work._

_Why not? It’s practically what I do for a living._

“What are you laughing at?” Noct asked, looking at him as though he’d lost his mind, and perhaps he had.

“Apologies, just thinking of something else,” he replied. _Just watching my wife flirt with a man one-one hundredth her age from a tenth of a mile away._

He froze at his thought, the egg in his hand hovering just over the rim of the bowl. Was that what she was now? His wife? He allowed himself to let the concept fill his mind—possessing her, claiming her for his own . . . yes. It filled him with a masculine pride and power that surprised him with its intensity.

Of all the things that could have happened when they’d set out to meet Noct’s bride, finding one of his own was not a scenario he could have ever imagined. He’d never given much thought to when or if he would marry; it had always been a nebulous possibility far along in his future. But why had he not thought of it in those terms until now? It somehow made their bonding more real, even if the concept was no different than what he’d promised her last night.

 _My wife,_ he thought to himself, and reveled in the pleasure he received from hearing it in his mind.

 _My husband,_ he heard her echo in his thoughts.

And that was yet another angle to think of it from. He pictured himself as her husband and all the feelings and responsibilities he felt the title entailed. He would cherish her, protect her, serve, care, and provide for her—as best he could, as he knew she was more than capable of doing all those things for herself. Still, it would be his honor to do so.

_I think I understand. Bonding and telepathy and connections—they don’t have the centuries of cultural history behind them that words like marriage do for you. We could even do a traditional Lucian ceremony, or whatever your customs are here, if you wanted. It’s important to me that you feel this is legitimate in your culture as well._

_Would you be all right either way?_ Now that he was already essentially married, he wasn’t certain how he felt about drawing so much attention to themselves. A bonding was already far more binding than a wedding, after all, and with them seeming to attract the attention of more and more enemies by the day, concealment of their status would probably be for the best.

_Yes, whatever you want to do. While I agree drawing attention to ourselves while Ardyn is so interested in us is a bad idea, you should also keep in mind that a ceremony is for the benefit of the friends of the couple, as well. You should tell them eventually, love._

“Seriously, Iggy, what the hell?” Noct cut into their conversation, and Ignis realized he’d stood frozen over the bowl for far too long to be considered normal. “Yesterday was one thing, but today’s worse. Really. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I can help with some of that, ya know,” Prompto pointed to the eggs. “Long as you don’t ask me to do any like, actual cooking or anything.”

“Thank you for the offer, Prompto, but I have matters well in hand. As to my state today, I assure you it should pass by tomorrow. Truly, Highness, I’m quite all right. If you will excuse me for a moment?”

 _Stay outside when Cid comes in,_ he instructed her just as he felt her stepping on the front porch.

He had neared the door when Cid opened it, who was grumbling to himself as he maneuvered past Ignis to sit down at the table.

“Pardon me,” Ignis said with a slight bow before heading out to the porch.

She was waiting for him down the steps and around the corner, out of sight.

“You’re my _wife_ ,” he said before he strode up to her, wrapped his hands around the back of her neck and head, pushed her to the wall, and lunged for her mouth.

_Mine. My friend. My lover. My wife._

_Ignis . . . my beloved. My precious husband._

“Are you all right?” she asked when they pulled apart, but she continued to press sweet, slow kisses on his neck and beneath his collar.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, a chuckle escaping his lips, and without opening his eyes or answering her, his chuckles grew to laughter. 

_Okay, ‘no’ seems like the safe answer._

“Forgive me. It’s just that I can’t think of any moment in my life when I have ever been more all right.”

“Come on, loon,” she said with a chuckle, chucking him under the chin and leading him back up the stairs. “I’ll help with breakfast before Noct starts cracking potions over your head, but then I’m staying far enough away for you to practice. You don’t have to hold that dual sensation unless you want to, you know.”

 _I know,_ he said as they entered the house together, _and I apologize if I’ve been irritating you, haunting your mind like some sort of phantom._

_Nonsense. You know I love having you here. But I know from personal experience that it takes some getting used to._

“This little lady won’ take ‘no’ for an answer,” Cid grumbled as they passed him, jerking a thumb in Laura’s direction. “An’ it looks like breakfast ain’t even ready yet. You know how much work I could be gittin’ done right now?”

“Hush,” she said sternly. “You’re gonna sit, relax, an’ be a part o’ the group for an hour—no more, no less. You’re gonna have a fantastic meal, and then ya can go back to your cave. Don’t make me call Cindy!”

“Hmph!”

***

Ignis collapsed onto the couch, enjoying the feeling of slouching for a moment before pulling himself straight and crossing his legs. Summoning his notebook, he began compiling a menu that would feed the five of them for two weeks, listing the ingredients he would need, and deciding the optimal order in which to accomplish the task in a day.

It had been a more toilsome day than he’d expected it to be, considering that all he did was putter around the cape, assisting Dustin with house maintenance and attempting to stay as far away from Laura’s mind as he could. Noct and Prompto had taken Talcott to the shore to teach him how to fish while Laura and Lady Iris planted an entire plot of Caem Carrots to barter with a restauranteur who was in search of the rare ingredient. Fortunately, Noct and Prompto had relaxed some at the return of his usual behavior once Laura had stayed by his side for breakfast, but he feared Dustin was now concerned for his sanity, as he had tried several times that day to speak to Laura or engage Lady Iris in conversation as he worked. At one point, he’d even reached down to move the trowel in front of him out of the way, only to find Dustin staring at him in confusion as he grasped for empty air.

As he listed the ingredients they would need to pick up from the JM Market truck at the base of the hill in the morning, he felt Laura sit down on the bed she’d claimed, and he looked up to see Noct and Prompto join him on the ottomans across, pulling out their phones to start a game.

 _What is it?_ he asked, feeling Laura’s mind glowing in admiration as he worked.

_I knew your mind was beautiful the day I met you—the colors of your shifting thoughts and the quiet intensity of it standing out to me before you had even entered the room. Our superficial joining merely confirmed it. But now with the true bond, I can honestly say that I will never tire of watching your mind work. It’s exquisite, Ignis._

_Rose . . . I’m making a **to-do list** , _he said skeptically.

_Even so._

_Well, seeing as how you’re stuck with me, it’s probably for the best that you find me so alluring._

“Hey Laura,” Prompto said, lunging off the ottoman for a moment to slap her knee. “Why don’t you borrow Iggy’s phone and play with us?”

Ignis pulled out his phone without looking up and held it out to Prompto to pass to her. “Yes, please, help yourself.”

“All right,” she said taking the phone from Prompto. “But you’re going to be sorely disappointed. Afraid I’m no good at video games. Will you guys teach me?”

“Dude, King’s Knight isn’t a _video game_ ; it’s a way of life!” Prompto cried out.

“Oh! My apologies!” she said in mock horror, sticking her tongue out at him and tossing a throw pillow at his head.

They played for about an hour while Ignis worked, with Laura starting out poorly and getting progressively worse.

“It’s about time you’re horrible at something,” Noct said, laughing.

“What can I say? I warned you,” she replied with a smile.

“For a first time, I think you managed all right,” Ignis said diplomatically as he stowed his phone away. “But I think it’s time for me turn in for the night.” He hadn’t realized it until that moment, but he was exhausted.

“I’m about ready to pass out myself,” Noct said with a yawn.

“Me too,” Prompto agreed. “Somethin’ about bein’ at the beach all day wears me out.”

 _Four beds, four occupants,_ he said, shaking his head as he headed toward the restroom to ready himself for bed.

 _But we’ll always be together now. Do you wish to sleep in your own head tonight, or share?_ she asked him.

“Oh, I should think sharing, from now on, if you don’t mind,” he replied.

As he shut the bathroom door behind him, Laura’s perspective growing more and more prominent in his mind, he saw the identical expressions of bemusement on Noct’s and Prompto’s faces.

“He was just . . . answering a question I’d asked him. You had to have been there,” she said to them.

Drat, and he’d been doing so well this evening.

When the four of them were all in their own beds, Ignis spared Laura a longing glance across the way before Prompto leaned over to turn off the last light. He felt her pulling him under through their bond the moment he closed his eyes, and he sunk into the feeling, crossing to the center of the bridge the moment he was fully asleep. She was waiting for him when he arrived.

“It should be easier tomorrow, I promise,” she said.

“I certainly hope so,” he said, taking her into his arms and kissing her temple. “Otherwise they’re going to have me committed by the end of the day.”

“We’ll worry about that tomorrow. Where do you want to go tonight?”

“I’d like to meet the Doctor, if that’s all right with you,” he said, brushing his fingers against her cheek.

She seemed to study him for a moment, and even he was able to fathom how odd it must have seemed for a current husband to request to meet the late husband, even if one didn’t take into account the fact that the man had been dead for longer than the line of Lucian Kings existed. But she clearly still loved the Doctor fiercely; he could see it in her face every time she remembered him. If her enduring love for him was any indication of how she would feel for Ignis seven thousand years after they were parted, he would be most fortunate indeed. And he had to admit to himself that he was, perhaps, the slightest bit curious to meet the only other man in existence that had belonged to her as thoroughly as he himself did.

“You’re incredible,” she said, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Not even a hint of jealousy.”

“I don’t see why I should be,” he replied furrowing his brow down at her. “You couldn’t possibly belong to me any more than you do already.”

“Just don’t expect the same courtesy from him,” she said, nodding to direct his attention behind him. “Clearly, age isn’t necessarily an indicator of maturity.”

Ignis turned around to see the shed he’d seen once in her dreams. It reminded him of the phone booths he used to see around Insomnia before mobile technology took over their society, but the panels were a weathered blue wood, with two paned windows set at eye level in front. The words _POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX_ were written above the door in bold, white letters.

“Again, I seemed to have missed some detail in your plan. I thought we were meeting the Doctor.”

Though it was unlikely, given the stories she’d told about her late husband thus far, he supposed it wasn’t completely beyond the realm of possibility that the Doctor had been a blue shed. He really ought not to make any sort of assumptions about anything when on these mad adventures.

“Yes, but meeting the Doctor means meeting the TARDIS,” she said, approaching the shed and reaching a hand out to stroke the wood as though it were a beloved pet. “She’s just as important as the Doctor, though she would likely argue that she’s more important.”

Ignis reached out to run his fingers along the wooden corner. It felt warm to the touch, and if he concentrated, he could feel a gentle vibration, like a humming, emanating through the shed up to his fingertips.

“She’s alive?”

“She’s a sentient time and space ship,” she said with a nod. “The Doctor lives and travels in her; I did as well, for a couple of years. We ran across all of time and space together, and she and I got . . . really close. Come on, let’s go inside.”

“This time and space ship is made of wood,” he said flatly.

She grinned at him before looking down, flipping the pendant of her necklace over, and pulling out a key set into the white-silver metal.

“Remember, looks can be deceiving. Come on in,” she said, opening the creaking door.

The [room](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/tardis/images/a/ac/Ninth_Tenth_Doctor_control_room.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20180204232414) inside was enormous, with a high ceiling, walls covered in round lights, towering gold coral branches, and an array of electric cords dangling haphazardly from above. In the center of the room stood what appeared to be a circular control panel of sorts, covered in various odds and ends that he supposed were controls, though they appeared to Ignis as a random assortment of knickknacks collected from various junk shops. As he studied the panel, he thought he recognized a bicycle air pump and a paperweight, even. From the center of the control panel rose a column, pulsing with a blue-green light that seemed to radiate life as it reached to the ceiling and cast the dark room in an eerie glow.

“It’s larger than all of Insomnia back there,” Laura said, pointing to a door on the other side of the room. “I mean it. The Doctor once had an entire family living back there for years that he forgot about.”

“This ship managed to create a pocket universe that one could step into?” he asked in awe as he stared around at the room.

“Yes, but ooh, would the Doctor be disappointed you didn’t say it was ‘bigger on the inside.’”

“Is that what everyone says?” he asked, somewhat pleased with himself for understanding at least one aspect of this alien world.

She smiled. “Yep, said it myself when I first walked in. Well . . . walked in, walked back out and around the outside, escaped a murderous plastic version of my boyfriend, then walked back in again.”

“Rose Tyler,” Ignis heard a man’s voice from the other side of the control panel say in an unfamiliar accent. “It’s been far too long since you pulled me out o’ th’ mothballs for a good chinwag.”

The [man](https://i.kinja-img.com/gawker-media/image/upload/s--MQUNYk0a--/c_scale,f_auto,fl_progressive,q_80,w_800/ahfmsqnrka4vmg02acsk.jpg) that stalked from the other side of the control panel was somewhat daft-looking, with a rather large nose and ears, but Ignis could see the soldier in the man’s demeanor— strong brow, functional leather jacket and boots, dark short-cropped hair, and piercing ice blue eyes. His expression seemed to transform completely, however, as soon as he’d caught sight of Rose, becoming animated with a wide grin that Ignis could only describe as foolish. Whatever degree of sentience this projection possessed clearly recognized Rose despite her appearing in her blue-eyed, black-haired form.

“Are you living a fantastic life, like I asked?” the man Ignis assumed to be the Doctor asked as he looked down at her tenderly.

“I am now,” she said, turning her head to Ignis with a bright smile, and his heart seemed to skip a beat at her words and the look in her eyes. “This was what the Doctor looked like when I first met him. He’s a full Time Lord, and when he dies, he regenerates—every cell in his body changes to save himself. One of our adventures went a bit . . . wrong, and he died to save me.”

“I thought you told me your husband was half-human, half-Time Lord,” Ignis said, though he supposed he should have expected something overly complex the moment she’d mentioned ‘multiple bodies’ the previous evening.

“Oi, I’m standin’ right ‘ere, d’you mind?” the Doctor asked, the pitch in his voice going up in offense.

“Forgive me, I do beg your pardon,” Ignis said as he bowed his head in contrition.

Though the Doctor was the same height as he, he seemed to tower over him as he drew close, his blue eyes turning even icier as he studied Ignis intensely, seeming to stare into his soul. Recognizing this as a challenge, Ignis stood his ground, pulling his spine straight and setting his features to the cold expression he reserved for gaining ground in diplomatic relations.

“Bloody hell, the testosterone,” he heard Rose say, “Don’t let him wind you up.”

“So . . . it’s finally happened; you’ve gone domestic again. This him then?” the Doctor asked sternly, still glaring inches away from Ignis’s face.

“His name is Ignis,” she replied. “Be nice!”

“He’s a bit pretty.”

“Hadn’t noticed,” she said sarcastically.

Were they truly bantering about his physical appearance, flattering though it was, while the man who may or may not have been her late husband stared him down?

_I told you you were beautiful. And he certainly has no reason to lie._

The Doctor’s face transformed again, his eyes growing bright and that mad grin he sometimes saw Rose imitate spreading across his face.

“Very well then! A pleasure to meet you, Eustace! Should probably get goin’ though. Don’ wanna be late for the main event,” he said stepping away with a cheery wave and disappearing.

“Ignis,” he corrected automatically to the empty air in front of him, and Rose chuckled, wrapping her arm around his and leaning into his shoulder.

“Honestly love, that’s his version of polite. Not everyone is as gentlemanly as you are.”

“Clearly,” he remarked. “And how does this Time Lord relate to your half-Time Lord husband? I assume it has something to do with his . . . transformation?”

“Regeneration, it’s called. And . . . sort of,” she said, nodding to the door that led to the back of the ship.

A frenetic ball of energy stalked out of the door, rushing to the control panel as though the world were about to end, flipping switches, pumping handles, and spinning dials seemingly at random. He seemed to dance and spin around the circular panel carelessly with a familiar mad grin as he continued to work.

[He](http://www.bbc.co.uk/doctorwho/medialibrary/images/1024/s4_01_wal_15.jpg?size=1024&promo=/doctorwho/medialibrary/images/main-promo/s4_01_wal_15.jpg&purpose=Computer%20wallpaper&summary=Flying%20solo...&info=&tag_file_id=s4_01_wal_15) was completely unrecognizable from the last man they’d met—tall and thin, dark brown hair arranged haphazardly in spikes, thick-rimmed glasses, and a brown suit with blue pinstripes.

 _Plimsolls with a suit?_ he asked dubiously.

 _Says the man currently wearing a coeurl-print dress shirt with a studded collar,_ she said, smiling and sticking her tongue out at him.

He couldn’t help but notice the physical similarities between this man and himself, dress-sense notwithstanding, and for the first time this evening, he felt a stirring of uneasiness. Was she only attracted to him because he reminded her of the Doctor?

 _Absolutely not,_ she said vehemently. _There are some minor surface similarities in your physical descriptions, yes, though I’d argue that you’re more elegant. You’re both extremely intelligent and have a penchant for wearing glasses you don’t need. But believe me, the comparison stops there. You’ll see all too clearly in a moment that I love you for who **you** are, not for who he is. You’re nothing alike in personality._

“Where to next, Rose?” the Doctor asked as he continued to dance around the control panel. “We could go to Gajarik Bfphtorak next. They’ve got the absolute best banana milkshakes this side of the cosmos! And if we go in the 34th century, they’ve got an anti-gravity buffet— _superb_ rejit krispies! But you’ll need to change into a plastisuit first, you know—the mess. Or! We could hit up the planet Barcelona to see the dogs with no noses. Never did get around to doing that, did we? Hold on—”

He skidded to a halt and whipped his head up to face them.

“Oh! Hello! Sorry to be rude, but that’s me: rude and not ginger, but who are you? I’m the Doctor!  Welllll, not really,” he rattled, squinting and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m more of a temporal flashback brought to life by the firing of groups of neurons in Rose’s brain in the same pattern that created the original experience . . . wellll, not really; it’s complicated; she’s combined my memories and brainwave patterns accessed through her bond with the TARDIS with her own. But oh! I suppose you wouldn’t understand that yet; she hasn’t gotten around to that part, has she? Sorry!”

_Heavens, did he always go on like this?_

_Ha! That man could talk for England—talk his way out of any war, prison cell, or monarch interested in executing us._

“This was the man you spoke of that refused to use a weapon?”

“That’s right! Don’t need weapons when you’ve got words! And your trusty sonic screwdriver,” the Doctor said, holding up a device and giving Ignis a click of the tongue and a wink.

“And this man was the one who became your husband? The one you bonded with?”

“Wellll, no, not exactly,” the Doctor said as he thrust his head between them with a finger raised. “You see, I’m still a full Time Lord. Rose and I were never . . . anyway. I went ahead and died again, but I didn’t want to change. Why would I? Just look at me!” He sniffed and straightened his tie, thrusting his chin high into the air. “Used the regeneration energy to heal myself, but as soon as that was done, I didn’t need to change. So, to stop the energy going all the way, I siphoned off the rest into a handy bio-matching receptacle, namely my hand. My hand there,” he said, nodding to a bubbling jar at the base of the control panel, in which sat a severed hand. “My handy spare hand.”

“Do Time Lords typically have more than two hands?” Ignis asked him, searching for where a third appendage might have been.

“Nahhhh,” he said, holding up his right hand and wiggling his fingers. “Got cut off in a swordfight with a Sycorax in the first fifteen hours of my regeneration cycle and grew it back.”

“Which led to the events that created me, of course,” said a second man as he emerged from behind the control panel. “Hello! I’m the Doctor! Or James, as Rose sometimes likes to call me, just to differentiate me from this spaceman over here,” he said, jerking a thumb over at the first Doctor.

“Oi! Watch it!” the first Doctor threatened.

Ignis turned to Rose, his eyes widening, completely dumbfounded. “It’s no wonder you’re completely mad,” he whispered.

The second man was absolutely identical to the first, except that he wore a blue suit over a purple t-shirt. He had the same wild, brown eyes; the same wild, spiky hair; and the same frenetic manner.

The blue suited Doctor turned back to Ignis. “All that regeneration energy went into the hand,” he said, holding up his right hand, and Ignis cast a glance back down to the bubbling jar, which was now empty. “Look at that hand—I love that hand—but then Donna Noble touched it. WHAM! Instantaneous biological metacrisis! Part-Time Lord, part-human—one heart, no regenerations, one life to live. You see, I’m sort of a clone, but from two people, and I’ve got all the Time Lord’s memories.”

“Oi! Not a clone—a _metacrisis,_ ” the brown-suited Doctor corrected.

“Oh, come on, you prawn,” he argued, gesturing at Ignis. “The man may be a genius, but he’s not going to understand what a metacrisis is. I’m a unique event in time and space as it is!”

“All right, that’s enough, you two,” Rose interrupted, and they both turned to look at her, falling silent.

“I suppose it would be easier to explain the rest without us here bickering at each other,” James said, rubbing at the back of his neck and wincing.

“I suppose . . . Rose Tyler,” the brown-suited man said with a cheeky grin and luminous eyes, waving as he disappeared.

“He didn’t even ask for your name, did he?” James said, shaking his head. “Suppose it doesn’t matter. It isn’t as though either of us will remember this.” He sighed heavily, stepping up to Rose. “I’m sure I told you before, but I love the new look,” he said, running a finger along her chin before pulling away. “It was a fantastic life, Rose Tyler.” He turned to Ignis, his eyes curious as he tilted his head. “Take care of her, and she’ll give you a fantastic life too.”

When he disappeared, Ignis breathed in slow and deep, that indefinable scent that he would sometimes catch on Rose rushing into his lungs before he let it out slowly.

“Are you all right?” she asked, looking up at him and placing a hand over his heart.

“It’s certainly not what I expected, but it never is with you. You needn’t worry. I’m not so delicate that I’m about to run screaming back into my own head,” he said with a soft smile. “It’s plain that they all loved you dearly. You can tell just by the way they say your name.”

She hummed at him, standing up on her toes to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. “It’s the same way you say my name, love.”

“But what is the rest of the story? How did you end up with James and not the Time Lord? I assume the Time Lord’s lifespan would be more appropriate to your own.”

“We all thought I was human back then, so the Time Lord left us on a parallel Earth with my mum and a parallel version of my dad.”

“But this man, the Doctor, the Time Lord, is still out there somewhere.”

“Correct.”

“He’s the one you’re searching for, isn’t he? The one you’ve been jumping universes for.”

She hesitated. “I started out jumping dimensions after the war with my people to look for him, yes. But it’s been so long now. He wouldn’t even recognize me anymore—my body or my personality. He may have regenerated again, or even died permanently. I’m not certain if you could say I was solely looking for him any longer.”

“Seven thousand years is a very long time.”

“That it is. He himself was only nine hundred there, or so he claims.”

“He was a nine-hundred-year-old man who absconded with you at nineteen?”

She laughed. “You should talk! You do realize that you are a twenty-two-year-old man who has been abducted by a seven-thousand-year-old woman in a similar manner? _And_ I’ve known you since you were nine years old.”

“I suppose you have a point,” he said, frowning.

“Would you like to stop for now? Because it’s about to get weirder.”

“Are we meeting your low-bonded partners now? Please, proceed. I said that I wanted to get to know you, and I meant it.”

 _Honestly, you can cease coddling me. I knew I was jumping feet first into a mad adventure when I married you. You’re only giving me what I wanted,_ he said, lowering his head to kiss her briefly before stepping back and gesturing for her to continue.

She nodded and walked up the ramp to the control panel, placing her hands reverently along the edge and stroking the controls gently with her fingertips. Ignis couldn’t be certain, but he thought he heard the hum of the ship swell for a moment before settling into the background. A gold sparkling tendril of light snaked up her hands, wrapping around her arms and encircling her shoulders, and when she looked up, her eyes contained those streaks of gold he would sometimes see. He hadn’t thought to use his extra senses in his place, and when he reached out to detect her aura, the power of the magic of Eos emanating from her and the TARDIS sent him staggering back down the ramp until he could close the sense again. That energy, and the presence along with it, felt real in a sense the others hadn’t.

“She is real,” Laura said quietly, caressing the gold. “She’s really here in my head, not a memory. The Doctor, the very first one you met, was in trouble. She and I bonded, became the Bad Wolf, the Goddess of Time—able to see all of time and space and change it as we saw fit— to save him. That Doctor died taking the power from me, regenerating into the second one you saw, but she left this piece of her in me, too small to be noticeable until hundreds of years later. From her, I gained the traits of Time Lord and TARDIS alike, eventually. It’s why my people considered me a freakish hybrid; I am part Lliamérian, Time Lady, and TARDIS.”

“You know that hardly matters to me,” he said, coming up behind her and placing a hand over hers. “What does ‘having traits of Time Lord and TARDIS alike’ entail?”

“A few traits my own people don’t have: two hearts, respiratory bypass, healing coma, time sense, the ability to let go of corporeal form and time travel. I may not have the complete power of the Bad Wolf within me, but I am still able to call up her shadow should I need her, as you’ve seen.”

“If you’re part Time Lord, does that mean you’ll regenerate when you die? As the Doctor did?” He’d already been given a taste of what it would be like for her to inhabit another body, and he believed he could grow used to it if necessary.

She paled at his query. “I don’t know,” she whispered, “I hope not. Gods, could you imagine my lifespan then? I’ve come very close many times, but I’ve never gotten the chance to find out.”

As the gold retreated back into the console, he said, “I realize this may be a selfish notion, but given the level of danger we seem to keep running into, I’m somewhat relieved to hear that it is, at least, a possibility.”

The look she gave him was unfathomable, but before he could reach out to comfort her, she closed her eyes and shook her head, melting the interior of the TARDIS away to reveal a small clearing surrounded by the tallest, largest trees Ignis had ever seen—some even larger and wider around than the Citadel towers. Ignis looked up to see the pale blue sky dotted with little white puffs of clouds, and as the breeze blew through his hair, he noted that the scent of pine was similar to Laura’s.

“This is just outside Lliaméra. Are you ready to meet Eilendil? Remember,” she warned, “He’s not a memory either. He’s very real, but he won’t stay long. He never was terribly sociable, even when he was alive.”

“I shall be on my very best behavior,” he said with a smirk, but he couldn’t help but notice that everyone she’d introduced him to thus far had been rather impolite in some fashion or another. Given her influences, it was a wonder she wasn’t completely feral.

Her answering chuckle was drowned out by an incredible roar that shook the grassy soil beneath their feet, making him stumble back a couple paces before regaining his composure. He heard the deep, heavy percussions of what sounded like an enormous drum being pounded at regular intervals. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, and as he searched the clearing for the source, the ear-shattering sound only seemed to grow more overwhelming.

 _I should also mention that he’s a terrible showoff—immortals and their dramatics_ , she said, rolling her eyes. 

As the light from the sun was blotted out, Ignis looked up to see the source of the sound. To say that it was an enormous creature would be an understatement, as he believed he himself would only stand up to the first joint of its foreleg. He’d never seen its exact like on Eos, though he’d read descriptions of similar animals on his home planet. It appeared to be part reptile, part bird—the size of the zu they’d seen outside Galdin, but with glittering silver scales that caught the sunlight as it landed and refracted to cover the entire meadow with millions of prisms of light.

 _His species, he’s called a dragon_.

The dragon folded its massive leathery wings and lowered its spiked head to blink at them with a clicking eyelid and a monstrous silver eye. Ignis hadn’t been afraid of any of the people he’d met thus far, and he wasn’t _truly_ afraid now, for he knew that Rose would never introduce him to a creature that would harm him. But he would be deceiving himself if he said he was completely unconcerned at the creature that could quite easily bite him in half or swallow him whole.

“Ignis Scientia,” he managed politely, taking a step back from the rather dangerous-looking spiked crest that ran up the beast’s neck and culminated in two rather magnificent horns on his head. He bowed in respect. “It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

The dragon took a heavy step forward and sniffed at him, his hot breath sounding more like an oncoming storm than an inhalation, and Ignis had to fight the urge to summon his daggers.

“He’d like to speak with you. Would you mind a shallow connection? Like the one I made with Noct,” Laura asked.

So the creature was not only intelligent, he also seemed to follow the same strict rules for communication with apaths as Laura. That, at least, was encouraging.

Ignis looked up at Eilendil. “Yes, you have my permission for a shallow connection any time you like.”

He didn’t feel a change inside his head to indicate Eilendil’s presence as his deep, growling bass said, _The Firebreather meets Fire. Well met, Ignis Scientia. I am Eilendil._

“It’s custom for members of Lliamérian royalty and noble families to form a bond with a dragon as a symbol of the peace treaty between the two races we enacted many centuries ago. Together, the two form a team and keep the peace throughout the land, whatever that may entail,” Laura said.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Ignis said, looking to the dragon’s eye still hovering at eye level to him, “where is your body now, if your mind is here?”

 _Dead. My mind lives on in my heart around Laurelín’s neck,_ he said, his nose shifting minutely to the blue crystal that she never took off. _It is a way of life for my kind. Laurelín is my only view to the world outside after death._

“He’s also a source of our native energy should I ever need it, but there’s not much he can give.”

 _This world is strange, it’s life force an abomination to yours. And yet you stay, for them._ Eilendil turned his head to Ignis, seeming to glare as he narrowed his eyes, and Ignis got the impression the dragon disapproved.

Eilendil blinked again and turned back to Laura. _You are getting sloppy in your meditation, Laurelín. I clipped a wing against the edge of the canopy. You placed the trees too far apart._

“Oh,” she said airily, “and I suppose it has nothing to do with the fact that you were never this large in real life? Like a father with a shotgun, you are.”

 _You may be correct. Still, I hope you have not grown sloppy in matters of the real realm as well._ He clicked an eyelid again in Ignis’s direction before saying, _Farewell, Ignis Scientia._

When Eilendil had faded, Laura turned to him with a tremulous smile. “And that was Eilendil. Are you ready for one more nice, normal, short adventure through time and space before we wake up, or would you like some time to recover first?”

He blew out a breath, chuckling and shaking his head. “Never in my life would I have thought any trip in time and space to be normal, but yes. Take us somewhere exotic, and perhaps we can finally find that pugilistic man named Moose you’re so obsessed with.”

Her answering smile was full of life as she leaned up to kiss him, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see colors swirling around them and coalescing into a bustling marketplace that seemed to stretch on forever to the horizon. He pulled back to see that each little stall was no more than a crude shelter of wood and cloth, but there were hundreds within the range of his view. The air was humid and warm, far warmer than Caem, and the air hung heavy with unfamiliar spices as the steady breeze carried the scent through the aisle.

He gazed down the row they were standing in to see hundreds of people walking, shopping, bartering, arguing, and carrying wares. But there wasn’t a single human in sight; people with tentacles, long necks, skins of all colors and textures, many appendages, no appendages, and every other type of being he had never imagined waddled, walked, slithered, crawled, and danced their way through the aisles as they went about their daily lives. The foreign sounds of a thousand languages, all of which he’d never heard before and many of which he couldn’t even reproduce with his own mouth, were nearly enough to distract him from the sight of so many unidentifiable spices, fruits, vegetables, meats, souvenirs, and Astrals only knew what else.

The row they were standing on ended with a beach, of sorts, except the sand was a deep purple and the water was a dark, shimmering turquoise. A blue-green sun was setting into the crashing waves, casting the lavender sky in an odd light.

“Well, the colors are certainly . . . something,” he remarked as casually as he could manage, as though he’d been to a thousand garishly bright planets before.

She turned toward him and held out her hand. As he took it with a grin, a slow smile spread across her face. “Come on then. Let’s explore.”


	38. Chapter 38

As much as Noct wanted to lean against the window and fall asleep while Iggy drove them through what was supposed to be a blockade, he stayed awake, casting furtive glances at his friend’s expression to make sure he was still paying attention. He’d seemed to be acting normal these last couple of days as they prepared to leave Caem, but Noct couldn’t get those first couple of days out of his head. Between the blank staring when they tried to talk to him, the random weird pieces of conversations he’d blurt out, and his suddenly terrible spatial awareness, Noct had begun to wonder if he’d been hit with a mild confusion spell and just hadn’t taken anything for it.

But true to his word, Iggy seemed to recover—went right back to cooking enough to feed an army and tending the garden with Laura, helping Dustin and Monica with chores around the house, reviewing lessons with Noct, and even teaching Talcott how to filet his first fish. That didn’t mean Noct wasn’t gonna keep a close eye on him. There was still a look in his eyes Noct couldn’t put a name to.

“This is gonna be over by where we got the Star of the Rogue, right?” Prompto asked.

“Close by,” Iggy replied. “The ruins rumored to contain the mythril we need are located on the northeastern shore of the Vesperpool.”

“Cool. The sun should still be up when we get there this time. Maybe I can get some good shots.”

“I thought the roads were supposed to be under Imperial blockade, Specs,” Noct said, remembering the radio reports from a few days ago.

Noct saw him frown in the rearview mirror. “They were, but it seems the Empire all but turned the key and left the gates open for us—as if awaiting our arrival.”

“And if anyone’s waiting for us, I bet it’s that guy,” Prompto agreed.

“Chancellor Izunia,” Iggy almost seemed to sneer.

“Can’t complain, as long as he lets us in,” Noct said with a shrug. They needed the boat to get to Altissia, and they needed the mythril to get the boat working; so as usual, they didn’t have much of a choice when it came to depending on the creep.

“Who’s to say he’ll let us out? And while we’re on the subject, we should explicitly discuss what should and should not be said in regard to this war of words he and Laura seem to be in,” Iggy said.

Prompto leaned back in the passenger seat and let his hand dangle out his open window, catching the wind with his fingers spread wide. “Uhh . . . lemme guess. There’s a new rule that says no one’s allowed to mention Laura being an alien while the weirdo’s around?”

“Among other things,” Iggy agreed. “No one is to refer to anything resembling the truth when it comes to any of our identities—as a precaution.”

Laura sighed. “If he’s waiting for us there, then he knows far too much anyway. I doubt pretending last time didn’t happen is going to do anything.”

“Still, it would be prudent.”

“Hey, you know what you should do?” Noct asked, looking over at her with a mischievous grin. “Start using your Glaive ice magic everywhere. Really drive that whole Shiva thing home and freak him out.”

But Iggy responded before she could, “Absolutely not!”

Laura shot Noct an amused smile, shaking her head. “I’ve been careful not to so much as summon a weapon while he’s near. He’d never believe the alien thing, but using any sort of magic around him would highlight what an anomaly I am.”

“You might wanna put your swords in the armiger when we get there then, just in case,” Noct said.

“And do you have a strategy for how you’ll be handling him if we see him today?” Iggy asked.

“Nope!” Laura said cheerfully. “Honestly, I sort of just pick based on the expression on his face that day. I was thinking of going more on defense though—not give him any information.”

Specs nodded up at the rearview mirror in agreement. “I should still prefer you have a more detailed plan than ‘the expression on his face,’ however.”

“Some things just can’t be planned for, Ig,” Prompto said. “Why d’ya think he’s helping us, anyway?”

“His motivations seem far from altruistic,” Ignis said. “Each time he assists us, I get the feeling of condescension more than anything from him.”  

“He keeps teasing and testing us for some reason, but I haven’t yet fathomed why,” Laura replied. “It can’t be because he’s considering giving us his chocolate factory though, so we best stay on guard.”

The Vesperpool wasn’t like any lake Noct had ever seen. Most lakes back in Insomnia were small, with even shores and some kinda statue or sprinkler spraying water in the center. They were usually surrounded by parks with white sidewalks and grass cut into diamond patterns. This lake wasn’t even like the ones they’d seen on their travels so far, with their wide expanses of blue water, wild shorelines, and even wilder animals. He hadn’t been able to tell when they’d passed by here last time in the night to visit the Tomb of the Rogue, but this water was still and black, with knobby tree roots that stuck up out of the water like corpse fingers.  Gnarled trees growing along the shore with draping plants, which Laura called moss, reminded Noct of the torn death shrouds of a reaper. Worst of all was the smell as they drew closer to the shoreline.

“Dude,” Prompto whispered as they walked along the path that lead to where the ruins were supposed to be. “Did you just rip one or somethin’?”

“No way!” Noct said, pushing him hard enough that he stumbled off the path.

“Now, now, gentlemen,” Iggy chastised. He turned to Laura and lowered his voice, though Noct could still hear him say, “Though it does smell worse than a Raxacoricofallapatorian wearing a restriction field.”

Laura took a deep breath of rotten air and looked to the water at their left. “It’s the detritus at the bottom. Not a lot of circulation, and it builds up to create gas pockets.”

“A farting lake . . . great!” Prompto complained.

“Here’s to hoping we catch a break with the wind,” Iggy said, his nostrils flaring in distaste.

“Darn tootin’!” Noct agreed.

“But look at these old ruins,” Iggy said, stopping to study a crumbling pile of rocks and a column that stood just off the trail. “This place must have been a part of the kingdom of Solheim at one point.”

“Solheim?” Laura asked. “As in sol and heim?”

“Is that significant?”

“It means ‘sun home’ in a couple of Earth languages. A civilization of sun worshippers then?” Laura asked as she examined a column.

Iggy shook his head. “They worshipped fire, and by extension, Ifrit.”

“Hmm,” Laura hummed doubtfully.

“Hey you guys, you wanna finish nerding it up back there?” Noct called to them as they fell further and further behind.

They were always doing stuff like that, stopping to examine and _talk_ about _everything._ Laura didn’t seem to care one way or another how much of a hurry they were in, but Specs was always in a hurry to move on—until he suddenly wasn’t. Sometimes, it paid off for Noct, and he’d be able to get some fishing, gaming, or sleeping in. Usually though, it was boring history lessons like this, and Noct had never been really interested in history.

“Apologies,” Iggy said as the two of them jogged to catch up.

The sooner they got this over with, the sooner they could get back to Caem and hopefully join up with Gladio. He couldn’t really put his finger on why, but he felt uneasy having them separated like this. It wasn’t like Gladio to just up and leave his duty behind. But no matter how many times Noct had asked for an explanation that night before he left, Gladio wouldn’t give him one—just kept making vague excuses about ‘business.’ But what kind of business could he possibly have outside Insomnia that would take him away like this? He was pretty sure Gladio wouldn’t just leave them all and never come back, but that nightmare of his from a few weeks ago kept cropping up. Between Iggy acting weird and Gladio leaving with seemingly no warning . . . he’d just feel better when they were all back together.

“Well, you were right, Prompto,” Laura muttered as they drew closer to the entrance to Steyliff Grove. “He’s waiting for us.”

“Hadn’t you better switch your falchions to the armiger?” Iggy asked in a low voice.

Laura shook her head. “They’re too distinctive. You’ve been preferring the delta daggers we found in the Malmalam Thicket, yeah?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“Would you mind terribly if I used your assassin’s daggers for the day?”

“In order to ensure that an immortal man infected with the scourge doesn’t discern your identity? Yes, of course.”

“Daaaaamn,” Prompto laughed, slapping Iggy on the back. “Lettin’ a girl use your blades? _That’s_ true love right there.”

“Hardly. If one were to apply that logic universally, I’d also be romantically involved with Noct,” Iggy said with a sniff. “Now kindly keep your voice down when enemies are nearby.”

“Did you just . . . call me a girl?” Noct asked in disbelief, but Iggy only put a finger to his lips. Noct and Prompto both looked over to Laura to see her reaction to Iggy’s denial, but she only glared at the familiar car parked in the middle of the dirt path ahead.

“You wanna egg it?” Prompto whispered as they passed the red and white-striped convertible.

Laura snorted and shook her head. “You honestly think he wouldn’t know who did it?”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “I guess.” But Noct noticed as they walked passed the car that he gave the front tire a little kick before skipping to catch up with them.

As they stepped off the path and squelched through the mud, Noct saw Iggy lean down to pick up a waterlogged pamphlet at the base of a boulder, and he could see the familiar Lucian almanac cover as Iggy peeled it away to reveal its pages. Not really interested in what the almanac had to say, Noct turned his eyes back to the entrance to Steyliff Grove, where he caught sight of the edge of Ardyn’s clowny-looking sleeve poking out from behind one of the two old columns guarding the entrance. He stepped around the column, however, when he heard the group approaching.

“Gentlemen! What a pleasant surprise!” Ardyn called out with a swishy wave, and they all slowed at his greeting to give Laura time to come up with a plan. But Laura didn’t slow down; her gait shortened so she was taking quick, tiny, shuffling steps right up to him.

“Ardyn! Darling! It’s _so_ good to see you here!” she oozed, and even Noct could recognize that high-class nasal accent of the extremely old, wealthy nobility from Insomnia. He’d had to spend countless hours at society parties with those self-centered airheads, listening to them talk about their pet cat Fluffy or how their youngest granddaughter had just gotten accepted into Easton Academy, and wouldn’t he just love to meet her? If Laura’s plan was to bore or frustrate Ardyn away, she’d definitely picked the right persona today.

But then again, maybe not. Laura reached Ardyn, who stood still with a smirk on his face as she approached. She placed both her hands on his shoulders, pulled him down to her level, and overdramatically kissed each of his cheeks with a loud “mwah!” sound.

The look on Ardyn’s face would’ve been worth paying admission for as she pulled back from him—even if it only lasted less than half a second—eyes widened in shock, brow furrowed in confusion, and mouth pulled down before settling back into his smirk.

“You absolute beast!” she continued, whacking him on the chest with the back of her hand. “You told me you’d wait for me in Altissia! Whatever are you doing here, of all places?”

“Why, my dear, I’m here to put in a good word for you with my Imperial friends,” he said jovially, matching her tone. “Come along, then.”

“How absolutely _smashing_ of you, darling. You’re so very thoughtful.”

“It’s no effort on my part. And surely you’d rather avoid unnecessary scuffles, seeing as you’re now a quartet . . .. Oh, dear. Touchy subject?”

It looked like Iggy was about to say something—his mouth opening and his lungs filling—but he stopped suddenly, and Laura spoke instead.

“Oh, you know how it is with bassists; they’re always running off to sow their wild oats,” she said waving a casual hand around vaguely. “But honestly, some of the best chamber music is played with a quartet, so it’s probably for the best. And what about you? How’s the family been?”

Noct had never seen Ardyn react so dramatically to anything he and Laura had said to each other before. His head whipped to hers, his eyes growing hard and his step faltering for the briefest of moments. As he schooled his features back to neutral, his eyes seemed to graze over Noct before focusing on the ruins just ahead.

“Oh, I check in on them from time to time. They’re not doing quite as well as I expected, I’m afraid.”

“What a shame,” Iggy said in mock sympathy.

“Yes, do let us know if there’s anything we can do. Chickatrice soup, perhaps?” Laura asked.

“Oh, that’s quite all right, my dear. I assure you that you’re doing quite enough for me already,” he replied, smirking with a sidelong glance at her. “Now if you’ll just wait here. Fear not—I’ll be but a moment.”

Prompto started bouncing on the balls of his feet as Ardyn approached the three people standing guard at the entrance to Steyliff and spoke to the woman standing in the middle.

“Hey!” he whispered, pointing frantically. “It’s Aranea!”

“Yeah, Prom,” Noct said as he rolled his eyes. “I can see her too."

“All clear!” Ardyn called out, waving them over. “And with that, I regretfully take my leave.” He took his douchey hat off with a flourish before bowing deeply and ambling in the direction of his car.

“But fate ordains that dearest friends must part. Fare thee well, my love. Until we meet again!” Laura cried out to him, kissing her fingertips and waving.

Ardyn stopped for a moment and turned back to them slowly, a slow grin spreading over his entire face that even seemed to make his eyes twinkle. “Oh, I’m very much looking forward to it.”

Really, whatever weirdness that went on between two immortals wasn’t even phasing him anymore. Maybe they’d been hanging out with gods and random creeps for too long.

Noct only turned away from Ardyn’s retreating back at Aranea’s interruption. “So, you’re the ‘new recruits’ they sent over for ‘special training.’ Nice cover, runaway prince.”

Noct wasn’t gonna fall for that. Did she really think they were going to give her anything when they’d just seen her talking to Ardyn?

When they all remained silent, she continued. “At ease, ‘recruits.’ There’s nothing in it for this ex-mercenary to turn you in. Let’s get this show on the road. Lucky you guys came right as the sun was setting.”

“Not luck, we’d heard rumors that the ruins were only accessible at night,” Iggy said.

“Well, you heard right. Come on.”

As she turned to lead them through the flooded courtyard and up the steps to the entrance, Noct looked up at the high stone walls and tree roots twisted in grotesque shapes that reminded him of snakes. Something about this place made him feel uneasy, but he couldn’t really identify what it was. Trying to distract himself from the feeling creeping over him, he looked over at Laura.

“How’d you know to ask him about his family?” he asked in a low voice.

Laura smirked in response. “Ask any immortal about their family—odds are you’re going to get some kind of reaction.”

“You think we’re gonna be okay going down there with her?”

She shrugged. “She doesn’t _seem_ dishonest, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to trust her. She’ll likely report all she learns to Ardyn when we leave.”

“So don’t let her at our backs and keep our mouths shut, got it.”

“What kind of place was this? Any ideas Ignis?” Prompto asked.

“There was a section of almanac I found that states this place was a mausoleum built by the Solheimians. As fire symbolized life in their culture, so water symbolized death, and they utilized the Vesperpool’s eerie nature, no doubt, to support these views.”

“A mausoleum,” he chuckled nervously. “I’ve always wanted to visit ancient dead people. Wonder what happened to the locals?”

Aranea didn’t turn around as she reached the top of the steps to the entrance, her heels clicking and echoing off the stone walls as she strode confidently through the dark corridor. “Why don’t we head inside and look for ‘em?” she asked, pointing to a flight of stairs that led down.

It grew dark and cold as they descended the steps into the ruins themselves, but it wasn’t the chill that made Noct shiver. They’d hunted plenty of daemons in caves and dark forests, but these ruins seemed older, more dangerous, than the other places they’d been to. The place reeked of rotting water and rotting flesh, and that ever-present iciness seemed to leak through his clothes into his own bones as they walked.

“Hey, who left the lights on?” Prompto asked when they’d reached the bottom of the steps, pointing to sinister-looking red lights glowing on the walls of the room they’d just entered. “Maybe the owners are still home.”

“Yes, I can feel it, too,” Iggy mused in a soft voice.

“What’s that, Ig?” Prompto asked as they passed through an arch into a nearly identical room.

“This place feels wrong,” Iggy said.

“An abomination against nature,” Laura agreed in a near-whisper.

Aranea turned back to them, an eyebrow raised. “Well, aren’t you guys just a bundle of laughs? No point bellyaching about it; just keep moving.”

The endless maze of freezing cold, dimly-lit rooms with rough-cut, uneven stone floors slowed their progress, especially since the place was crawling with daemons, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle. Noct had already known Aranea was good with her stoss spear after fighting her at Fort Vaullerey, but it was pretty cool to see her more aerial fighting style in action when it wasn’t being used against them, even if she didn’t fly around the room quite as much as he’d hoped as they battled the skeletons and reapers.

“I’m sensing a theme here,” Laura said as they finished off another group of skeletons. “This place is infested with the undead.” She walked up to the [door](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/finalfantasy/images/7/7f/Steyliff-Grove-Lightray-Door-FFXV.png/revision/latest?cb=20180625184848) that led to the next room and ran a hand over the gold rays that came to a point high above their heads and spread out again at the top of the door. Near the top, squiggly gold lines intersected where the rays came to a point. “And this isn’t a symbol for fire.”

“Oh yeah?” Prompto asked. “What is it then?”

“Looks to me like sun rays being refracted through water. Life . . . piercing through death.”

Noct nodded, but it didn’t really matter, did it? He wasn’t an archaeologist, or whatever, and they weren’t there to discover the lost secrets of Solheim. They were there to pick up the mythril and get the hell outta there. He stepped in front of her and pressed the stone in the wall that would open the door.

As it slowly rolled up into the wall with a grinding groan, Iggy said, “Given what we’ve encountered thus far, that sounds like an accurate assumpt—”

“Whoaaaa,” Prompto interrupted.

Noct walked to the railing of the balcony they’d found themselves standing on, feeling like he’d walked into a dream as he looked down over the side to see the dusty floor covered in undulating ribbons of reflected moonlight from above. The towering walls were set apart by evenly-spaced alcoves that reminded Noct eerily of catacombs. But the most ethereal feature of the room was the ceiling, which shifted with the rippling of the Vesperpool’s surface. Flashing silver fish floated in midair throughout the hall, making the place seem mystic and surreal.

“That is . . . pretty neat,” Aranea said in awe as they walked along the hallway that offered a view of the entire room. “If that’s the water’s surface . . ..”

“Wait, what? Does this mean we’re underwater?” Prompto asked, growing nervous. “Whoa. There’s even fish.”

“Yes, it’s beautiful beyond words. And yet I feel . . ..” Ignis said in a low voice.  

Laura’s voice was flat and foreboding, killing the mood a bit as she said, “Dark magic. Looks like Solheim turned dark at some point.”

Iggy nodded. “It appears as though something fishy is going on here, indeed. There are too many symbols of necromancy here for it to be a coincidence.”

“I don’t know,” Aranea said, “just looks like fish to me.”

Noct had to admit that he agreed with Aranea on this one. Sure, the place was infested with daemons now, but the almanac had said it was a mausoleum at one point. He could see this being a really elaborately decorated tomb to house the dead, even more so than those of his ancestors, but that didn’t make it dark, just a little on the creepy and morbid side.  

“Well, not even taking into account everything else we’ve seen in here—the symbols and all the undead daemons,” Laura began airily as she looked up at the ceiling, “this room alone proves it. If water symbolizes death, and we’re breathing underwater at this very moment, we become the symbol of life after death.”

“And there was the bridge that repaired itself back there,” Iggy said. “Using time magic, the magic of the gods, to reverse the moment of destruction to become whole again.”

Laura nodded. “Exactly. They’ve twisted the power of Eos to meet their own sick ends.”

“That seems like a bit of a stretch,” Noct said doubtfully.  

“Ugh. I don’t know about Solheim or anything, but can we get moving? The sooner we get what we came here for, the sooner we can leave.” Prompto said, his voice tremulous.

“Yeah, let’s keep moving,” Noct agreed.

“Took the words right outta my mouth,” Aranea said.

“Course Iggy’s gonna agree with whatever she says,” Prompto added in a whisper in Noct’s ear. “Otherwise he doesn’t get any, heh heh.”

“Right,” Noct sighed, preferring not to be reminded.

As they descended another flight of stairs and fought their way through another endless labyrinth of rooms, Iggy managed to get Aranea talking about the Empire’s purpose for their presence in this place—which was to collect daemons to use for weaponry. Although the four of them already knew about daemon weaponry, they pretended to be surprised, hoping the positive feedback would encourage her to reveal more. Noct was kinda shocked this tactic had worked, as most skilled mercenaries like Aranea were well-known for being tight-lipped, but the reasons for her willingness to talk became clearer as they neared the bridge that crossed the room.

“Something not quite right with the Empire lately,” she said.

Noct scoffed. “It’s not just lately.”

“True. Maybe it’s time I left—round up my men and hunt daemons for cash.”

“Good for you,” Laura said with a nod. “Always admire a soldier that thinks with her own brain and not just with those of her superiors.”

“Yeah, well, gotta nip the danger in the bud, and the Empire’s no exception.”

He wondered if that meant they could trust Aranea. From her remarks earlier that night, it seemed as though she didn’t trust the Chancellor any more than she trusted the Empire as a whole. It all depended on what she did with them down here in these ruins and what she did with the information when, and if, she let them leave . . . not that the four of them couldn’t handle her should it come to that.

Noct was glad someone was paying attention as they crossed the bridge, as he was too busy looking up at the shimmering water above their heads. If he concentrated, he could almost see all the way through the filter of blue to see that the sun looked like it was rising outside. He guessed it had taken them longer than he’d realized to get through that last maze.

“Watch yourself, Noct,” Iggy said, flinging a hand out to stop him walking forward, and Noct looked down to see four skeletons, two reapers, and a lich claw their way up out of the ground in their path with a blood curdling screeching sound. Damnit, he should’ve been paying attention; that was a rookie mistake.

“Looks like we’re surrounded,” Aranea remarked as Noct felt her back into him, covering him from behind, and he looked over his shoulder to see Laura do the same to Iggy and Prompto.

“What do you have over there?” Iggy asked, not tearing his eyes from the group of daemons slowly floating toward them.

“Four crème brûlées, two skeletons, and two liches. Where do those fit into your whole life and death theory?”

“Cut and run, I should think . . . only way to live,” Iggy said with a smirk, summoning his daggers.

“The liches I can understand—animated corpses brought to life to achieve immortality . . . use fire as an attack, too, right? Symbol of life and all that. But the crème brûlées—I’m just thinking someone was on drugs,” Laura said.

“They absorb fire, if that helps,” Iggy said, flipping a dagger in his hand and tossing it casually by the point into the skull of a skeleton that was getting too close. He summoned the blade back to his hand and stood at the ready again.

“Are you guys always like this?” Aranea asked.

“Like what?” Laura asked. “All Robert Langdon mixed with Indiana Jones?”

“It’s only getting wors—“ Prompto began, but Iggy cut him off.

“All right, plan of attack—”

Laura interrupted him. “What do you say, Aranea? Boys versus girls? First team to finish wins?”

“But you guys are one girl down,” Prompto pointed out.

Aranea chuckled. “Please. From where I’m standing, you boys are the ones at a disadvantage. But what do we get when we win?”

“I dunno, bragging rights?” Noct said.

“Heh, think I’ve already earned the right to brag, but all right. Let’s do this,” Aranea said.

“Take out the skeletons first, Noct,” Iggy said in a rush. “They’re faster and there are more of them. Prompto, hang back and work on the liches and reapers. Ice on the liches, fire on the reapers.”

“You got it, Ig,” Prompto said, but Iggy had already summoned his polearm and had flipped off to start on the skeletons. Noct jumped in the air with a flip and warp-struck down onto the nearest skeleton, using his blade to crack through its ribs before slashing at the delicate vertebrae of its neck. The second it had crumbled into a pile of bones and miasma, he threw his sword to the next one, warp-striking again once it had hit its mark.

Iggy’s strategy sort of fell apart after a while as Noct rolled across the stone floor to find his next target, which ended up being a crème brûlée, in front of him. He cast a quick glance at the battle area to find everyone still standing and working, but all the daemons had shifted and mixed together as the team took them apart from the outside.

“Aww, yeah, baby! Getta taste of these guns,” Prompto laughed as a reaper fell to one of his shots.

Stabbing violently at the puddle of mushy goo in front of him, Noct’s eyes flitted over to Iggy, who was holding his own pretty well against a lich. All this practical experience since they’d left Insomnia had clearly paid off for him—even more than the others. Looking back on today, Noct couldn’t even remember when he’d had to take a potion; he was definitely reacting faster during combat and getting injured less as a result, and it was about time. He also seemed to be leaving Noct at least a little more to his own devices, so hopefully that meant he was starting to trust Noct to at least handle himself some.

That didn’t mean Iggy wasn’t constantly keeping an eye on him though, apparently. As Noct was about to spin and swipe his sword across the middle of a reaper he saw advancing on him out of the corner of his eye, Specs flitted past to bury a dagger into where its brain should’ve been.

“No time for a coffee break,” Iggy quipped.

“Thanks, Specs.”

Aranea shuffled up to Iggy, gesturing to the reaper as he summoned his dagger back to his hand. “Mind if I finish this one off?” she asked with a sly smile.

“No, but I’m loath to make a lady bloody her own hands,” he replied, smirking at her.

“Not sure what that’s supposed to say about me then,” Laura muttered as she tossed a dagger at their last skeleton before jumping up to kick a lich in the face.

“Ha!” Prompto guffawed, pointing his pistol over his shoulder and shooting at the skeleton, finishing it off. “I’d pay money to see what you’d do to him if he ever tried calling you a lady! Last time he tried to keep you out of a battle, you roasted him one!”

“We all in one piece?” Aranea asked when the last daemon had melted into the stone.

“Yeah. Who won?” Prompto asked.

“Sorry, shortcake,” Aranea said, shaking her head. “Looks like I still got the right to brag.”

No one said another word as they crossed the bridge and made their way through yet another hall of rooms, another maze of daemons—until they reached the floor of the water room, where Prompto broke their silent streak.

“There’s sooo gonna be a big nasty here.”

“Way to jinx it, Prom,” Noct said, chuckling, but he was hoping Prompto would be wrong, unlikely as it was. They’d been in this cold creepy place all night, and he was long past ready to flop onto a nice, soft bed. Even a hot shower would’ve been good right about now to soothe his aching back and wash the gritty dirt and sticky cobwebs he kept trying to brush off, to no avail.

At Noct’s words, a thunderous roar sounded from the bridge they’d crossed earlier, its resonant pitch echoing off the high stone walls and traveling down the many hallways and alcoves, making the sound seem to go on forever.

The creature responsible for the roar was huge, of course—covered in bright blue scales that glittered in the light from above, making it look like a living sapphire. Streaks of scarlet scales ran through the spines of its wings, which were so large they seemed to double the size of the thing. Noct had never seen a daemon like it, but it sort of looked like a cross between a seadevil, a bird, and a fish.

“That’s not a daemon. What the hell is that thing?” Aranea asked.

“Oh my gods,” Laura breathed, her face growing pale as she clutched at the pendant around her neck. “It’s a dragon.”

Noct had never heard of a dragon, so he looked to Iggy, who was shooting some kinda meaningful look at Laura. He held her gaze for a moment before turning to Noct.

“It’s a quetzalcoatl, weak to polearms, daggers, and ice. It attacks from above and uses lightning as a primary means for defense—besides the claws and teeth, of course.”

“The Aztec god of wisdom associated with dawn,” Laura muttered, shaking her head, but she was still pale and gripping her necklace like a lifeline. “This place isn’t half subtle with names taken from ancient civilizations, but I’d like to officially call bullshit on Solheim being fire worshippers now.”

“It’s an animal though, right?” Noct asked, hoping the question was obvious enough she’d understand its real meaning without letting Aranea on to the fact that Laura had her eccentric animal thing.

She nodded. “You’ll need my help for this one though,” she said, her face growing whiter as she closed her eyes. “Be sure t—to aim for the wings and—" she took a deep breath, “once it’s grounded, attack just below the left armpit—where the h—h—heart is.”

What was her problem? It wasn’t like she hadn’t killed animals before—hundreds of them during that week they had to walk to Wiz’s. She almost seemed to be shaking as she stared wide-eyed up at the creature on the bridge. So much for not showing any weakness in front of Aranea. If she did report back to Ardyn, he was gonna find out that Laura was terrified of killing quetzalcoatls.

Iggy seemed to stare her down for a moment, passing on some kinda hidden message with his eyes, but she shook her head a little and stared back up at the quetzalcoatl.

“Come on, enough analyzing,” Noct said, summoning his ice spear. “Let’s get this over with.”

The quetzalcoatl slowly raised its enormous wings and flapped, making the air around them vibrate with deep drum beats as it ascended to hover over them before swooping over their heads. It landed on the ground behind them, digging its massive claws into the stone and letting loose another mighty, echoing roar. Then it gathered itself to run through them, its nails scratching and screeching against the rock, its serpentine neck tossing and wriggling from side to side as it shrieked and snapped at them.

As the creature hurtled through their party, the five of them surrounded the quetzalcoatl on both sides and stabbed at its neck, wings, ribs, and tail. Aranea took to the air to land on its back, burying the tip of her lance deep into the base of its neck. The creature reared back, screaming in pain and shaking Aranea hard before they both rose into the air again.

“Remember to aim for the wings!” Iggy called out to them all.

“Absolutely no prob!” Prompto responded, alternating shots between his left and right pistols as he aimed for a different wing with each hand.

“Nice goin’, Prom,” Noct said before warping up to the animal. It was too dangerous for him to aim for the flapping wings, so he did his best to aim for the heart and the rest of its body as it lunged in an attempt to grasp him from the air while aiming lightning strikes at the party below. It seemed to follow Noct back to the ground as he landed—vicious and swift as it swooped down over them, aiming more balls of lightning that exploded the stone with glowing blue bolts, electrocuting them all.

“Hey Four-Eyes, you gonna turn this around or what?” Aranea asked, bumping Iggy’s shoulder with hers and smirking, but her face was starting to look a little haggard from the battle.

Iggy frowned and tossed another dagger at the wing on the opposite side of the quetzalcoatl that Laura was executing a warp-strike on.

“Would I were only able.”

Noct couldn’t take any more after the third time the electricity arced through his body, setting his nerves on fire and making him shake with pain. From the looks of things, the entire group was in bad condition, including Laura, who didn’t seem to be handling the battle with her usual skill. He hoped she wasn’t playing some sort of game for Aranea’s sake like she’d done with Ravus. But it didn’t matter what was going on right now because they all needed medical attention.

“Iggy, call ‘em together!”

“Everyone, regroup!” Iggy responded, and the four of them rushed to his side to recover. Noct looked over in time to see Laura’s eyes widen briefly in surprise as Iggy’s blue-green healing sparkles covered her body before she reached out to quickly squeeze his hand.

It was Ignis who dealt the final blows to the beast. Drawing his arm back with his own ice spear in hand, he ran three steps closer to it, leaning forward as he hurled the weapon true to where Laura had instructed and immediately followed the blow with an ice spell. The quetzalcoatl let out one final ear-splitting howl before falling hard on the ground, almost sending Noct to his knees with the vibration traveling up the bones in his legs.

But he was no longer paying attention to the quetzalcoatl because Iggy actually did drop to his knees before hitting the ground hard, his face draining of color as he clutched at his heart.

“Ignis!” Noct cried out, rushing to his side and trying to push aside those images of him lying dead just outside the glacial grotto. His eyes were closed and his face as pale as death, but he appeared to still be breathing. Noct summoned a hi-potion to crack over his chest, but it had no effect. What was wrong with him? Noct hadn’t even seen anything hit him.

“Oh, man, what’s wrong with him?” Prompto asked.

“I don’t know!” Noct growled in frustration.

Gladio and Iggy were the ones who always did most of the medical stuff, and with Gladio gone and Specs the one inexplicably injured . . . that only left Laura. He looked up, searching for what could possibly be taking her so long to get here, and he found her several feet away on all fours—heaving on the ground as Aranea leaned over her. Great, so she was doing her weird post-animal killing thing that she only seemed to do sometimes while Iggy could be here dying.

Noct placed two fingers to his neck to check his pulse, but leapt back in shock when Iggy gasped violently, his eyes going wide.

“Hey, Ig,” Prompto said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

He was still pale and clutching a hand to his heart, but his voice sounded okay as he said, “I believe I’m all right. A touch of dizziness, that’s all.”

“Uh, you sure? You were kinda passed out there for a sec.”

Laura finally rushed over to Iggy’s side as he was sitting up. She kneeled on the ground next to him, placing a hand on his other shoulder.

“Are you all right? I’m so sorry,” she said in a low voice so that Aranea couldn’t hear from where she was slowly walking toward them. “You _should_ have said something sooner!”

“I’m . . . just gonna go and pick up the mythril now that everything’s okay,” Prompto said, pointing to where the ore sat innocently under the bridge. “Be right back.”

Iggy nodded to Laura, and Noct offered a hand to help him up. He seemed to teeter on his feet for a moment before steadying, his eyes still overly wide and his face still pale.

“What just happened?” Noct asked.

Iggy pulled his jacket straight and adjusted his glasses on his nose. “Apologies, a miscalculation on my part. I won’t allow it to interfere with my duties again.”

How long was it gonna take him to get it through his thick skull that his duty was second to his life?

“To hell with duty, Specs! I just wanna know you’re okay!”

Iggy nodded once sharply, and Noct realized he wouldn’t answer now that Aranea had neared them.

“Hey,” Aranea said, placing a hand on Ignis’s chest and looking into his face. “You don’t look so good. Wanna get outta here and get some air?”

“Got it!” Prompto said, coming up beside Noct and handing him the ore.

Prompto looked over at Iggy, who was looking down at Aranea’s hand on his chest, his brow furrowed. Noct and Prompto both turned their heads to see Laura’s reaction, but she only had eyes for the corpse behind them.

“I can’t even bury him with Aranea here,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Laura,” Prompto said as he put a hand on her shoulder and smiled softly. “Think of this place as one big, beautiful tomb for it.”

Laura picked his hand up off her shoulder and ducked under his arm, leaning into his side as he wrapped his hand around her bicep.

“You’re sweet. Thanks for trying, Prom,” she said with a sigh.

Noct, Prompto, and Laura followed behind Aranea, who led Iggy up to the surface by his elbow. Noct and Prompto both kept looking at Laura for any sign of jealousy, but she wasn’t even paying them any attention, still leaning into Prompto’s side and seemingly lost in thought.

By the time they left the eerie entrance with the twisted tree roots, Specs was looking much better—the color coming back to his cheeks and his gait growing stronger as they sloshed through the flooded entrance to higher ground. His phone rang, and he took it out of his pocket to check the screen before holding up a finger and walking away from the group so he could take the call undisturbed.

“Before I forget,” Aranea began, “His Excellency instructed me to give you boys a ride back. If you need a lift, feel free to hop on.”

Though Noct suspected Aranea was nothing like Ardyn, he’d learned his lesson about getting in Magitek engines with people he didn’t know. He wasn’t really feeling up to living through another week of hell, thanks.

“I think we got it. Thanks though.”

Aranea shrugged, “Whatever floats your boat, besides mythril, that is.”

“Aww man, so we’re camping here today?” Prompto complained as Aranea turned and walked away.

“Can’t ask Iggy to drive after being up all night and whatever the hell that was back there,” Noct answered.

Laura looked over at him. “Don’t worry about Ignis. We can stop at the haven to change, if you want. But then you guys can sleep, and I’ll do the driving—wherever we need to go.”

“Which appears to be Lestallum,” Iggy said quietly as he rejoined them. “I’ve just received word from Cindy. Her friend works as an engineer at the power plant, and she’ll refine the mythril to suit our needs.”

“Uh huh, and that’ll take care of our boat problem. Perfect!” Prompto said with a smile. “Let’s head to the haven then. I’m ready for a dry pair of boots before my nap!”

It was kind of weird having Laura drive the car, but unsurprisingly, she handled the Regalia just as smoothly as Iggy always did. Noct noticed that even Specs was able to settle back into the passenger seat and relax a little, something he never did when any of the rest of them were driving.

“What do you suppose the Chancellor’s role was in all of this?” Iggy asked no one in particular.

“I don’t know,” Laura replied. “The only thing we got from him was Aranea, so he was likely using her as a spy. She knew exactly why we were there. But was there more to it than that? Was he trying to make some connection to him and the secrets of that dungeon?”

“But the ruins are too old to have anything to do with Niflheim. What could they possibly have to do with our quest today? Though I suppose he may be old enough to have been involved in Solheim’s darker work himself.”

“Maybe that’s how he achieved immortality himself—in Solheim. Or maybe he’s trying to make some parallel connection to modern times. Noct, were there any factions that you know of in Lucis that were secretly dark?”

Ignis scoffed. “Please. If you’re going to ask anyone in this car that question, it would be me. I’m the one who attended all his meetings. But no, there were no factions that I know of that dabbled in necromancy or anything of the sort.”

“Hey, I went to some of the meetings,” Noct protested. “They were just so boring.”

“Indeed you did, Highness,” Ignis replied indulgently, and Noct smiled a little at his friend’s support.

“Perhaps this is some kind of hint then to let us know what the Empire is secretly up to. If they’re harvesting daemons to make weapons like Aranea said, necromancy isn’t far off,” Laura said.

“We’ve no way of knowing until we have more information, I’m afraid,” Iggy said.

“You guys ever think you think too much?” Prompto asked.

Iggy turned his head toward Laura, and Noct could just make out a little smile on the corner of his lips.

“Sometimes. But it’s usually preferable to the alternative. However, sometimes . . . I think I enjoy not thinking. I can see why you prefer it.”

“Mee-ow!” Prompto said, leaning forward to hit Iggy on both shoulders with each syllable. “Iggy’s feeling sassy today. Must be all that attention from Aranea.”

“Yeah, Specs, think you got yourself a new admirer,” Noct said with a laugh.

Prompto waggled his eyebrows and sang, “Looks like Laura’s got some competitionnnnn.”

Iggy huffed. “I’m inclined to disagree.”

“Yep, it’s true; she had a bit of a thing there,” Laura agreed.

“And you’re . . . okay with that?” Prompto asked.

No matter how many times Noct thought about it, he just didn’t get the whole friends with benefits thing Laura and Iggy had going on. They seemed to care about each other just as much as they cared about the rest of the group, but then they’d go off pretty much every morning and do their thing and then not care if they did it with other people? Laura, he could understand. Specs was probably just a kid to have a good time with. But Iggy? Maybe the rest of Insomnia would’ve thought that kind of detached relationship was perfect for him because everyone thought of him as cold, but Noct just didn’t figure him for the type only interested in getting laid—or he would’ve done it before now. He guessed he’d been wrong though.

“Eh, whatever,” Laura said, shrugging a shoulder. “It’s a point in her favor; she has good taste. Except in battle armor. I get it’s good for flying, but all it takes is for someone to grab those things from behind in a battle and snap her neck or pull her to the ground.”

“Is that why you took the cape off your Glaive uniform?” Prompto asked.

“Yeah. Honestly, how do you expect women to move on the battlefield if you’re attaching bedsheets to their backs? It’s not worth the impressive silhouette it provides. I’m sure it looks sexy and all, but I would rather be alive and hideous than dead and sexy any day.”

“Heh heh. And what about dead sexy?” Prompto asked.

Losing interest in the conversation, Noct leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again at the sound of the pitch of the engine decreasing, seemingly a minute later, the sun was setting as Laura slowed to pull into the gas station at Lestallum.

“How fast did you drive to get us here this quick?” he asked.  

She shrugged as she got out of the car to refuel. “Fast enough. After Ignis fell asleep, I didn’t have to worry about anyone shrieking in my ear to slow down.”

“It appears Cindy has given Holly my number,” Ignis said, ignoring the implied insult and looking at his phone. “There’s an issue with daemons in the power plant. It seems we need to handle the situation while she refines the mythril.”  

“Well then, let’s park the car and do it,” Noct said.

***

Noct wasn’t particularly surprised when he and ‘the hunter’ stepped outside, and ‘the hunter’ took off his thermal suit helmet to reveal that Gladio had been the one helping him kill the daemons infesting the power plant.

“Did you really expect some kinda big reveal?” Noct asked, laughing. “Not like I haven’t heard that voice since I was a kid or anything.”

But he was really, really glad to see Gladio—alive and back and (mostly) whole. He didn’t even complain or pull away when Gladio cuffed him around the neck and rubbed a fist through his hair.

“I dunno,” Gladio said as he let him go and unzipped his suit. “Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that head of yours—if anything.”

“I got a few surprises in me,” Noct said, stepping out of his suit and draping it over the gate at the entrance to the plant.

Holly approached them, waving with a smile. “Great work in there! And as promised, here’s your mythril.”

“Thanks,” Noct said, taking the mythril bar from her with a nod.

He heard the pounding of galloping feet echoing across the courtyard and looked up to see Prompto skipping up to them, a bright smile on his face. Iggy and Laura followed up the rear at a slower pace, Laura with a grin to match Prompto’s and Iggy with his lips quirked up a little. No one seemed surprised to see Gladio with him, and it took him a second to realize that Laura had probably figured it out while they were daemon hunting inside and told the others.

“Hey, Big Guy!” Prompto cried out, leaping up to Gladio and slapping him hard on the back.

“The one and only!”

“Good to have you back,” Iggy said smoothly as he and Laura approached.

Laura walked up to Gladio and seemed to stare up into his eyes for a moment, searching his face and no doubt taking note of the new scar across his forehead. She looked down at his chest and ran her fingertips gently over the still angry-looking, ropey scar slashed from his pecs to his abs.

“Whoa, someone did a number on you,” Prompto said, pointing.

Gladio looked up from watching Laura and smiled smugly, “You should see the other guy. Anyway, I’m back and better than ever.”

“You’re a fracking idiot,” she said sternly before jumping up and throwing her arms around his neck. Gladio spun her in a circle, kissing her on the cheek with a laugh, and Noct had to step back so he didn’t get kicked by her feet flying up behind her with the movement.

“Yeah, well, can’t let you guys have the corner market on that shit.” He grinned as he put her down. Gladio looked up and waved to someone across the courtyard, and Noct turned to spot Iris and Dustin heading towards them.

“I’m going to make you an offer, but you don’t have to take me up on it if you don’t want to,” Laura said.

“You’ve got my attention, Princess,” Gladio said, leering and waggling his eyebrows.

“I can heal those scars for you. Even your old one, now that I think of it. Or not. I know some people like to keep them.”

But Gladio was shaking his head before she’d even finished. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m good. Not giving these up for anything.”

“All right, just thought I’d ask.”

“Noct? Gladdy?! I can’t believe it!” Iris giggled, jumping up and down in excitement, and Noct backed away a little in case she tried to hug him. He liked Iris as a friend and all, but he wasn’t completely blind. He knew she’d had a thing for him for years now, but she was so young—only just about to start Tenth Year—and even more dangerously . . . Gladio’s sister. He had to be careful handling rejecting her too, or he’d probably get a fist in his face, Prince or not. Noct found it easier to just avoid her advances as much as possible.

“So! You guys got your hands on some mythril? In that case, I’ll go deliver it to Cid. Come meet me in Caem when you’re ready!” Iris took the mythril from him and gave him a little wave. “See you later, Noct!”

“So what are we gonna do now?” Prompto asked after they’d left.

“There are still two more Royal Tombs we need to visit before we can depart,” Iggy said, “the Tomb of the Tall near Kettier Highland and the Tomb of the Fierce, which Jared’s diary tells us lies at the top of the Rock of Ravatogh.”

“Ooooh! Can we go to Ravatogh first Noct? We can get those photos Vyv wants!” Prompto said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Noct shrugged. “We should probably stop by Costlemark Tower after the Tomb of the Tall and pick up that emerald Dino wanted last time we were in Galdin, too.”

Prompto punched a fist into the air. “Yessss! Fame and fortune, here I come!”

“Hold on there, pipsqueak,” Gladio said. “Some of us have been out killin’ shit all night. Sleep first.”

“Agreed,” Iggy said with a nod. “We’ll leave in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, some off-screen tomb raiding happened here, and I'm told that it would have been impossible for them to get to that area in the game before. Guess what? I did it anyway for pacing purposes. I know I also mentioned the self-repairing bridge before they would have seen it in the game...and again, deliberate for pacing purposes.
> 
> Some of the interpretation of this dungeon is my own work, but most of it is from the same source as the Solheim history from the Ardyn chapter. I'll post a link to his work when there are no more spoilers to reveal...in the Pitioss chapter.


	39. Chapter 39

The grassy forest gave way to gravel and boulders as Iggy drove along the winding road leading to Ravatogh, and Prompto tried to get as many shots as he could when their angle between the formation and the mountains gave them a decent view. As they drew closer, Laura narrowed her eyes, staring at the mountain intently before getting on her knees to lean over Noct and get a closer look.

“I’ve always wondered about the shape of that thing,” she said. “Any idea of the history behind it?”

“Here we go again,” Noct muttered, rolling his eyes.

Iggy shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know. Perhaps we can obtain some information at the outpost when we arrive.”

“Is there a history of people going up there and . . . surviving?” she asked hesitantly.

Prompto always hated it when Laura used that tone of voice. It usually meant that something really, really bad was gonna happen, and after Steyliff, he’d been hoping for a nice hike, some good shots, and a fat paycheck from Vyv. He guessed he should’ve known better by now, what with a tomb being up there and all. Seemed like bad stuff always happened when they got Royal Arms.

“My dad must’ve gone up there for the tomb, and Vyv said he and Oric went up there once,” Noct said.

She tilted her head, looking doubtfully up at the Rock. “And people live out here, right? There’s an outpost and everything. Does the place have a higher-than-normal reputation for people going missing?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” Ignis said.

Gladio turned around in the front seat, peering back at her with a frown. “What’s on your mind, Princess?”

She shook her head as she sat back down in her seat, still staring up at the rock looming above them. “I couldn’t see it until we got closer, but there in the smoke . . . that mountain is leaking Starscourge.”

Oh, man, he knew it. Just when they’d gotten an assignment that made him the important one, they were all gonna kill themselves or turn into daemons on some crazy misadventure. He closed his eyes and collapsed into the door while the others cursed and exclaimed their surprise at her news.

“Maybe we’re still too far for your eyes to see it. Can you make out the purplish-black particles in the air mixed with the grey smoke? It’s what’s making the smoke seem darker than it should. I’d always wondered about that when we drove by, but we were always too far away for me to see it.”

“So does this mean we’re all gonna get infected if we go up there?” Prompto asked.

“Based on what you guys just told me, I’d say the chances are slim, but then again, it’s not like any of us are safe from the scourge anywhere if we don’t know how it’s passed on.”

“Yeah, that’s encouraging. Thanks Laura,” Prompto said with a nod. “Just when I thought we could go on a nice, easy adventure with me as the hero for once . . ..” He chuckled weakly.

When they arrived at Verinas Mart, Prompto stuck with Gladio, browsing the shelves and fighting the urge to try a dozen Ravatoghian hot spring eggs while Iggy spoke with the clerk about selling some of the hides and horns they’d gotten from their hunts—and probably picking up one of the Iron Shelf books he’d been collecting on their journey so far. Iggy was always good about saving their stuff until they were far from the region they’d gotten it from to get more gil when he sold it. From the sound of it, he was trying to offload some of their stuff from Leide; he had a sharp head fin in his hand that he was showing to the clerk.

Noct had stayed outside to check out the food stall and talk to the vendor about hunts they could pick up in the area. Prompto wished they didn’t have to stay long enough to take any hunts at all, after what Laura had said about the mountain leaking Starscourge, but Iggy seemed to think it was safe enough to do a couple and save money for Altissia. Still—the sooner they left this place, the better.

Prompto looked around the little shop, which was surprisingly crowded for its size, but he didn’t spot Laura; she must’ve stayed outside with Noct.

A clatter from the clerk’s desk sounded over the buzz of all the chattering people, and Gladio and Prompto looked over to see that Ignis had dropped the fin on the counter. He seemed to be staring past the clerk, his eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?” Iggy demanded.

“I—nothing, sir,” said the clerk, turning to look behind him to see what Iggy was reacting to.

He shook his head. “Apologies. I wasn’t speaking to you. 1,900 gil should be adequate. Thank you.” Once the clerk handed him the money, Iggy rushed out the door, gently shouldering his way through the crowd with several mutterings of “pardon me.”

“What happened with him while I was gone?” Gladio asked in a low voice. “He’s not as bad as the day at the beach, but he’s had this look in his eyes—and now whatever the hell that just was.”

“You shoulda seen him the day after you left. He was doing stuff like that all the time; he’s almost normal now though,” Prompto said from behind his hand. Then he slapped lightly at Gladio’s shoulder and motioned for him to follow. “Let’s go see where he went.”

They sidled behind the food cart, and he gave Noct a little wave and a nod as he and Gladio stopped out of sight behind the pillar, where they could see Iggy and Laura standing on the other side of the Regalia.  

“We agreed to cut it off for the hunts, and I understand that logic. What I don’t understand is why you’re cutting me off now,” Iggy was saying to Laura, his voice sounding frustrated.

“Because whatever this is, it’s painful enough to distract me. And if it’s distracting me, it’s going to distract you,” she replied. “You know as well as I do that it won’t do either of us any good if we get ourselves killed.”

“Yes, I suppose,” he said with a sigh. “Being cut off isn’t a particularly pleasant experience either.”

“Which is why I waited this long. It’s not like I’m gone. You can still feel me, yeah?”

Iggy closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded.

Gladio tugged on Prompto’s arm and pulled him back to the shop entrance, past Noct, who was speaking to the cart vendor and probably pretending like he hadn’t heard anything.

“I think we’ve heard too much. Give ‘em their privacy,” Gladio said in a low voice.

But Prompto couldn’t help it. Something had been going on with Iggy for like a week now, and this was the first time he’d ever seen him and Laura discussing anything privately.

“Cut off from what? Do you think . . .? You don’t think they’re talking about _sex_ do you?”

Gladio shook his head, the corners of his mouth tugging down in disapproval. “Why’s everything gotta be about sex with you? This is why we shouldn’t’ve been eavesdropping. I’ve already heard way more than I wanted to. Not gonna sit here and speculate on it.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. TMI, and all,” he mumbled, starting to feel a little guilty about prying. But their relationship was just so weird and so private—not to mention the only source of nice and safe drama on the road. He _wanted_ them to be together, skipping through fields of flowers, happy and in love, and he’d been curious about finding evidence of them hiding some kinda whirlwind romance. No such luck so far though. No one would even know they were together if it weren’t for the fake sparring matches.

Noct turned to them when he’d finished with the cart vendor. “Got three hunts in the area.”

“We should hit those first,” Gladio said. “We’re all gonna be wiped after the Rock.”

Noct nodded. “I’ll call the chocobos while you get Specs and Laura.”

Prompto repeated the plan to Iggy and Laura as he led them to where Noct was waiting with the chocobos, and Iggy estimated there would be just enough time to get a picture of the cave Vyv wanted and get to the haven by nightfall before heading to the tomb the next morning. The hunts ended up being pretty easy, so they were running on Iggy’s schedule as they collected their bounties, got back in the Regalia, and parked at the base of the Rock.

Laura looked up at the formation as they hiked to the entrance, her eyes darting back and forth over the plume of smoke and the glowing red branches extending out from the top.

“I found another almanac entry over by the gas station while you all were shopping,” she said.

 “Oh yeah? What’d it say?” Prompto asked.

He had to admit he didn’t really care about the history thing she and Iggy shared, but he liked the way her eyes would light up and how she would talk faster when he showed interest. Both she and Iggy seemed really happy when he asked questions about the stuff they made remarks on, and since they always showed interest in his pictures by helping him with shots or being patient while he asked for different poses, he figured it was the least he could do.

“Legend says the body of Ifrit lies buried deep within the heart of the volcano.”

Noct nodded. “Explains the shape. Always thought those tree branch things kinda look like his horns. I remember from the pictures in the cosmogony book Luna gave me.”

“So does that mean Ifrit’s burning corpse is the source of all the Starscourge on Eos?” Gladio asked.

“It’s possible,” Ignis mused. “It’s well-known that Ifrit turned on the others during the War of the Astrals, but official sources are unclear as to why. There are vague references to Ifrit turning on Solheim for some unnamed sin and the other five fighting against him to save humanity.”

“Maybe cause of that necromancy stuff we found in the Vesperpool,” Prompto cut in before Iggy could get there himself. It was rare he had the opportunity to be useful in one of these conversations, and he was gonna take advantage of any opening he could get.

“That’s definitely a possibility, Prom, and Ifrit being the source of the scourge on the planet also, but it doesn’t explain how he got infected in the first place,” Laura said.

Iggy kicked casually at a rock before looking up, where Ravatogh was obscured by a layered, pitted cliff face. “Perhaps we’ll glean more information while at the summit.”

Prompto didn’t know much about nature besides what he found pretty enough to take a picture of, but he remembered his Eosian Science classes in school well enough to tell that the rippling floors of flat rock they were walking on had probably once been lava. As the space between the steep cliffs grew narrower and Prompto’s trigger fingers started itching at being in the confined space, he began feeling grateful for the sure footing as the path inclined enough to make even him breathless. He’d gotten to the point where he could run for hours without stopping, but it wasn’t like there were too many opportunities to practice uphill running like this back home.

Laura hung back near Prompto as Noct finally got tired enough to slow down a little. “Hey,” she said with a smile, “mind if I hang out with you today? Anything we run across isn’t likely to be a daemon.”

He liked days like this when Laura stayed with him. It got kind of lonely, trailing in back so he could be far enough away to take shots when the fights started, and sometimes it made him feel a little vulnerable to attack from behind. Not only was she nice to hang out with, he also felt that little bit of extra security to have backup should he need it. But when it came to the group battles, it seemed like they were starting to get good enough to not even need her as a safety net.

Herds of spiracorns and saphyrtails roamed the narrow trails, lunging for the group viciously the moment they came into view from behind a boulder. With each assault, Prompto would surge forward, summoning a pistol or the circular saw Cid had helped him upgrade while they were in Caem, while Laura hung back and kept an eye on their backs.

As Noct drove his sword into the ribs of the last spiracorn in the area, Prompto took his place next to her again as they jogged after the others. Prompto had to stop for a second in awe and dread, however, as Noct, Gladio, and Iggy left the sure footing of the rock and strode purposefully onto what looked like fine, slippery sugar. Their progress slowed drastically as the incline of the hill became ridiculous, and from his vantage point, Prompto could see the long, impossible climb they had ahead of them.

“Whoa,” he said quietly to Laura as they stepped onto the sand together. “It’s like walking up a slippery slide. And it might go on forever!”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, dragging her feet a little. “Looks like it’s gonna be a fun day.”

The climb was one of the most horrible hikes Prompto could ever remember being on, and that included the rush from the mines in Keycatrich all those weeks ago and that time Gladio had to carry Laura’s unconscious body to the car. It wasn’t just steep; it was practically vertical, and as they ascended higher and the ground over the cliff to their left got farther away, that slippery sand made it more likely they would fall to their deaths the first time they put their feet somewhere wrong. Since Prompto wasn’t in the mood to die today, he kept it slow, for once not really caring how fast the others were going, and Laura stayed right next to him, digging her feet into the sand before shifting her weight up to calculate her next step. They all needed to stop on each flat outcropping of rock they could find to catch their breath, and Prompto would lean over with his hands on his knees until he felt like the world had stopped spinning.

“Man, I can’t believe Vyv ever thought he could make it up here himself,” Prompto said as he recovered on what looked like was gonna be their last break before the top. “This climb’s a beast! He musta been insane for coming here alone all those years ago.”

“Yes, it was fortunate he was found before he succumbed to the elements,” Ignis said.

“Hey, Princess, you all right over there?” Gladio asked.

Prompto turned to Laura, who had been oddly silent since they started the climb. He’d noticed as they’d walked together that she hadn’t been her normal cheery self, and he wondered if it had anything to do with cutting Iggy off from whatever it was. Even though the rest of them had already caught their breaths for this break, and it looked like Noct was about ready to head up again, Laura was still panting, bent over with her hands on her knees and her mouth open as her body heaved with the effort. That was pretty weird. She didn’t really get out of breath as often as the rest of them, and when she did, she was usually the first to recover.

“Yeah, just fine, babe,” she wheezed. “Probably just been sitting in that car too long. Getting out of shape.”

“Or maybe you’re just gettin’ old. You ever think of that?” Noct teased.

She barked out a weak laugh. “Think I passed the point of old a long time ago, but I’ll admit it’s a possibility.”

“Come on. We got, what? Forty more feet? It’ll be better knowing we won’t have to start back up again,” he said, patting her arm and stepping up off the landing.

As Gladio turned to follow, Iggy stopped for a moment and inclined his head to look at Laura intensely. “Are you all right?”

She tried to give him one of her crazy grins, but even Prompto wasn’t falling for it, as she couldn’t even close her teeth all the way. “I’m always all right. Go on. I’m coming.”

“Stay close to me, okay?” Prompto said to her as they started up again, and she nodded in response.

They didn’t have that much farther to go, but she had slowed down so much as she tried to get enough air. The other three had already made it to the top and were watching them climb the last few feet. Prompto wished he could speed up and just take the last few steps to get it over with, but he stayed back with her as she labored her way up.

They were so close, almost close enough to reach out and grab Gladio’s and Iggy’s outstretched hands, when Laura disappeared without a sound out of the corner of his eye.

“LAURA!” he yelled, trying to reach a hand back to grab for her, but she was already gone. The sudden shift of his body weight to his back foot caused the silky sand to gather and slip beneath him, and he would’ve tumbled after her had Gladio not grabbed a fistful of his vest at the back of his neck and hauled him up.  

“ROSE!” Prompto heard Iggy shout, and as Prompto’s feet hit solid ground, he looked over to see Iggy’s terrified face before turning to see what had happened to Laura.

Prompto felt like shit as they all watched her slide down the embankment, gaining speed as her nails failed to make purchase in the slippery sand. Six, she’d been right there next to him; he should’ve caught her before she fell. He’d known she was having a rough time; he should’ve been paying more attention. And _oh gods,_ she was so close to the edge as she kept sliding. He could see her left leg hang over the cliff for a second as she attempted to curl her body around the rockier edge, but she’d gained too much momentum for it to slow her down much. She seemed to slide forever until she suddenly stopped short—her right foot finally catching on the landing they’d just left.

“Six damn,” Noct muttered.

“Hey, are you all right down there?” Gladio called to her.

“Fine. Just slipped.” Her voice sounded small to Prompto, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the distance.

“I’m so sorry you guys,” Prompto told them, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing. They all probably knew it was his fault anyway, so he might as well apologize for it.

“No, Prompto,” Iggy said in a harsh tone, still staring down the hill. “She would have taken you down with her, and one of you would have most certainly ended up over the side had you fallen together.”

Noct turned to Iggy. “I could warp down there and climb back up here with her.”

Ignis shook his head. “Inadvisable. Even if you managed to land precisely on the rock without toppling over yourself, you may knock her off balance. If you’ll all please give me a moment to think.”

“No,” she called up to them. “You all stay there. Just give me a second to catch my breath and I’ll start back up again.”

Iggy summoned something from the armiger—a thin, white cord that was usually staked to the ground to stretch the fabric of the tent taut.  

“You mean we don’t got a rope?” Gladio asked.

“It’s one of the items the armiger won’t take, I’m afraid. This is all we have.” Searching the ground around him, he leaned over to pick up a small rock and tied it to one end of the cord.

“We’re throwing down a rope . . . of sorts,” Iggy said, tossing the rock with one hand and holding on to the cord with the other. “It’s likely not sturdy enough to pull you up, but you can use it for additional support.”

After a few tries, Laura managed to grab the end of the cord and tie it tightly a couple of times around her waist. She waited a few more minutes to catch her breath before she dropped to her hands and knees to crawl her way up the incline. Even though the wider distribution of weight made her seem steadier, it looked to Prompto like she was having a harder time planting her knees in a safe place in the sand. It was agony watching her as she creeped up those last forty feet, as she paused with every move forward to make sure each hand or knee was in a secure spot before continuing. Iggy was silent, his breath ragged and as he concentrated intensely on pulling the slackening cord.

When she got close enough to the top to reach, Iggy dropped to his knees in the dirt, holding his hand out as far as he could reach and saying softly, “Give me your hand.”

The moment he had her, he yanked her up, continuing to pull as he sat back and dragged her body across his lap. He stroked his gloved fingertips over her face as she gulped for air, whispering words Prompto couldn’t hear, and this was the proof he’d been looking for—this _was_ more than a casual fuck buddies thing after all. This looked like actual affection. This looked like dating. Iggy had even called her by her alias from when he was a kid, which was a little weird, but Prompto wasn’t gonna judge. He just wished he hadn’t finally gotten his proof as her gasping body shuddered in Iggy’s arms.

Prompto looked over at Noct to see his eyes wide with shock at this willing display from the two of them. Yeah, both he and Noct had been totally wrong about them, but Gladio didn’t really look all that surprised. Had he known all along they were dating?

Prompto wanted that so badly. But it’d been so hard just to make the four friends he had. He’d pretty much resigned himself to definitely not finding a girl on the road, since they kept moving so much. But maybe once he finished this crazy thing they were on, maybe once he’d done enough to prove himself a hero, girls would be more interested in him. Maybe Cindy would be more interested in him. That day he’d helped her out in Caem, he’d followed Laura’s and Iggy’s advice exactly, and he’d found it really interesting to talk about her efforts to reverse engineer those daemon-repelling headlights they’d gotten for the Regalia. But he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t say he wasn’t a little disappointed that she hadn’t tried to flirt with him at all those hours he’d worked beside her.

When Iggy and Laura finished with their . . . whatever it was, Iggy helped Laura to stand before a mask of calm seemed to settle over his face, but it was too late. They’d all already seen him in that private moment, and he couldn’t take it back.

“Apologies for the delay,” he said stiffly, gesturing forward with a hand. “We’re ready to resume our duties. Let us continue.”

Laura took her spot next to Prompto again, and he started to reach for her hand, but she snatched it away. It hurt his feelings more than it should’ve to see her pull away like that when she never had before, but when he looked down, he understood. Her hands were a mess—her fingernails torn and ragged and fingertips dripping with pearly blood.

“I’m sorry, Prom,” she said, giving him a sympathetic look, reaching for his shoulder, but she stopped herself. “Come on. Sooner we start back up, the sooner we can get out of here.”

As Iggy and Gladio took their usual places behind Noct and he and Laura followed up the rear, Prompto took a moment to study her. She looked bone white, and even though they were no longer walking uphill, her lips were still parted as she breathed.

“It’s not just the climb, is it?” he asked quietly. “Something’s wrong. Is it the Starscourge?”

She shook her head again. “It’s like those first days back in Insomnia; it hurts to breathe.”

“Oh. I’m not feeling weird around you or anything though. Would it help if you touched my arm again?”

“Sorry, Prom, but no. Touching any of you is excruciating right now.”

Prompto thought of that moment she and Iggy had just had, where she’d shuddered as he’d stroked her face, and figured Iggy must not have known he’d been hurting her.

“Do me a favor?” she asked.

“Anything.”

“Tell me the exact second you feel even a little bit like you want to kill me.”

“Oh. Yeah . . . sure. So that’s gonna happen again?” If so, he wasn’t looking forward to it. No matter how many animals and people he’d killed, never in his life had he ever actually _wanted_ to kill anything, except that first day leaving Insomnia. He’d thought he’d been going crazy when he’d first slid into the seat next to her in the Regalia. From that very first moment, she’d been nothing but nice, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how good it would feel to put a bullet in her brain. It’d actually been a relief that night to hear that he wasn’t turning into some psychopathic monster—that it was an energy incompatibility thing.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” she said.

They encountered a flock of wyverns and thunderocs as they made their way up the path, and Prompto left Laura behind to sit on a rock as he caught up to the other guys.

“I hate bastards that fly,” Gladio complained.

Prompto happened to love bastards that fly, because that was his time to shine. Summoning the new rebellion he’d just picked up at the arms dealer outside Verinas Mart, he took aim at the ones that seemed most interested in swooping down to nip at Noct, Iggy, and Gladio. A few shots would knock it to the ground for Iggy and Gladio to take care of, but Prompto had to be careful not to hit Noct as he warp-struck up to the creatures.

“Nice job, Prom,” Noct said when they’d finished, giving him a high five.

“Yeah, I’m pretty fricking awesome!” he laughed back, but damn, it felt good to hear him say that. Felt like he’d been saying it a lot lately.

After Gladio had collected everything he could from the corpses, they formed up again, hiked around the edge of a cliff face, and stopped dead.

“Well fuck, this is gonna be fun,” Gladio said.

“Indeed,” Iggy agreed.

The climb wasn’t quite as steep as the one they’d just had to do, but the ribbons of lava and the waves of heat radiating off the rocks in shimmering mirages would definitely make things a pain in the ass.

“You gonna be okay?” he asked, looking over at Laura, who was breathing in through her mouth, deep and shaking.

“Yeah, come on,” she said through gritted teeth, glaring up at the path ahead, and they took the first steps up the rippling terraced staircase.

It only took about ten strides up the incline before Prompto began to feel it; the air was so thick with the heat that it was uncomfortable to draw in breath, but the effort it took to keep moving up the stairs meant that he needed to breathe harder from the exercise. It felt like he was slowly suffocating. Drenched in sweat and clothes sticking to his skin, he convinced himself with every step that it wasn’t much farther, and his focused narrowed to a point as he concentrated on the next step up, the next breath, and the message he kept repeating in his head.

_Almost there. Not much farther._

The worst parts were when they had to stop to fight off a stray wyvern or spiracorn. Prompto could barely move as it was in the heat, and he was glad all he had to do was stand there and shoot. How the others managed to handle all the movement necessary for sword work was beyond him. He didn’t miss the way Laura seemed to collapse against a cliff wall every time they stopped so she could draw in deep, wheezing breaths. Everyone’s hair was weighed down with sweat, even Laura’s, and Prompto noticed he wasn’t the only one with splotchy red burns on his arms. Iggy and Laura were the only ones without them, since they’d kept their jackets on, but they had to be dying in this heat.

They had only made it a few steps past the last dead spiracorn when the moment Prompto had been waiting for finally happened, and Laura collapsed hard on a lava-free patch of stone, heaving and convulsing as her lips grew bluer right in front of his eyes. He fell to his knees in front of her, careful not to reach out for her despite how badly he wanted to. Looking up for help, he saw the others had gotten too far ahead to notice Laura’s fall.

“What can I do?!”

“Go,” she moaned. “Take the photo, Prom. Hurry.”

“Right. Got it.”

He didn’t understand how taking the photo would help her, but if that’s what she told him to do, he would do it as fast as he could. He sprinted up the steps, his own breath starting to come in heavy gasps as he grew dizzier with the heat and lack of oxygen.

Swerving around the others, he looked up and saw the cave, surrounded by Ifrit’s glowing horns, just up ahead. Thank Six, not much farther.

“Hey!” Gladio called after him. “Where’s Laura?”

But Prompto didn’t have time to stop and have a conversation; he’d been given a mission. Skidding to a halt in front of the cave, he turned his camera on with shaking fingers and took the lens cap off.  He clicked furiously, taking about twenty shots of the damn thing just in case his shaking hands couldn’t get a good one on the first few tries before sprinting back down to Noct, Gladio, and Iggy, who were already making their way back down the steps towards Laura.

She was worse when Prompto reached her again—propped up against a rock wall, gasping frantically as her whole face was beginning to turn waxy and blue.

“She’s hypoxic,” Gladio said, reaching for her. “She’s not getting enough air.”

Iggy crouched down in front of her. “What is it? What can we do?” he asked urgently.

“Get. Me off. These stairs.”

Without another word, Iggy scooped her off the ground into his arms, jostling her a little when she cried out in pain at his touch.

“Hurry,” she whimpered.

Iggy gave them all a brief look of wide-eyed resolve before turning and bounding down the uneven steps as fast as he could with her additional weight.

“Did she say what was wrong with her?” Noct asked him as they followed behind as fast as they could.

“Not really,” Prompto said. “She just said it hurt to breathe and touch us, like when she first came here. Looks worse to me.”

When they’d caught up with Iggy and Laura, far enough from the lava staircase to not feel the heat coming off it, she was still blue-lipped, pale, and gasping for air, but she looked marginally better. Iggy had taken off his jacket and folded it to place under her head as a makeshift pillow as she lay on her side, trembling all over as she tried to catch her breath.

“Can you stand for me to carry you again? We need to get you somewhere to recover as soon as possible,” Ignis was saying as Prompto, Noct, and Gladio sat down cross-legged next to her.

“No. We must get to the tomb,” she said. “It’s far enough from the cave. I should be all right. And we need to minimize our time here. The Starscourge . . ..” Everyone looked up at the plume of black smoke floating just above their heads at her words, and Prompto swallowed nervously.

“Prompto could take you down then, while we go on to the tomb,” Iggy suggested, but she was already shaking her head.

“It’s too steep. If I got into trouble, Prompto couldn’t help me alone. We have to go together.”

“Tell me, please,” he pleaded before clenching his teeth in frustration. “What is it that’s affecting you so?”

“It’s Eos,” she breathed. “Ifrit and Eos are both buried here.”

“Eos isn’t a person,” Prompto said, leaning down to catch her half-lidded gaze with his.

“She is your star, Goddess of the Dawn, just like the Greek one. Infected with the scourge. Body dead and mind half-mad with grief and pain.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying—Greek. Please, just tell me what I can do.” Iggy said.

Laura raised her eyes to a spot just above Prompto’s head and lifted a trembling hand to point to a rocky peak that reached straight up into the sky, high above them.   

“[The wing](https://cdn3.whatculture.com/images/2017/03/8dc864b5630e3bc2-600x400.png), Ignis. Look at the wing.”

Prompto turned to look at the rock she’d been pointing at. Okay, to him it looked like it could be a wing, but he didn’t see how that meant it was some goddess named after their world. Iggy seemed to realize something though, because as Prompto turned back to look at them, his eyes went wide.

“I’ve seen that before. [The painting](https://i.imgur.com/1oyVhtl.jpg) outside the throne room.”

“Yes,” she nodded, “She was real.”

“Someone wanna fill us in here?” Noct said impatiently.

Iggy glared up at the wing. “The painting outside the throne room—the one of the prophecy, it depicts an angelic figure reaching out to bless the King of Light and his companions as Lucii, gods, and daemons look on. I always thought it was merely a representation of the Oracle, but if her physical body is there . . ..”

“Then that’s really Eos,” Gladio finished.

“Source of light. Source of life. Source of time itself. Goddess of the Dawn, Life, and Time. I can feel the loosed energy from the cave. Lost. Death. Blight. Pain,” Laura grimaced and shook her head as if to clear it. “I need to get farther away from here.”

Noct summoned the map and unfolded it, searching. “It says there’s a haven just here,” he said, pointing. “Let’s head there and rest for a little bit before heading to the tomb.”

Laura sat up, her hand on her head while Iggy’s hands hovered over her, hesitant to touch.

“Can you walk?” Ignis asked.

She nodded. “I think so.”

Prompto had recovered enough from the lava steps that he could focus his full attention on her as they walked, but they were all watching her closely as they made their way to where the map said the haven would be. She seemed to get stronger the farther they got from the cave, her breath coming easier and her face looking less waxy.

But when they reached the cliff face they were supposed to climb to reach the site, they all stopped, craning their necks to see just how high it went up and how difficult the climb looked. There was no doubt about it. She was gonna fall. Prompto turned back to look at her in dread, only to see the rest of them giving her the same look.

“I really do love you all,” she said, chuckling weakly. “If it makes you feel any better, you can use that cord to tie me to Gladio so he can catch me if I fall.”

“Sounds kinky, let’s do it,” Gladio said as he summoned the cord. “Get over here, Princess” 

Working together as Gladio carefully tied the necessary knots as best he could without touching her, they created a makeshift two-part harness with a length of the cord stretching between them. Prompto had to put her out of his mind as he climbed, since Iggy insisted he be the one to follow underneath her, and Prompto couldn’t do anything from his spot underneath Noct. But they didn’t need to worry, as everyone made it to the top without any difficulties, and the haven was only a few steps away.

They all decided it would be a bad idea to stay overnight, even if they were exhausted, so they set up the chairs to get some chow before setting out again. It turned out all that cooking Iggy and Laura did back in Caem was for a reason, because all Iggy had to do was summon some empty bowls as Laura summoned a full container of hot robust bean soup. The only weird thing was the deafening shriek that accompanied her usual flash of silver light as the container appeared in her hands.

“Oooh,” she said, wincing. “That hasn’t happened in a while.”

“I thought that stopped,” Prompto said as she handed the container to Iggy, who took the bowl silently and began to dish out individual portions.

“Eos,” she said. “I think the Crystal must have come from here, from her body. The pain from the Crystal is the same I feel here, the same I feel when I touch you. I don’t think she can bear my energy signature, and she shrieks in agony whenever I use magic.

“The pain never completely ceased for me. Any time I use the Crystal’s magic, I still feel it. Even Noct still burns me now and then.”

“Yeah, me too, sometimes,” Noct said with a nod.

“Wow, I had no idea,” Prompto said. “I thought you were all better.”

Prompto looked down at his soup when Iggy handed him the bowl, and he ate in silence, dreading the hike that still lay ahead of them.


	40. Chapter 40

Full and sleepy, it was even harder to pack up his chair and head out again, but the silence and the tense atmosphere was a steady reminder that they needed to get the hell out of that place as soon as they could, no matter how much Prompto wanted to set up the tent and call it a day. As they set out, the four of them stayed close to Laura rather than taking up a defensive formation, despite her protests.

“Honestly, I’ll be fine,” she said, but her face was still pale, and her feet dragged with every step. “It’s not worth all of us walking around in a huddle so a single wyvern can swoop in and take us all out at once. Spread out.”

“You’re underestimating us if you think a wyvern could take us all, bunched up or not,” Gladio said.

It seemed like the second they stepped off the haven, the path narrowed again—another ledge, another drop-off. At least the ground was rock, even if it was jagged—better than the sand. But Prompto still stumbled a bit like a drunk chocobo as the edges of his boots caught on the lips of the uneven stone in the dark.

“Watch your step, kids,” Gladio said when Prompto had tripped and caught himself for the third time in like, an hour.  

He chuckled weakly. “Workin’ on it!”

“Just take it easy. We gotta keep it slow for Laura anyway. Don’t wanna see you go over, too,” Gladio said, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

“Aww, thanks, big guy,” he replied, elbowing him in the arm.

Iggy hadn’t been the only one to change on this trip of theirs. Gladio had always seemed a little on the severe side to Prompto, but it had gotten worse after the confrontation with Ravus and to the point where he’d been downright unsociable after Vaullerey. But then he left—just took off with barely any warning and no explanation. He’d told them all when they’d met up in Lestallum about his duel with the Blademaster, but it didn’t really explain why he’d left in the first place and why he seemed so calm now. He’d been more easygoing with both Noct and Prompto since he’d gotten back—even offered to teach Prompto more bodyweight exercises so he could stay in shape on the road. And now this—hearing him talk like he really cared made Gladio feel more like a really big, scary brother, good to have on his side.  

“I don’t like the looks of that big space below us,” Prompto said, biting his lip as he chanced a glance over the side to eye the large amphitheatre space barely visible in the dim moonlight. From his experience, large spaces were home for large, ferocious animals that were usually more than happy to try and eat their group, even if they didn’t want to do anything more than pass through undisturbed.

“Yeah, looks like we’re gonna have to see it up close and personal anyway,” Noct grumbled as he stopped, and Prompto could just make out in front of him that he’d stopped because they’d reached the end of the path.

Laura stepped up to the edge of the drop-off and looked over. “Anyone feel like leaping into a giant nest full of eggs?”

She’d been quiet, but holding up okay, since they’d left the haven, and Prompto could hear a spark of her usual cheer in her voice as she spoke, even if her face still looked pale in the glow of their travel lights. He noticed that she was careful to keep a bubble of personal space around her as she walked, though—taking extra care not to even brush against any of the rest of them.

“I’m down if you are,” Gladio said, stepping up to the ledge and leaping down into the soft, dry grasses of the nest below. She and Iggy leapt off as soon as Gladio had rolled out of the way, and he and Noct followed right behind.

He rolled out of the nest and stood to find Iggy staring at the eggs large enough to comfortably fit two of them, his head tilted and a finger pressed to his lips in thought.

“This appears to be a zu’s nest, I believe,” he said.

“No way, Specs. I know that look on your face,” Noct said accusingly.

Prompto looked back and forth between Noct and Iggy. “What is it?”

“I was merely curious to know how differently a zu’s egg would taste from a birdbeast egg, but it’s no matter. The creature is rare enough as it is, and there are only three eggs here,” Iggy said.

“Then go ahead and take one!” Prompto exclaimed as he pointed to the closest egg. “I’d rather not have more of those things flying around, thanks!” Even if it did mean they’d be eating nothing but scrambled zu egg for the next two weeks, it would’ve been totally worth it.

“Your egging me on is hardly justification for satisfying my curiosity, I’m afraid,” he said, turning away from the nest with a sigh. “And by refraining now, I hatch my plan to lower the market price of zu tender in the future.”

Sliding down two more steep drop-offs found them on the floor of the wide-open arena Prompto had been dreading all night, and he kept his eyes locked on the sky, the tips of his fingers twitching to summon every weapon he could use before the zu could even land.

“Hey, Ig,” he asked as they sneaked around the edge of the cliff wall, “Just . . . you know, out of curiosity, what’s the best way to fight a zu?”

Iggy spread his fingers wide over his glasses, pushing them up on his face. “In your case, I would use the auto crossbow that you and Cid upgraded.”

“Which we won’t have to worry about if we keep quiet,” Gladio said in a low voice as they drew closer to the arch that would lead them out of the arena. Eager to leave the area behind and not test the bad luck they’d had so far this evening, they picked up the pace, racing for the arch and only stopping to catch their breath once they’d reached the cliffside path that was supposed to lead to the tomb.

As they rested, Iggy stepped up to Laura, gazing down at her with a serious expression as she panted. “You’re not recovered yet, are you?” he asked quietly.

“It’s bearable,” she said. “It was just the running.”

They locked eyes for a moment. “I miss . . .,” Iggy began, but his eyes slid over to Prompto, and he stopped and turned away.

Laura sighed and pushed off the cliff wall as she followed after him. “The sun will be rising soon. Don’t forget to look at the sky this morning.”

“Indeed,” he said as he caught up to Noct.

Prompto kept checking the view over the precipice as they walked, and from what he could tell, it was gonna be spectacular once the sun rose—maybe one of his best landscape shots ever. He wondered if Vyv would be interested in publishing some of his other work. If he put together a portfolio or something, the photo he’d get this morning would definitely be going in there. Based on the color of the sky, the sun looked like it was about to rise any minute, but he could still see the shadows of the mountains stretching as far as the eye could see.

“We got company!” Gladio called out in front of him, breaking the serene moment Prompto had been having.

“Daggers, polearms, and ice, everyone,” Iggy announced as he summoned his polearm and leapt into the air, spinning the weapon in his hand before driving it up into the body of one of the four killer wasps blocking their path. “Be sure to take them down as quickly as you can, else they can become a bit waspish.”

“You no longer have any right to comment on the timing of my sense of humor, Ig,” Gladio said with a barking laugh.

Prompto summoned his pistol as he looked back to Laura. “Just sit down for a sec. We totally got this!”

He didn’t look to see if she complied as he rushed forward to help, taking a quick shot at Gladio’s wasp before concentrating his fire on the last one no one had claimed. The damn things were fast, and he had to keep scurrying farther and farther up the path, swerving through the slashing weapons and diving stingers, as his wasp flew after him. A few more shots and _damn_ , he’d finally grounded the thing. Summoning another pistol, he placed both barrels right up against its head and alternated shots until it stopped moving.

He reloaded before he turned around, casting his eyes back to the battle, which had moved up the trail along with him, to see who needed the most help. Iggy seemed to be holding his own okay, and Noct was warp-striking too much for him to be of any assistance, so he took aim at Gladio’s wasp and got a couple of shots in. Gladio paused, giving him a nod of thanks before leaping up to arc his sword into the wasp’s belly.

Prompto saw a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Noct stumble as Iggy pushed him out of the way, but the jarring movement made it clear that the wasp that moved along with the shove was attached to Noct’s body, its stinger dug deep into his arm. Iggy drove the blade of his polearm into the struggling wasp’s body, attempting to wrench the poison-tipped stinger out of the muscle.

“Noct!” Prompto cried out, running in close to get a few point-blank shots to help Ignis out.

With a violent yank, Noct freed himself from the stinger, and before Prompto could summon a potion for him, he warped out of the fray near Laura. That worked for him; Prompto could help Iggy with Noct’s wasp while he was safe enough to handle getting his own potion. The wasp dove for Iggy as he spun to the right, reaching out to the left with his polearm to force the blade into the tough exoskeleton of its head, while Prompto alternated shots left and right into its abdomen.

Over the sound of the bug’s last buzzes, he could hear the shrieking of Laura’s magic, and Iggy whipped around in that direction while Prompto checked to make sure the wasp was really dead.

“Noct!” Ignis called out as he hurtled toward where Noct and Laura had been last time Prompto had seen them.

Prompto put one last bullet through the wasp’s eye before turning toward where Iggy had run off to. He was confused as to why Laura would need to use her magic right now with Noct nearby, and Noct should’ve had no trouble summoning his own potion.

_Fuck._

It took him a second for his brain to even register what he was seeing: Laura collapsed at the base of the cliff wall—again—her head tilted back, eyes closed, and teeth clenched in agony. The cause for it was easy to figure out this time, since Noct was standing over her, face twisted in rage, his eyes having taken on a sort of red haze. His fist spasmed for a moment around the hilt of his sword, which was buried as far as it could go into Laura’s left shoulder—gods, so close to where her heart should be if she was human. Was one of her hearts there? Prompto didn’t know, but either way, it wasn’t good.

Noct tore the blade from her flesh with a sickening crack and squelch before drawing back and raising it again, poising to strike.

“Noct, don’t!” she yelled, holding up a falchion with her uninjured arm to block the blow, and Prompto started sprinting toward her, swerving out of Gladio’s way as he finished off his wasp and trying to come up with _something_ he could do when he reached them. There was no way Laura could defend herself as weak as she was already, and there was no way Prompto was gonna make it there in time before Noct stabbed her again. For a fleeting moment, he thought about shooting Noct in the arm—just grazing him enough to distract him—but no way could he do that. Could he?

The blade seemed to descend toward her heart in slow motion as he ran, shouting Noct’s name as loudly as he could. Oh, Six, he was really gonna kill her this time.

Just when Prompto was sure Noct was gonna bury his blade directly into her heart, a whirl of spinning silver flashed between them, catching Noct’s sword and wrenching it to the side before disappearing in a shower of phosphorescent dismissing petals. Noct’s eyes followed the path of the dagger in confusion for a moment before turning back to Laura, but thank Six, Iggy had stepped between them.

Iggy’s eyes were blazing green fire as he summoned a lance, spinning it in a hand before taking a wide defensive stance over Laura’s outstretched legs, holding the polearm like a training staff.

“Get out of the way!” Noct screamed, attempting to duck and aim a blow at Laura between Iggy’s legs, but Iggy twisted the lance across his body, catching Noct’s sword with the handle.

“Prompto!” Iggy bellowed, and Prompto realized he had frozen on the spot, held captive by sheer disbelief for what was happening in front of him. Iggy paused for a moment to block two more of Noct’s thrusts before saying, “For gods’ sakes, stop standing there and crack a remedy or smelling salts on him. He’s confused!”

Iggy twisted to the side and angled his lance to block another blow from a roaring Noct, but Noct summoned a dagger with the other hand as his sword made contact, swiping it across Ignis’s middle and ripping his shirt open.

“Uh, remedy, right,” he said shakily as he heard Gladio’s pounding footsteps coming up behind him.

Summoning what he needed, he lunged for Noct’s back and smacked the flask against the back of his neck . . . probably harder than he should’ve done. He winced in sympathy as Noct went limp, and Prompto reached out to catch him under his armpits as he gasped and dropped his sword to the ground with a resounding clang.

“What the . . .,” Noct began, lurching to his feet out of Prompto’s hold and shaking his head.

Iggy didn’t move, his polearm still held across him at the ready as he glared down at Noct. His eyes shifted to Gladio briefly as Gladio threw himself down by Laura’s body behind him, probably assessing whether Gladio was a threat to Laura as well. As soon as he’d heard Gladio’s exclamation of “fuck,” his eyes shot back to Noct—his expression carved from stone and his chest heaving—waiting to see if Noct would strike again.

“Specs?” Noct asked in a small voice, and Prompto moved around to see Noct’s eyes wide with horror at the blood dripping from the tear in Iggy’s shirt onto his pants and boots.

In a soft voice, Iggy asked, “Are you back with us?”

“Did I do that? You’re hurt.”

Iggy relaxed, the glare melting from his face and his shoulders drooping as he dismissed his polearm.

“A touch of confusion,” he said, “It’s common when fighting these creatures. I’m afraid the fault was mine for not informing you.”

Clenching his jaw and grimacing in pain, he turned and kneeled to check on Laura, and Prompto patted Noct’s back before rushing to Laura’s other side.

“Oh, fuck,” Noct said as he leaned over them. “You guys, I’m so sorry.”  He summoned a potion and cracked it over Iggy’s back.

“Thank you, Highness,” he said quietly, but he only had eyes for Laura.

Noct had stabbed her in the lower left shoulder and wrenched the blade down as he removed it, leaving a clean two-inch slit in the fabric of her uniform with another inch of shredded fabric and skin below it. White, iridescent fluid leaked steadily from the wound, making the black fabric of her suit look almost like fuel on dark water.

“This is deep enough that we may have to chance a potion,” Ignis said. “This could kill you if we don’t get the bleeding stopped.”

“No,” she breathed. “Not this close to Eos. The energy incompatibility would do more harm than good.” She looked up at Noct. “You can see the entrance from here, yeah? Take Gladio and Ignis and go get the weapon. Prompto will look after me.”

“Laura, I—” Noct began.

“It’s all right. Really. Hurry back,” she said, then gave Ignis a weak smile of reassurance.

Iggy heaved a sigh and slowly rose to his feet, pausing in front of Prompto for a moment, holding his gaze gravely, and saying, “Take care of her, Prompto.”

Prompto swallowed and nodded, feeling the weight of Iggy’s trust settling heavy on his shoulders.

Once they’d left, he kneeled down again next to Laura. “What can I do?” he asked.

She pointed to his upper arm. “Would you mind if I ruined your handkerchief?”

“Totally! Here,” he said, untying the handkerchief from his arm and holding it out to her, but she didn’t take it.

“I’m gonna need your help,” she said softly, her eyes growing heavy.

“Please don’t pass out on me,” he pleaded. “Iggy would kill me if something happened to you on my watch.”

She hummed noncommittally before saying, “I’m gonna need you to tie that around my shoulder, tight as you can.”

Prompto nodded. This was really gonna suck. The idea of hurting her made him feel kinda queasy, but it was either this or letting her bleed out.

When she leaned forward, he wrapped the cloth around the back of her shoulder, careful to touch her as little as possible as he quickly slipped it under her arm. He crossed the two ends together and looped under, pulling the knot close to her shoulder and angling it so the cloth would cover the wound.

“You ready?” he warned.

“Yep,” she said in what he assumed was an attempt at cheer.

As quickly as he could, he pulled the knot hard and tight, and she sucked in a deep, whistling breath but otherwise didn’t make a sound.

“Okay, hard part’s done. Just gotta make the second knot,” he said as he looped the fabric over and tied again. Then, to distract her, he said, “I’ve done this a coupla times, you know, patching up wounds with handkerchiefs. They come in handy.”

“I remember the dog we found by the side of the road,” she said. “You were so sweet to him.”

“The other time was a dog too—one of Lady Lunafreya’s dogs, actually.”

“Umbra?”

“No, she’s got another one. Named her Chibi when I took care of her, but her name’s Pryna.”

He was running out of things to say, and as her eyelids drooped, he realized he needed to ask her questions instead, keep her talking. There was no way he was gonna let her be unconscious when the others got back.

“So, you mentioned once that our world exists in different universes, right?” When she nodded, he asked, “You ever been to our world in another universe?” She only shook her head in response. Six, he needed to think of _something_ that would get her talking. “What about the humans where you’re from? What’s different about them from us?”

“No magic for one thing,” she began, and he sighed in relief. “You all have the most incredible hearts—so very brave and good. It’s not like there aren’t good people on Earth; there just aren’t as many as there seem to be here.”

She paused for a moment, thinking, before saying, “And then there’s your hair.”

Prompto ran his fingers through his hair, which was probably a disaster after the lava steps. Iggy’s and Noct’s certainly was. “What about our hair?”

She chuckled a little. “Everyone has what would be a really, really expensive haircut, had you been on Earth—like the equivalent to thousands of gil. I thought for sure when I got here hairdressers were the most revered people on this planet, but no. Your hair just has better hold, I guess. Should take a hell of a lot longer than it does for you guys to style it every morning. And do you know how difficult it’s been for me keeping my hair together as often as you guys ride around with the top down? Hard to keep those couture haircuts of yours looking good in the normal world, yah know. Maintenance is a nightmare for most people.”

“Go on, keep talking to me,” he encouraged.

“Oooh, are you gonna regret saying that,” she said, tilting her head back against the cliff and giggling. “I learned talking from the very best, and my mind’s going out the window along with the baby and the bath water. Did you know there’s a planet that has an entire channel dedicated to defenestration? Ended up being the most popular channel in three galaxies—saved the television industry during the anti-TV movement . . . until holovid came out of course. And even then, you had hipsters running around thirty years later claiming that two-dimensional images were the only way to get the authentic experience.”

When she stopped again, her eyes growing heavier, he pointed at her necklace, which had begun to shimmer with a kind of silver light as she’d talked. “What’s that all about?”

“He’s upset. So many years. Wars. Revolutions. Disease. Rescue missions. It could all come down to a sword. Kinda insultin’ if you think about it.”

She gasped, her eyes shooting to his for the first time since this nightmare began. “Tell Ignis he must take Eilendil. My full name will release the clasp—like, all of it, even the part I didn’t tell you.”

“Um . . . what?”

Her head flopped back to the wall of the cliff again, and the thunking sound of her skull against the rock made him wince.

“He knows. Tell Noct it wasn’t his fault,” she said quietly.

Oh, fuck. She was saying goodbye. She thought she was dying, and she was saying goodbye. No, no, no, no. He jumped to his feet, looking to see if they were coming back yet, but he couldn’t see anyone. Where the fuck were they? He knelt back down at Laura’s side again, his hands hovering over her, but Six, he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t comfort her. He was terrified and useless, and Iggy was gonna kill him.

“Don’t be frightened,” she mumbled. “I still got plenty left in me. Just got a lot goin’ on in m’brain right now; not sure how long this filter’s gonna last. Probably gonna start talkin’ nonsense soon.”

“You mean you haven’t already?” he asked with a terrified laugh.

“I love you, Prom. Don’ worry. If I catch fire and become a different person, I’ll still love you all. ‘e still loved me when it ‘appened ta ‘im.”

He had no idea what she was talking about, so he guessed the nonsense had started up already. Still, at least she was talking.

“Who? Iggy?” he asked.

“No. ‘e died cause o’ me, you know. They all die cause o’ me in the end. Will it be my fault when ‘e dies, too? Fuck no. The Fire will burn its full potential. DO YOU HEAR ME, EOS?”

She shouted her last words without warning, and he almost fell over on his back at the shock of the sudden volume change. Okay, he changed his mind. Maybe he didn’t want her talking. She was gonna hurt herself if she screamed any more like that.

But she seemed to have gone quiet on her own.

“S’beautiful,” she murmured dreamily after a minute or so, the rising sun reflecting in her eyes as she looked behind him, and he turned to follow her gaze. Now that he could see it better, he understood what had captured her attention.

Gods it _was_ beautiful: the vertebrae of rocky mountains, verdant fields, and high stone arches catching the light from the rising sun and shining with a pink and gold hue. The river twisting through the mountains was transformed into a ribbon of fire; the wing of the Disc shined like an ocean wave crashing against rock, frozen in the sun; and the horizon seemed to wear the rising gold sun like a crown, sending out streaks of buttery light to reflect off the pink and purple clouds.

“Yeah, it really is,” he said. “It’s too bad it sucked so much getting’ up here.”  

“Take a picture for me?” she asked, her eyes large and pleading, and he couldn’t say no to that face.

Getting to his feet and summoning his camera, he took a few [snapshots](https://i.imgur.com/JPhIhn9.png), glancing down to check on her between every click of the button, before doing a final panorama shot. He was about to kneel back down at her side when he saw Iggy sprinting toward them as fast as his long legs would carry him, with Noct and Gladio doing their best to keep up.

Without pausing to speak, he bounded to a halt and scooped Laura up in his arms, ignoring her gasp of pain at his touch.

Prompto turned and followed the pair out of that beautiful hellhole.

***

By the time they‘d reached the car, she was delirious—her voice deep and terrifying—but she’d been right. Every word out of her mouth was either about Eos or complete nonsense—that is, when she wasn’t screaming. Prompto had been holding back the tears growing in the corners of his eyes as she got progressively worse. And Iggy—his face was completely frozen in hard, wild-eyed determination as she thrashed in his arms, yelling out her crazy stuff.

“The Goddess of the Dawn, mother of the Six, mother of all of mankind. Blighted, soiled star. Her womb is ripped away and she cries out, lamenting for her love. She burns me. Her children burn me.” Her eyes widened as she cried out, “They’re burning me! No, Eilendil; she doesn’t understand!”

She stopped ranting for a second and looked toward the mountain, her eyes rolling.

“I am the Anathema— a counterpart that should not exist on the same plane. I must stay to protect them. I swore an oath: my life, whatever is necessary. My crime is the same as yours. Forgive me. Please, let me stay. The Fire is precious to me. Even now he incinerates me, but I would not be parted from the flame.”

At her words, Iggy’s nostrils flared, his jaw clenched, and his eyes went wide. He set her down on her feet next to the back door of the car, holding her up by an arm, and examined her back.

“ _Bloody_ _hell_ ,” he spat.

“What is it?” Prompto asked.

“Oh, fuck,” Gladio exclaimed. “Let’s just get her in the car and get her the fuck away from here.”

Prompto’s eyes flickered to Noct, who was hurling himself into the driver’s seat and slamming the door, before he peered around Gladio to see what they were reacting so dramatically to.

Across Laura’s shoulders and upper thighs were two bands of charred uniform, which had partially burned away to reveal red, raw, blistered skin. As he circled around, he thought he saw what looked like the same burns in the shapes of handprints on her thigh and side.

“Is that what I think it is?” Prompto asked, kinda terrified that it was, but it was impossible, wasn’t it? She was wearing clothes, and Iggy was wearing gloves.

“Front passenger door,” Iggy growled through his teeth, and Gladio leapt forward to open it before Iggy practically tossed her in the Regalia, reclining the seat back as far as it would go and strapping her in before squeezing himself in the back seat behind her.

Once they had shut the doors, she calmed down a little, still looking out the window toward the mountain. She sighed deeply before saying “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Highness, please hurry. We need to get her away from here now,” Ignis said tensely.

“Oh, I’m on it, Igs,” Noct growled, flinging the car in a U-turn and flooring it.

“Easy there,” Gladio said, reaching forward to place a gentle hand on Noct’s shoulder. “You’re not gonna save her if you crash us all into a ditch.”

“I just need to get us back to Verinas as fast as possible. Then everything’s gonna be all right,” he ground out.

“No,” Ignis said, his voice stern. “Her symptoms started there. We have to go farther out.”

“Fuck,” Noct swore. “How far we talkin’?”

“There’s a haven just beyond. Lambath, I believe it’s called.”

Prompto hadn’t paid much attention to Noct since he’d come back from the tomb, but looking at his reflection in the rearview mirror, he looked like a man possessed. His eyes were crazed and bloodshot; his hands gripping the steering wheel with all his strength, turning his knuckles white; and his teeth bared in determination. Prompto felt bad for him. He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if he’d been the one responsible for maybe killing a friend and Iggy’s girlfriend.

Iggy leaned over the back of the seat, which was practically in his lap, studying Laura’s face. She slowly opened her eyes to him, bringing her good hand up over her head to touch his face with a soft, sweet smile. Iggy flinched and tried to pull back, but she whispered, “No. S’alright now.”

“Laura,” he breathed.

She drew in a long deep breath and let it out before speaking again. “S’weird, you kinda smell like your name, ‘ave I told ya? S’like smoked sweet sage. Makes me kinda want sweet potatoes. You know, you really are lovelier than the stars . . ..”

Then her hand dropped from his face as she closed her eyes.

It took them almost a half an hour and ten years off their lives to arrive at the haven Iggy had indicated. The second Noct had slammed the brakes on the car, Iggy had the door open, squeezing himself out from underneath Laura’s seat and flinging himself to the passenger door.

He dragged Laura’s unconscious body onto the pavement in the middle of the road, summoned a dagger, and cut Prompto’s handkerchief from her arm. Noct had come up from behind him while he worked, and he thrust a hi-potion over Iggy’s shoulder. Iggy seized it and cracked it over the wound while Prompto and Gladio stood over the three of them, watching.

Laura’s eyes shot open wide as she inhaled sharply and arched her back off the ground in agony. Prompto couldn’t help but wince and cover his ears at the sound of her tortured scream that echoed and bounced off the boulders back to them. She convulsed for a few seconds before finally relaxing—her eyes heavy-lidded, but at least she was awake.

“Hey, Princess,” Gladio said over Iggy’s shoulder. “You still kickin’?”

“Heh, ready to kick your ass,” she mumbled. “Fucking potions.”

Her gaze shifted to Iggy, who tilted his head at her, his eyes seeming to plead for something—at least, that’s what it looked like to Prompto. After a moment, he closed his eyes, let out a long breath, and nodded.

Good. He must’ve decided she was gonna be all right.

“I’m gonna start settin’ up the tent,” Gladio said, pointing a thumb in the direction of the haven, and Prompto and Noct followed, giving them as much privacy as they could get in the middle of the road.

By the time they’d finished setting up everything but the kitchen area, which Iggy would never let them touch, Prompto had spotted Iggy carrying Laura up to the haven. Figuring Laura would be cold after losing all that blood, Gladio had built a roaring fire, and Prompto had set up her sleeping bag across from the chairs. He’d just summoned her favorite blanket from the armiger and set it next to the bag when Iggy stepped onto the haven.

Noct jumped from his chair, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his face drawn tight. As Ignis passed him with Laura in his arms, he paused for a moment, looking at Noct with a blank expression.

“Highness?”

Noct seemed to come to himself, moving out of the way and gesturing to the pallet.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Go ahead.”

Iggy bowed his head a little before laying Laura down, covering her with the blanket, and sitting down cross-legged at her side. He went still, his head bowed and his eyes half-closed in relief and exhaustion. Laura’s face wore a similar expression as she turned her head to stare at the fire.

And this was what confused Prompto so much about them. Laura was always so affectionate, even with him, and they were just friends. And Iggy must’ve been some kind of friendly, since they ‘sparred’ every freaking morning. He would’ve thought after a near-death experience, they’d be all over each other; Prompto definitely would’ve been if it’d been his girlfriend that had almost died today.

Noct shuffled slowly up to them, looking at his toes.

“Iggy . . . Laura,” he began, and they both looked up at him. “I don’t even know how to say this.” He took a deep breath and started speaking on a rush, “I knew I needed to get outta there to take the potion, but I swear I didn’t know I was confused, too, or I never would have warped so close to you, Laura. Shit, I could’ve killed you both. Iggy, you should’ve ripped me to shreds. In fact, I wish you had. I’m so sorry you guys.”

“It’s quite all right, Noct,” Ignis said, his expression serious but his eyes kind. “As I said, the fault was mine for not notifying the group before we began the battle.”

“Laura, I—” Noct began again, but he didn’t seem to know what to say.

“Noct, I promise. It’s all right. Eos was using her connection to you all to try and kill me, and she got you at a vulnerable time. It really wasn’t your fault.” Propping herself up on her right arm, she sat up and held a hand out to Noct. “Come here.”

Noct kneeled down and wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I’m so, so sorry,” he said over her shoulder.  

Prompto watched her closely as Noct hugged her. She’d winced a little as Noct had squeezed her, and even now, she was trying to hold her left shoulder away from the embrace.

“Laura, are you still hurt? Do you need another potion?” Prompto asked.

Noct jerked out of her one-armed hug and pulled back the slit in her bloody top to reveal the wound, which had stopped bleeding, as far as Prompto could tell, but it still looked angry and moist, like raw meat.

“Oh my gods,” Noct said, summoning another hi-potion, but Laura put a hand on his arm.

“It won’t do any good. My body doesn’t accept your energy as efficiently, remember? Don’t worry; it’ll be completely gone in a few days.”

Iggy gently cleared his throat, and Laura looked over her shoulder before leaning back so he could look at the gash himself.

“This will require dressing, and you need to clean both it and yourself beforehand,” he said sternly.

“In a minute,” she replied before turning to Prompto and Gladio. “Hey, Prom, Princess, scoot those chairs over here so Prom can show us the photos he took today.”

“Err . . . you really wanna do that?” Prompto asked as he moved his chair closer to where she, Noct, and Iggy sat on her blanket. He couldn’t think why she’d want to look back and remember that time she almost died . . . a few hours ago.

“Well . . . my view of everything wasn’t quite as good as I would’ve liked.”

Leaning over in his seat so everyone had a view of the little screen, he began with the most recent photos, starting with the view from the Tomb of the Fierce and moving backward. When he clicked to the photos of the cave, she stopped him.

“That’s where the Crystal came from,” she said, touching the edge of the screen. “The [shape](https://i.imgur.com/RRJX9Pb.png) is even the same. The Crystal is the womb of Eos.”

“You kept saying that on the way to the Regalia. How do you know it’s the womb and not something else? Like the heart . . . or the brain?” Ignis asked.

“Because what is the source of life, to a human? It’s not the heart or the brain. It’s the womb. I’ve seen the Crystal in Regis’s mind. It even looks like the upside-down cross-section of a uterus.”

“And you mentioned something about her being the mother of the Six,” Prompto pointed out.

Laura nodded. “I’ve suspected she existed for a while now but wasn’t completely certain until today. Her golden power, the one that’s so similar to my time magic, runs through everything—the Six, you all, the world.”

“So you mean to say all this time you’ve been saying ‘power of Eos,’ you meant literally the power of a goddess named Eos? I’d thought you meant our world,” Iggy said.

“Think I woulda remembered learning about Eos as a goddess in school,” Gladio said. “Why haven’t any of us, including Mr. Smartass over here, ever heard of her?”

“Because the victors are the ones responsible for writing history, and they usually have things to be ashamed of. She’s been erased from history for some reason, but sloppily. She still appears in many of your pieces of art all around Insomnia,” Laura said. “For frack’s sake, there’s even a statue of her in your [main square](https://i.imgur.com/refioib.png).”

“So, just to be sure I understand everything, Ifrit and Eos were somehow infected with Starscourge, likely around the time of the War of the Astrals, and their bodies lie in Ravatogh together. The Crystal was taken from her body at some point and given to Lucis to protect as a source of light against the scourge and daemon hordes. Correct?” Ignis asked.

“That sums it up, yeah. There’s something ancient and dark going on here, and I think it has something to do with what we’re doing. Everything is too connected for it to be a coincidence. We just need to connect the threads.”

When they’d finished flipping through the photos, Iggy stood up and leaned over her, setting a careful hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right to get cleaned up? I should like to set up the equipment for a meal before dressing your wound.”

“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “I promise; I’m okay.”

Iggy nodded and headed to the haven’s edge to set up the kitchen, and before Laura could stand up, Prompto stopped her. He’d been meaning to give her this for a while now; he’d had it printed out the first time they went to Lestallum. But then she and Iggy had gotten together in their weird way, and he wasn’t sure if it would only make it weirder to give it to her. His gift was . . . kind of more of a romantic thing.

“Hang on,” he said. “I . . .,” he winced a little. Hopefully she wouldn’t think this was cheesy or anything. “I kinda made this . . . you know. For you guys.”

He leaned forward in his chair and grabbed the little book he’d put behind him when he first sat down—a photo book of ten of the best photos he’d taken of her and Iggy together, with a few shots of the five of them mixed in.

As she flipped through the pages, she stopped for a moment on the photo he’d taken of Iggy and Laura in the back seat of the Regalia, her head tucked into his side, nearly asleep. The look on Iggy’s face as he gazed down at her was one of incredulous wonder. She ran her fingertips over the plastic sheeting, her lips parted slightly. When she looked up at him, her eyes were shining.

“Thank you, Prompto,” she said quietly before reaching up and pulling his forehead to her lips. “And thank you for everything you did today.”

“Yeah, no sweat,” he said with a little laugh.

Thinking back on everything they’d done today, Prompto supposed he’d been a lot of help—all the flying monsters, watching over Laura as they walked, taking the photos, administering first-aid, keeping Laura talking . . . even giving her the photo book.

Maybe he had gotten the chance to be a hero today after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should point out here that the image links in the game are not to prove these theories canon. Not even I believe they're canon. There are probably about a thousand official pieces of lore that refute these theories that I've likely missed or deliberately not put in this story. I've chosen to write this theory because it captured my imagination, and the little "proof" images make it more fun. 
> 
> Please, don't take these Eos/Ifrit, Ardyn/Solheim/Starscourge plotlines as official lore!
> 
> Also, the main square of Section D in Insomnia is now just the main square. It’s just easier. Please ignore the fried chicken sign; chickens are not a thing on Eos in this particular story...and honestly, I don't think they are in the game, but oh well?


	41. Chapter 41

_None of you has gotten enough sleep to leave yet,_ she protested for the seventh time as he slid into the back seat next to her. Of course, he himself had protested his position in the back seat rather than the driver’s, but Noct had vehemently insisted, so it seemed as though there were protestations all around for this departure.

_If you continue to argue against this point, I shall be forced to tell them all that your proximity to Eos is still burning your already enflamed synapses, even if she’s no longer attacking you outright, and then we’ll most certainly be departing immediately anyway._

The very moment they had finally, blessedly, reconnected in the middle of that gods forsaken road and he realized that he wasn’t going to lose her after all, he had wrapped the tendrils of his mind around hers like a vine, holding her tight to him, pouring his relief into her, and demanding an immediate explanation: why Noct had focused his confusion so intently on her; why his own hands, which had been made to do nothing but worship her, had turned against him; why she hadn’t been able to breathe as the goddess declared telepathic war on her; why she had refused to fight back in her own defense.

He’d understood enough of her rant to know that their powers, their identities, were too similar to exist in the same universe, but it didn’t explain why Eos had attacked her so viciously. It especially rankled that Eos had used his body against his will in an attempt to kill his own wife. Was this what the gods did? See that they had access to mortals as tools and use them for their own whims? It put Laura’s strict rules on telepathic access and warfare into sharp relief.

He felt her shudder next to him, and he leaned against the door before pulling her into his side.

“You need your blanket, too, Laura?” Prompto asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” she said into Ignis’s chest, not willing to let go of the comfort of his heated embrace.

As Prompto summoned her blanket and draped it over the two of them, Gladio turned around in the front seat to look at her. “How long you think it’s gonna be before you can use any kinda magic again?”

Laura shrugged. “A couple of days, maybe? It’s been a while since my shields were compromised and I’ve been fried this badly.”

Noct huffed out a deep sigh, and Ignis looked over the seat to see his fingers tightening against the steering wheel.

“Noct, please,” Laura pleaded. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” he muttered.

Ignis didn’t blame Noct in the slightest for his role in weakening Laura to the point of near-death, thereby undermining her ability to protect herself from the telepathic attack, as he understood all too well everything Noct was feeling. Laura had adamantly refused to allow him to see his own handprints seared into her side like a brand, insisting that she care for them herself, but it couldn’t erase the image that the discovery of them had burned into his memory.

 _I think it’s time you tell me what I said on the way down the mountain,_ she said. _Eilendil was a bit too preoccupied to pay attention._

All things considered, he’d rather not relive a single moment of that hellish experience, but if there was any chance that she could glean more from her ravings than he had, it was a necessary evil to recall his absolute terror—all those hours he’d spent wondering if he was going to lose one of the greatest sources of happiness in his life mere weeks after discovering her.

When he reached the part of her diatribe about the crime, she sat up suddenly.

“The crime!” she exclaimed. “I said ‘my crime is the same as yours’?”

“Uh, yeah, but you were sayin’ a _lot_ of things on the way down,” Prompto said.

“Remember what Gentiana said? ‘When the Warriors of Light seek the crime, Pitioss shall light the dark path of the shame of the Six.’ I’d thought the crime was that of the Six, but it sounds like the crime was Eos’s, and I’ve apparently committed the same one.”

“Uhh, what crime do you think it was?” Prompto asked hesitantly.

Laura grimaced. “I don’t know. Honestly, that could be anything, since crimes are social constructs unique to each locale. And I’ve committed a lot, some even legitimate: genocide, murder, war crimes, identity theft, grand theft, wearing the color blue during a period of national mourning, touching a member of the opposite sex on a Sunday, licking the Holy Sceptre of Garaloth VII . . .. Honestly it would probably take me a year just to sit here and list them all.”

“G—Genocide?” Prompto asked hesitantly.

“Prompto,” Ignis warned when he felt the stirrings of Laura’s melancholy that she normally hid so well from even their connection. Her cognitive resources must have been too devoted on ensuring he wasn’t feeling the mild burn that she and Eos couldn’t help but cause one another as they fled the area, as he’d yet to feel even an inkling of it since their reconnection.

But they already knew of the loss of her planet and nearly all its sentient species at her failure, even if they didn’t know the details behind it. And while Ignis was most curious to learn of them, he hardly saw the necessity for them to discuss it now—or even bring the matter up—because of Prompto’s ineffective memory.

“Well, knowing it was Eos’s crime doesn’t help us out much,” Gladio said, changing the subject for them.

“Yeah, still don’t know where Pitioss is,” Noct agreed. “And no one we’ve asked so far has heard of it.”

Prompto leaned forward, energetically slapping at Noct’s arm. “Ooh! Maybe it’s in Jared’s diary! You think?”

“It certainly wouldn’t do any harm to ask Talcott the next time we’re in Caem,” Ignis said.

“And we’ll keep askin’ around in the meantime,” Gladio said. “And . . . actually, I just remembered.” He reached under his seat and pulled out a worn [almanac](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/rIVgRUtfzFM/maxresdefault.jpg) pamphlet before handing it back to Ignis. “Picked this up for you when I was in Taelpar cause I know you like to collect ‘em when we see ‘em. Glad I did, cause it looks like it applies to what we learned back there.”

As Ignis scanned over the short article, Laura said, “Is there a complete copy of this almanac somewhere? Because that would be really, really helpful.”

Ignis shook his head. “I’ve searched every book collection in every shop we’ve come across and have thus far been unable to locate a complete copy.”

“What does it say?” Prompto asked.

“That Bahamut was the one responsible for putting Ifrit in the Rock,” Gladio said. “No mention of Eos, but it did call Ifrit a traitor.”

Ignis pursed his lips in thought. “Perhaps Ifrit was deemed a traitor for not only turning on Solheim, but also for assisting Eos.”

“But then why erase Eos from history?” Laura asked. “From my experience, you have to take sources like these with a grain of salt. The authors of history will always support their own agenda.”

“Yes, and this author seems to have used quite a number of adjectives indeed for a passionless report,” Ignis agreed. “You have my thanks for having the forethought to pick that up, Gladio. It seems we should all keep an eye out for such entries in the future.”

Laura shivered again and settled back into the crook of Ignis’s outstretched arm, breathing in his scent and rubbing an absent-minded hand over his diaphragm. He moved his arm from the back of the seat to around her shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to create some friction. He imagined that they’d been rather inappropriate with their affections this past day, particularly while they’d been on top of Ravatogh. However, this particular display was just as much for health purposes as it was for comfort, and not only had she curled up in the car before with Prompto, she had also done so with him. Still, the status of their relationship had changed drastically since last they’d done this, and he sincerely hoped they weren’t making the others uncomfortable.

As he finished relaying her abominable oration down the mountain to the car, Ignis couldn’t help but insert his own commentary. The word had simply come up too often around him, to the point where he could no longer dismiss it as coincidence, particularly after burning her so badly.

_I’m the Fire, aren’t I? The Fire that incinerates you, the Mate to the Anathema that lives or dies by your choice._

_Ignis . . .._

_The first spell I ever heard you utter, a kithairon made of fire, contained your name for me in our bonding vows—Ithīr. Even Eilendil knew I was the Fire. Have I burned you all this time, Rose? Why else would you call me that?_

_I swear to you, love, you’ve never burned me any more than Prompto or Gladio. They would have left the same marks on my skin had they been the ones to carry me down. We call you Fire because that’s the ‘lost meaning’ of your Latin name. Ignis—fire. Scientia—knowledge._

_That’s . . .. Now I wonder how much of my own personality was pre-ordained._

_I’ve always loved that about you: fire in your heart, knowledge in your mind, and that burning passion to **know**._

Honestly, he was beginning to wonder how much of his _entire life_ was pre-ordained—and he didn’t care for the evidence that seemed to stack in favor of the odds that his every action and every decision was either decided for him or forced upon him by fate or the gods. It seemed as though Rose had been his only decision thus far that had been entirely his—perhaps even against the will of whatever or whomever was responsible for pre-determining his destiny. Given how unkindly fate had treated him and those he cared for thus far, he had to admit that he took a sort of defiant pleasure in his sin. Heavens, what had become of his deference to divinity?

_You’re starting to see them, to see us, as flawed beings instead of gods._

_Well . . .,_ he pretended to contemplate, **_you_** _certainly are, anyway._

She gave him a playful mental shove, and he felt her breath blow across his neck in stuttering puffs.

 _And what of Eos? How was it left? There seemed to be an implied détente in your words at the cessation of your being actively burned,_ he said.

_It wasn’t her fault, you know. She thought I was an abomination sent to destroy what was left of her; she’s a perpetually dying, wild, infected animal down there, lashing out at anything that would bring her pain. It sounds as though it was only once I stopped Eilendil from attacking back that she started listening._

_And how is Eilendil? He has my sincerest gratitude for defending you when I couldn’t, when you wouldn’t._

_About as well-off as you. He wasn’t bleeding out, so he could keep his shields up and the pain to a minimum. But he’s still upset._

Ignis closed his eyes, wrapping the tendrils of his mind even more tightly around hers as if to hold her there with him forever. _How close did she come?_

He could tell she wanted to lie to him, to reassure him, but Prompto had relayed her words as he’d been away doing his duty. He already knew the answer.

 _I don’t know,_ she said. _Closer than I’d like._

It was closer than he would have liked, as well. There had never been a moment where he’d questioned choosing to go with Noct to the tomb over leaving her there with Prompto. He knew that her suggestion that Noct take him and Gladio was more for Noct’s benefit than his own. But there had still been a stirring of fear in his heart that he would miss being there as she passed, that there could’ve been something he would’ve been able to do that Prompto wouldn’t have thought of, that he should’ve taken her far away from that gods forsaken Rock—Royal Arm be damned. And though it would never have affected his decision, the emotion’s very existence troubled him. But he knew what it felt like now—knew how to defend against the feeling. Duty must _always_ come first.

***

A few days spent in Old Lestallum picking up hunts while Laura rested saw her fully recovered—to the point where not even a scar remained of her ordeal in Ravatogh. He’d spent his curiously increasing free time doing everything he could think of to take care of her as she’d convalesced: changing her bandages, attempting to use his more subtle healing magic on her wounds (with little success), providing her with warming nutritious meals to promote healing, performing her morning tea ritual as they ate breakfast, and even making her favorite meal—dish and chips—much to Noct’s delight. Despite her appreciating his diligent care, Ignis could tell by her increasing restlessness and irritability at his ‘coddling’ that it was time to move on, particularly when they had returned from an especially profitable hunt for three wild luekhorns to find that she had left the room and gone out to explore the town on her own.

 _I didn’t think you would leave the motel room alone. Where are you?_ he asked when they’d returned to check out of their room.

_The Crow’s Nest. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. Tell Gladio I left him some tea leaf on the dresser._

He volunteered to make the tea, pouring himself a mug of the delicate silver needles white tea and heading back outside to sit in one of the plastic chairs and wait for her.

“Look!” she said excitedly, bouncing up to him. “I was talking to Sarah over at the Crow’s Nest and found one of Oric’s pieces just outside. There’s a recipe for tomalley-filled dumplings that I think you might like.”

“Tomalley-filled dumplings?” he asked, taking the magazine from her and examining the article. “These do seem to be right up my alley.” He paused for a moment before casually remarking, “You didn’t tell me you’d left. Did you stay in town?”

Even with him suppressing his emotions from their connection, she knew his true motivations for asking, and he not only saw that familiar flash of irritation in her eyes from his early days of knowing her, he also had the privilege of feeling it in his mind.

“Hey, um . . . guys?” Prompto leaned in with a nervous wave and smile, no doubt hesitant to interrupt Laura’s glare. “We’re all checked out.”

“All right, Prom. We’re coming,” she said, softening her expression as she looked up at him.

 _One attack does not make me a damsel in distress. I don’t require supervision,_ she said in a low voice.

 _I know,_ he relented, but only partially. _But you married a caretaker, love. Protecting you, taking care of you is what I do._

She sighed as he sat behind the wheel and started the car. _All right. A compromise? I’ll try to suppress some of my nature if you try to suppress some of yours? And do try to remember that you are far more than a caretaker._

 _I shall make an attempt,_ he said, but the image of locking her in the room next time swam unbidden into his mind.

 _See that you do,_ she replied, responding with an image of her pinning him to the ground with a hand and her knees, one of his own daggers held to his throat. When he couldn’t decide whether to feel aroused or threatened by the image, she said, _Both. Definitely both._

When they arrived at the Tomb of the Tall, approaching the tomb without incident, Ignis thought for a fleeting moment that this would be a simple affair as it so rarely was, but he’d allowed himself to dare to hope too soon. The heavy stone doors were left wide open, the tomb raided, and the weapon missing. According to the note left on the King’s sarcophagus by Hunter HQ, the Royal Arm had likely been absconded with by daemons to Costlemark. He supposed the inconvenience could’ve been worse, as they were headed there regardless.

Ignis wouldn’t admit it, but he was exhausted by the time they set up camp at Oathe haven just outside Costlemark Tower. He’d been refusing Laura’s assistance these last few days in an attempt to conserve her resources and allow her to recover more quickly, much to her growing frustration. After their discussion, however, perhaps he would relent this evening and allow her to put him to sleep—take him on an adventure or two.

When they’d bonded, Ignis knew that he would always cherish having her as a constant companion, never having to be alone again. What he hadn’t anticipated was just how _much_ he would use their connection—and not just at night, but frequently during their waking hours as well. He didn’t typically consider himself a man of many words; what he said aloud was usually a helpful suggestion or a remark that escaped unsuppressed. But with their bond, it was as though their minds were one half of a lake sharing water with the other. They each noticed different things about their surroundings, each took interest in the different outlook of the other. Their daytime sharing had been a source of expression and mental stimulation that had brought him so much joy, and their nighttime adventures had been a comforting light in the dark. He’d _missed_ her terribly that day on Ravatogh, even if he could still feel her thread in his mind. And he missed her every night as he went to bed. Yes, the time for abstentions were over.

 _Thank gods,_ she said, interrupting his thoughts. _I’ve missed you too, you stubborn fool._

After dinner; some time spent on King’s Knight with Gladio, Noct, and Prompto;  balancing the books (they were doing surprisingly well, monetarily speaking); helping Laura finish the laundry; and changing into his nightclothes; she surprised him by leading him not to the tent, where the others were already asleep, but to a pallet she had made by the fire as he took his turn changing.

 _Are you still getting cold at night?_ he asked.

 _No,_ she said, gesturing toward the pallet before reaching up to kiss him sweetly on the mouth. He was about to deepen the kiss and pull her against him when she pulled away. _Uh uh, you’ve taken care of me for days now. I’ve got plans for you tonight. Lie down on your stomach, please._

He raised an eyebrow at her before complying—a reminder that whatever she was planning needed to remain appropriate for the outdoor setting and their proximity to the tent. It became apparent immediately, however, that he would be the one to have an issue maintaining decorum the moment she dug her knuckles deep into the muscles of his lower back and kneaded in tight, slow circles.

“ _Ohhh,_ ” he groaned into the pillow she’d no doubt placed there for just such a purpose. But as soon as he had a handle on himself, he shut his mouth with a click of the teeth, determined to keep quiet.

_But don’t forget to enjoy it too, yeah?_

_Oh gods, yes, Rose,_ he moaned as she moved up both sides of his spine, working each tight spot until it had unlocked and relaxed beneath her hands. _I don’t believe that will be any issue at all._

Her hands were so _warm_ as she moved up to his shoulders—so much so that he could feel it seeping through the fabric of his shirt and into his skin, and as he looked into her mind , noting her intense concentration on the anatomy of the muscles in his back, he realized that she’d been warming her hands deliberately for his pleasure. He hadn’t been aware of how tense he’d been since Ravatogh—how strained he’d felt watching over Rose as she’d recovered and leaving her behind each time they went out on a hunt.

 _The caretaker needs taking care of from time to time, too, you know,_ she said softly. _You’d be doing me a favor if you took better care of yourself._

The sarcastic remark on the tip of his tongue was replaced with his hiss of pain as she wrapped her fingers around the base of his neck and squeezed, and she sent him a wave of apology as she ran her hands over the cords in his neck soothingly before beginning again more gently. Thinking she had finished when his neck was loose and boneless, he made to sit up, but she placed a light hand on the back of his head before burying her fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp until his hair was likely a wild disarray. He shuddered at the chills it sent down his spine and the glow of affection it kindled in his bones.

 _Thank you,_ he said when she pulled her hands away. He smiled softly at her as they stood, running the very tips of his first two fingers over her lip before pulling her mouth to his briefly. _I’ve never had the pleasure of experiencing that before._

She frowned as she dismissed the blanket and pillow and led him to the tent. _You have the back of a man who has carried too much weight on his shoulders,_ she said, sorrow lacing her tone. _It’s my pleasure to soften you—and selfish of me, really. There’s just something that happens to your face when you relax and your hair comes down._ She shivered, cupping both sides of his jaw and staring up at him in wonder. _Seraphic—I meant it then, and I mean it now. I could fall into those viridian eyes of yours._

Ducking his head, still somewhat abashed by her generous praise, he mumbled, _I’m certain I have no idea what you’re talking about,_ before crouching under the tent flap and relaxing into his sleeping bag, ready to spend the evening with her.

 _But I’ll feel much better once this Costlemark business is behind us,_ he said as she settled into her own bag next to him. _These old ruins seem to do more in the way of ruining us than anything._

_Ah, that’s tomorrow’s adventure, though. Tonight, I have a surprise for you. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen you smile, and I’ve only gotten one so far._

When he met her on the bridge, he found he couldn’t contain the grin that seemed to spread over his face. He’d been looking forward to this moment all evening.

“There you are. That’s two,” she said softly, looking up at him her eyes alight with tenderness.

“So where are we going tonight?”

So far, Laura had never taken complete control over where they went on their adventures. Though he had no way of knowing what to even _know_ what to ask to see, they had developed a system where he would give her a mood word and she would present him with a list of options to choose from. His favorite adventure thus far had been when he’d asked to see infinity, and she had transported him to outer space to float weightlessly among the endless fields of stars as a swirling galaxy of sparkling orbs put on a private light show just for him. He’d never felt so humbly small yet so much like a god as he had in that timeless place as they danced amidst the cosmic dust.

It was unexpected, therefore, that her first choice of adventure was a completely empty and deserted Lestallum Market. Though he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed at her mundane choice, he knew deep down it was unlikely to remain so for long. At least she’d thought to give the place a more hospitable climate in her recollections than reality.

“Hmm. I do believe I have been to this planet before,” he mused.

“Shut up!” she laughed, hanging off his arm and looking up at him.

At the sound of her laughter, so playful and welcome after these last few wretched days, he looked down at her and smiled warmly, pleased that he’d been the one responsible for her making that sound.

“And that’s three,” she said, wrapping their forearms and entwining their fingers. “Now. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been out of any sort of coffee for a few days now.”

Grimacing, he said, “Yes. I apologize, but your tea, while a stimulating exercise in palate training, accomplishes very little in the way of perking me up.”

“Remember what I promised you before? Look again.”

When Ignis turned his eyes back to the stalls, the market had been transformed. Taking a couple of steps forward in amazement, his eyes roamed over each table, each barrel, each stall within range. And even as the breeze blew through the little square, he could smell it, practically taste it on the air.

Coffee.

Coffee beans, hot coffee, iced coffee, cold-brewed, espresso, overly-sweetened beverages that more closely resembled desserts than coffee, chocolate covered espresso beans, coffee ice cream—what seemed a countless number of coffee-themed foods and beverages packed the market, spilling over barrels, crowding the aisles, and loading the tables.

She stepped up behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing herself into his back. “This is every kind of coffee I have in my Pocket, from multiple planets, multiple universes. It’s yours to sample here as I tried them—with no caffeine buzz—and experiment with back in the real world. The flavor will be based on how my palate perceived them at the time though, so fair warning.”

“I—I don’t know what to say!” he laughed, his eyes squinting closed. Fortunately, Prompto wasn’t here in this moment to take a photo of him like this. “Again, no one has ever . . .,” he paused. “This is more coffee than I could possibly drink in a lifetime.”

“There’s four,” she said fondly, and he opened his eyes to see that she’d come around to look up at him. “Gods I’ve missed your smile. Come on, love. You’ve got a lot of coffee to try before morning.”

***

“Well, how does it compare?” Laura asked the following morning as he sat in front of the camp fire.

He blew across the top of the mug and took his second sip, letting the liquid aerate just past his lips before splashing it across his palate and around his tongue. He breathed out after he swallowed, cataloging the aromas that slid over his tongue and out his nostrils—bitter, chocolate, a hint of a floral note with sweet red berry. Already he could feel his body buzz from the caffeine he’d been desperate to consume for days now and warm him from within.

“It’s lacking the depth and intensity that your palate detects, apparently, but the general flavor profile is accurate. And of course I can’t do the chemical composition analysis as you can. However, overall, I would say this is a more than adequate substitute.”

“But more work for you to grind and percolate in the morning instead of opening a can, yeah? We’ll have to bottle some to put away so you can have fresh in the car when you need it.”

“Sounds like grounds for a celebration to me,” he said with a small smile and a raise of his mug to her.

“Sixteen. What do you want to do this morning?” she asked, looking over to where Noct and Prompto were taking on Gladio in a violent wrestling match. The standard rules of engagement seemed to have fallen by the wayside some time ago—at least, the rules Ignis knew. He didn’t recall learning such tactics as wedgies, passing gas on an opponent’s face, and hair tousling during his instruction with the Crownsguard, but then again, Gladio had taken more advanced classes than he.

“We haven’t spent much time south of the Disc; we should see what we can find in the area in the way of provisions.”

Once he’d finished his coffee and they slowly drew away from the sounds of insults and laughter, they didn’t find much—only a nest with birdbeast eggs. But he could sense Laura relaxing into a quiet walk as they wove their way through the tree trunks, her hand and mind entwined with his in quiet enjoyment of each other’s company. Every now and then, he would send her fleeting impressions of things that caught his attention: a tiny bird with a splash of red under its wing only visible as it flitted by, a pebble with a vein of green running through the center, or the way the trees seemed to groan as the wind moved through them.

They had almost completed their circle of the haven area; he wasn’t yet ready to relinquish this serenity with her, so he sat down at the base of a Duscaean pine, stretching out his legs until they tingled. He didn’t need to say a word aloud or in her mind as she sat between his knees, leaning against his chest and reveling in the feeling of his heart beating and his breath moving his body against her back. Filling his lungs with the scent of her hair until they had stretched just as much as his legs, he cast his eyes around the stunning scenery. It was odd that he had such a personal connection to this striking landscape—found it to be agreeably beautiful—and yet had never visited here in his lifetime. He wondered if His Majesty had taken into account his personality when assigning these lands to his title.

Laura gently pulled his hands apart, which were clasped around her middle, and removed his gloves, placing them in the springy grass next to them. Drawing them close to her face, she seemed to examine them closely, studying the whorls of his fingerprints and the lines of his palms.

 _Reading my future?_ he asked with amusement.

She snorted. _Hardly._

An image appeared in his mind—the perpetual, undulating motion of twisting threads of red, blue, and gold looping in on one another, devouring each other, splitting off, twisting into knots, or simply curling off into nothingness—all forming a single tube that stretched to infinity.

 _There’s so much there that I can’t process,_ she said, leaning back against his shoulder and feathering her fingers against his, which he was surprised to find set the nerves of his sensitive fingertips alight with a tickling pleasure. _I didn’t develop my time sense until after James died, and even still, the Doctor’s memories are certainly no help. He was terrible when it came to time sense. No, I was wondering about your magic._

_What about it?_

_You’re better at it than the others, besides Noct. You seem more comfortable using it, and I’ve seen you do things with it that the others can’t. You’re even able to heal me a bit. Is your magic stronger because it comes from Regis and not Noct?_

_No, if that were the case, I would have lost my access to the Crystal when His Majesty died, as the Kingsglaive did. Come to think of it, why haven’t you?_

_Regis knew I would need access for longer than his lifespan._ _The Crystal wouldn’t bond with me directly—unsurprisingly. But he and the Lucii were able to mediate a sort of . . . portal so I could access the Crystal myself._

Ignis’s eyes went wide. _Do you mean to say that you have the Power of Kings as Noct does?_

_Oh gods, no. I may be able to access its power, but it and the Lucii still despise me. I could never wield the Ring or the Royal Armiger, but the portal does allow me unfettered access to Glaive magic._

_Your mage powers,_ he confirmed.

She nodded. _And you?_

He took a moment to swat at a fly that had been buzzing around their heads since they’d sat down before responding, _I’ve always seen magic as more than the ability to throw balls at targets. I ruminated on my access to the Crystal, studying how the energy felt in my mind and body. Perhaps it has given me more insight into how I can channel that energy more myself, though my lack of royal blood prohibits me from using it as the Lucian Kings do._ _Or perhaps it’s simply innate._

She twisted so she could look up into his face. _I wonder if there’s something we can do with that, using our bond and my access to the Crystal together._

_Wouldn’t that use up too much of our mental resources and cause you pain?_

_It certainly wouldn’t be something we could use all the time, but it would be an additional tool in our arsenal should we need it. As to the pain, it wouldn’t hurt me any more than my connection already does. It may hurt_ you _though, some. You are a pureblood mortal child of Eos, so the Crystal would accept you, but your energy would be tainted with our bond._

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, parting them with his tongue and savoring the flavor of life and their bond until he felt his body begin to respond to the sensation. When he pulled away, he locked eyes with her. _Another assignment for our sparring sessions?_

 _It’s a date,_ she replied with a flirtatious grin over her shoulder, but then she sat up and moved so that she was sitting beside him, her legs crossed. _Noct is coming. I think he’s half wanting some time alone, half hoping to find us._

 _I take it he’s on a path that will lead him to us?_ She nodded, showing him Noct’s location and the tenor of his thoughts. He thought for a moment and said, _Would you mind terribly if we invite him to sit with us? It may reassure him that we, at least, consider everything back to normal._

_Of course. We should talk about something frivolous—maybe be a little playful?_

_Yes, I agree that it’s the best way to handle the situation. If he spends much longer in this mood, he’s liable to lean back on old habits. He’s been doing so well lately, and I would hate to see him regress because of something beyond his control._

“Oh, hey. Sorry you guys,” Noct said with an awkward wave as he came into view and turned to walk in another direction. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not at all. Come sit with us if you wish. Laura and I were just enjoying the forest.”

“Yeah?” he asked, stumbling a little as he changed directions again midstride before coming to sit down cross-legged in the grass across from them, leaning back against a smaller tree and facing off to the side. “Yeah, the forest is nice. Some of the trees remind me of the Citadel gardens.”

“As they should; those trees and hundreds of species of flowers were taken from all over Lucis and planted there as a symbol of the kingdom’s unity. It’s certain that some of those trees were taken from this region,” Ignis said, even though the Prince should have already known this, as often as he spent time in those gardens as a boy.

“I wish I’d received a tour of the Citadel during my brief time there. I’ve heard so much about this garden, but I never got to see it personally,” Laura said.

“I used to walk through there sometimes but never paid much attention. Usually just went there to sneak out the windows,” Noct said with a shrug, looking down at his shoes.

Ignis let out a pained groan. “So, _that’s_ how you always managed to escape. Convenient you never seemed to take that route when sneaking out with me.”

“Ahh, so you were the sneak-away sort. I was too. Used to skip school and head off to the shops with my mate Shareen. Gods, I haven’t thought of Shareen in forever,” Laura said.

Ignis glared at her, tilting his head. “And don’t get me started on _your_ education. It’s a wonder you weren’t a completely feral child.”

“Who says I wasn’t?” she asked with a smirk.

That irksome fly buzzed in his ear again, hitting his face before flying just out of reach. This perhaps would be an extreme reaction to his mild irritation at the nuisance, but it would certainly be good practice. Closing his eyes and summoning a dagger, he immersed himself in the insect’s sound, the feel of the wind on his face.

 _Are you really going to do what I think you’re going to do?_ Laura asked.

Ignis opened his eyes and found the fly immediately. Flipping the blade in his hand, he readied it just over his shoulder, waiting until the fly passed at just the right point so that his blade would bury itself safely into the tree trunk. He flicked his wrist lightly, sending the blade speeding in the tree’s direction and pinning the fly to the wood with a dull thunk.

Pride surged through him from both his side and Laura’s as he smirked down at her, but his victory was interrupted by Noct’s exclamation.

“Six, Specs are you _trying_ to kill me now?” His eyes shifted to the left, off to the side and about three feet above his head where the dagger was buried.

“Nonsense,” Ignis said, raising his chin a little and grinning. “I would miss you terribly if I’d ended up hitting you, and as you can see, my aim is impeccable.”

“Sharp as ever, Ig,” Noct said, shaking his head.

“I do hope I didn’t put you on edge. I did, after all, make it a point not to aim too closely.”

“Nah, you didn’t. Don’t want life to be too dull. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“Keen wisdom, Highness. Perhaps your mental acuity is improving under my tutelage after all.”

Noct chuckled in return, “Yeah, I’m pretty awesome like that.”

Ignis smiled in satisfaction. Every once in a while, it was a simple matter to bring that light back to the Prince’s eyes, and if it involved Ignis beating Noct at one of their favorite games, then so much the better.

 _I don’t think I’ll ever understand your relationship,_ Laura said. _But then again, I get the feeling he doesn’t understand ours, either._

_Are you implying that I am the common denominator?_

_If the shoe fits . . .._

Seeing that Noct was settling deeper into his position to fall asleep, Ignis ushered them back to the haven, where he spent much of the late morning and early afternoon studying his bestiary materials for the area before beginning supper while the sun was still high. They would be heading to bed soon to get a good afternoon’s rest before taking on Costlemark before the sun rose the next morning.

As they sat around the campfire ring, Laura regaled the entire group, as she so rarely did, with a tale of one of her misadventures with the Doctor.

“So, we’re backed against a wall, yeah? Nufin’ but stools an’ a sonic screwdriver ta protect ourselves. They’re all closin’ in on us, chantin’, ‘We must feed! We must feed!’ Suddenly, th’ lead one stops, shakes his lit’le translator thingy, and says, ‘You. If you are hungry.’ Oh gods, it was _terrifying_ while it was ‘appening, but ‘ilarious to look back on.”

“Ha! We’ve seen some scary stuff out here, but tentacle-faced aliens closing in on us? I woulda noped right outta there!” Prompto said, leaning back and slapping his knee.

“Dunno, depends on how good the grub was,” Gladio said, stabbing at his tomato and egg stir-fry.

“B’lieve me, Protein One was nufin’ compared to what Ignis makes. You’re bet’er off here.”

 _What’s the mood word for tonight, love?_ she asked as they stood to get ready for bed.

He’d been thinking about how to answer this question all day. _Something small, seemingly insignificant, but stunning._

_How does visiting the waterfalls of Bingorgia sound? The waters grow thick with bioluminescent phytoplankton that sets the water aglow at night. There’s a spa there we can go to before taking a dip._

_To say that it sounds heavenly would be an understatement,_ he said immediately, not even waiting to hear her other options. He was most certainly looking forward to the relaxing afternoon before descending into yet another pit of hell that evening.

***

“So,” Prompto said as he skipped along the path leading up to the ruined tower. “Weird building, eh guys?”

“It’s like no architecture I’ve ever seen,” Ignis admitted reluctantly. Then he added, “However, some of the design elements appear to be similar to those of Steyliff. Given that and the fact that the structure can only be accessed at night, this place is likely of Solheimian origin.”

“That can’t be good,” Noct mumbled.

Gladio grunted a laugh. “Wouldn’t wanna meet the weirdo who built this thing, ancient or not.”

“Check it out though, glow in the dark!” Prompto exclaimed in fascination, pointing up at the glowing tower.

They stopped for a moment, and Ignis craned his neck to look up at the inner structure of the tower, his eyes following one of the barred strips of red light all the way to the top.

_These are similar to the lights in Steyliff. Perhaps they share a similar source of power?_

_Or the same source,_ Laura replied. _Reminds me of these garden decorations on Earth—glass balls that would sit in the sun all day and collect energy, then glow at night. But with this lot’s obsession with the sun and immortality. . .._

 _Would that it were as innocent as a garden decoration,_ he agreed.

Once they had descended into the ruins themselves, the place opened up to become . . . well, beautiful, in a way, just as Steyliff had been. The ruin’s intricate stone tiles, towering columns, and stone ceilings were a stark contrast to the dark, cold foreboding he felt creeping up his spine. Reaching out, he could taste the now-familiar insipid essence of daemons and that golden power of Eos that had been twisted to become tainted with streaks of black and malevolence.

 _Now who’s developing synesthesia?_ she remarked slyly. _But your assessment is correct. Honestly, Ignis, I’m so proud of how far you’ve come, so fast._

For once, Ignis inwardly preened at her praise. He _had_ been doing rather well lately, with both her combat training and using his Intuition in non-combat situations such as this. He’d mastered his regenerate and virulent venom skills, and not two days ago, he’d managed to produce the first stirrings of flame from his hands to his daggers—a technique he’d decided to call sagefire in recognition of knowing himself well enough to produce such magic and for knowing his own name. But Rose was the best of the best among them, and if _she_ was impressed with his progress, then he supposed the boosting of his own ego was somewhat justified.

“Hey, found the emerald,” Gladio called out after several rooms of darkness and daemons.

“Now we just gotta find this Sword of the Tall,” Noct complained.

Laura pointed down a spiral ramp of grand stonework, surrounded by high open arches and descending deeper and deeper into the ground. “I’m betting it’s down there. You know, where it’s darker and colder.”

So they descended, down and down and down—and it only grew darker and colder, as Laura had predicted, with each daemon-infested spiral ramp. Much like in Steyliff, they came to a wide open room with a crumbling stone bridge that hovered high over a seemingly endless drop-off and led to the very central shaft of the tower, and much like in Steyliff, they were immediately set upon by daemons on both sides the moment they had reached the center.

 _Six ereshkigals and two yojimbos,_ Ignis noted as he summoned the drain lance that Cid had been kind enough to upgrade twice for him and facing one of the yojimbos. _Seems as though we aren’t the only ones expecting more from ourselves. Will you take the other one? It appears to be rather attached to Prompto._

_Will do._

Though the radiant lance or orichalcums they’d found earlier in the evening would have likely been a better choice, his drain lance was sufficient to take out his yojimbo and an ereshkigal. He could hardly lament for not being able to use weapons that hadn’t yet been cleaned and sharpened after spending Astrals only knew how long down here.

“Wait,” Laura said looking up at the ceiling when the bridge was clear. “Do you guys see that? The symbol we’ve been finding on all the [doors](https://i.imgur.com/yFFgBX0.png). Oh gods.”

“Nope,” Noct said, looking up.

Ignis sighed. “If you would all be so kind as to point your travel lights at the ceiling, please.”

As they complied and their lights caught the gold patterning to reflect it back, he inhaled sharply. The high, circular [ceiling](https://i.imgur.com/QKB5yEP.png) was covered in the symbol of immortality, over and over and over, repeating and connecting on two levels as the sun rays led straight to the glowing red center shaft like a beacon.

“This place is sucking in the light of the sun and doing something with it. Perhaps to steal Eos’s power and achieve immortality?” Laura said.  

“Could be powering this place, too,” Gladio said as they proceeded. “Maybe even Steyliff, from what you told me.”

“So the structures are closed during the day to collect energy to be powered at night,” Ignis said, thinking. “It’s certainly possible. But in regard to Eos, there’s no Solheim or Eos for the collection to take place any longer. Her mind may have enough life left to keep the sun rising, but her body is dead.”

“Automated system,” Laura replied as they made their way down another spiral ramp. “If Gladio’s right, it’s probably only collecting sunlight for power these days.”

“Hey, guys,” Noct said as he peered around the next arch, checking for danger. “It really opens up back here.”

At first, they could find no way to proceed in the large open room, and Ignis was beginning to wonder whether the sword they were searching for was hidden somewhere less obvious—until he began examining the floor. If the nature of their journey thus far had been to keep heading down, the floor was the only solution.

“Whoa, Noct—check this out!” Prompto called out as Ignis leaned over to examine what appeared to be a large puzzle piece carved from a stone square and placed into the floor.

As Noct, Laura, and Gladio joined them, the five of them stood around the square, staring at it. Ignis knew that wherever this new devilry was was hardly going to be agreeable.

“Well? May as well get this over with,” Noct told them. “Everyone step on it at once. Whatever happens, it’s happening to us all together.”

Ignis stepped on the block with the others, crossing his arms to ward off the chill and dread seeping into his bones as the block began to descend with a grinding groan of stone on stone.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s going on?!” Prompto cried out.

“Hell if I know!” Noct shot back.

To say that their destination was an unpleasant experience was a bit of an understatement, as the maze of blocks and moving platforms led them through a series of freezing, dark, claustrophobia-inducing, daemon-infested tunnels. Working in the cramped space was dangerous—the five of them crammed into each confining space with Noct’s warp-striking, Gladio’s massive thunderbolt greatsword swinging, and Prompto’s bullets ricocheting. Only his connection with Laura kept her out of his way during the frays, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to use his new fighting technique in the small space as his hearing grew less and less sensitive and his body grew weary and numb from the cold.

As far as what would happen should one of the blocks cease moving while they were trapped under thirty feet of solid stone . . . well, he tried not to think about it.

“Okay, this isn’t funny,” Noct grumbled when they’d finished with four bussemands and stepped onto the next block.

“I agree that it’s hardly a brou-haha,” Ignis drawled, “but forward is our only option.”

“I feel like we keep going in circles though,” Prompto complained, shivering.

“There is a way out of every box, a solution to every puzzle; it's just a matter of finding it. But honestly, Prom, do you own your own jacket?” Laura asked amusedly, taking off her jacket and handing it to him. “You might want to invest in one.”

Prompto dismissed his pistol long enough to shove his arms through the sleeves. “Oooh, it’s warm,” he said as he pulled the jacket close around him. “And it smells nice.”

“And ya look real pretty, too,” Gladio teased, fluttering his eyelashes.

 _How are you holding up?_ Laura asked, inserting a warm hand into his, making him wish for a moment that he didn’t have gloves on so he could feel the heat of it directly.

_I’m quite all right. I, after all, am not the one recovering from a near-fatal assault. The others may not have noticed that you’re still a bit slow on your feet, but I have._

_You’re calling me slow?!_ she asked in mock horror.

He couldn’t fault her for using humor as a mechanism to cover for her enervated state, as he’d only just done the very same. Still, he grew concerned for whatever deadly beast likely guarded the Royal Arm at the end of this passage and how she would fare. And it wasn’t just Laura; if Ignis himself felt this fatigued, what about Noct and the others?

 _Stop your fussing, love. We’re all fine,_ she said affectionately. _Remember, we have Gladio this time._

At long last, their maze of tunnels opened up into a small, circular room, which seemed only to exist for the golden circular platform in the center, surrounded by the same red-lit, carved stone columns they had seen throughout the ruins.

“Wait, definitely never been here before! All right! Take that labyrinth!” Prompto said excitedly.

“Difficult to miss the sun imagery here,” Laura muttered as they stepped onto the [golden-rayed platform](https://i.imgur.com/Wvh1Bfw.png) and Noct reached a hand out to touch the shining gold ball in the center.

“Indeed,” Ignis agreed.

In stark contrast to the hours they’d spent standing on the grinding, lurching puzzle blocks, the platform descended quickly and smoothly with an almost electronic hum.

“Well this is . . . different,” Laura noted mildly.

“Uh, guys?” Prompto asked nervously.

“So freaking creepy,” Noct agreed.

 _The architecture has changed entirely,_ Ignis said as ancient carved stone gave way to an almost futuristic-looking shaft of aged iron pipes, spinning rings of some unidentifiable metal, and that sinister red light—so bright that Ignis had to squint until his eyes adjusted after the hours spent in darkness.

 _And in the basement, too. Seems as though Solheim was hiding their darkness from someone—the gods, perhaps?_ she said.

“Well, I suppose now we know what makes this place run,” Ignis said as the platform settled into a slot in the center of a massive circular room. “And I see we have yet another grand hall before us.”

“Kinda reminds me a little of the magitek generators they have at the bases,” Prompto said in a low voice, looking up and studying the spinning turret hanging upside down from the ceiling directly above their heads.

As they stepped off the platform and Ignis craned his neck to get a better view of the [contraption](https://i.imgur.com/nFPWzl8.png), his eyes caught the flash of gold near the ceiling. “The immortality markings,” he said, gesturing with his head, “they lead directly into the device. A weapon to steal a god’s power would certainly be motivation for Ifrit to turn on Solheim. This may have been the very device to begin the Astral War.”

“Its purpose does seem clear,” Laura replied before sighing. “Our brains have always outraced our hearts. Our science charges ahead, our souls lag behind. What I don’t understand is why this is aimed at the ground.”

“It would have to if it powers Steyliff t—” Gladio started, but was interrupted by the now-familiar bone shattering percussions of giant footsteps and the deep bass of an echoing roar that made Ignis’s chest ache with the vibration.  

“Oh gods, not again,” Laura moaned softly, her eyes catching the creature responsible for the commotion on the other side of the room and her mind filling with dread and heartbreak.

 _I do not care for this civilization that uses my kin to guard its shameful secrets,_ Ignis heard Eilendil growl through Laura’s mind. _They are fortunate to be extinct that I cannot rip their spines from their flesh myself._

Ignis inspected the creature—similar to a seadevil—but enormous, with massive blue-green horns extending from its skull; short forelegs with deadly, curling claws; and stunted, heavy-looking wings. Its physiology did resemble that of a dragon, much as the quetzalcoatl had, and Ignis wondered if the two species were as sentient as Eilendil. If his experience feeling the death of the quetzalcoatl was any indication, they likely weren’t, but even Ignis felt the stirrings of regret—particularly on Eilendil’s behalf—as he summoned his drain lance to exterminate the rare and extraordinary creature.

“A jabberwock,” Ignis said to the group. “It’s weak to ice, machinery, and polearms—and can inflict petrification, so be sure to have on the proper items.”

“Any special meaning to that one, Laura?” Noct teased, summoning a polearm and grinning.

Laura shook her head gravely. “A creature from a nonsense poem written by an Earth poet. You guys take the word ‘bandersnatch’ from there too. This is beyond language theft. We’re seeping into culture now, as well.”

Ignis turned to her. He remembered well the sensation of feeling death in his mind after experiencing it secondhand in Steyliff, diminished though it was through their bond, and as the group was at a considerable advantage this time, he couldn’t allow her to participate in her current condition. She would be just as much a liability as a help. As she had already cut him off to spare him the backlash and allow him to do his duty, he spoke aloud.

“I know you abhor being coddled, but I’m afraid I must insist that you stay back from this one. We have Gladio this time, and the creature doesn’t fly or use magical attacks.” He looked to Noct for confirmation.

“If Iggy thinks you should hang back, then I agree,” Noct said with a nod.

Laura looked up at Ignis, her eyes wide and pained and her jaw twitching. He knew her well enough to know she was fighting her instinct to disregard her own health for their safety, but even she must have known that she wouldn’t be able to handle being so close in proximity when they once again killed a creature related to a species that her people shared so close a bond with—particularly with her synapses still healing.

 _Please,_ he thought to her, hoping the expression in his eyes would convey the message as he touched their bond.

She finally nodded and began backing away to the other side of the room. “You’re right.”

“All right, let’s do this,” Gladio said, summoning his sword.

Perhaps it was a testament to their burgeoning skill in practical applications of combat, but the creature was far less trouble than anticipated. The Jabberwock was cumbersome on its two hind legs, and its most vicious attack, a powerful and effective side stomp, was easily dodged by the entire party. Though Aranea had been a formidable ally to have on their team, Ignis was relieved to have Gladio back—more content than Ignis had ever seen him and swinging around that unreasonably large sword as he assisted them in watching the Prince’s sometimes reckless back.

“Careful, don’t let him get you!” Prompto called out to Gladio as the jabberwock lifted its claw to smash it down on the metal grating of the floor again.

Gladio rolled to the side and swung his sword at the beast’s leg. “Same to you,” he called back.

As Noct called on Gladio to finish the creature off, Ignis’s eyes widened at the reverberating shockwave that disrupted the metal flooring with a whoosh of air and thunder, dropping the jabberwock to the ground with a thud. It seemed as though Ignis wasn’t the only one improving his techniques in secret.

“Impressive,” Ignis remarked admiringly, raising an eyebrow.

“Fuck yeah!” Gladio called out, hoisting his sword high in the air before dismissing it.

Ignis reached out to Laura’s thread, grazing his mind against hers in an attempt to comfort her for the pain she must be feeling, even located across the expansive room as she was. It would be some time before she was feeling stable enough to open their connection again, but as his eyes caught sight of her coming toward them in the dim, he was relieved to see that the distance had allowed her to escape from retching, at the very least.

“So where’s the sword?” Noct asked.

Laura stepped up from behind Ignis, lightly brushing his arm with a hand before kneeling at the jabberwock’s pointed snout. She reached out to place a hand between the creature’s eyes, swallowing as her expression twisted in regret.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand this . . . whatever this is,” Ignis heard Noct whisper to Prompto from behind a hand, and Prompto nodded in agreement.

“Surely you don’t intend to bury the creature here in the metal floor,” Ignis protested, stepping forward. He wasn’t certain how much energy that would take, but it would no doubt require more than she had expended burying the saphyrtails in Longwythe.

“No. A dragon’s rite,” she said in a low voice before removing her hand from the jabberwock’s snout and whispering, “Angulócë ithīr.”

Silver-white flame erupted from the tips of her fingers, engulfing the creature’s body instantaneously, reducing it to ash within seconds without so much as a puff of smoke. Once the flame had disappeared and his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting once again, Ignis could make out what he assumed to be the Sword of the Tall lying across the immortality symbols that [lined the outer edges of the floor](https://i.imgur.com/xTaTEYa.png).

“Guess that answers that question,” she said as Ignis helped her to her feet.

He watched Noct closely as the sword slammed into his chest, examining his eyes for the red he’d seen when Noct gained the power of the gods, but Ignis could detect no difference in his dearest friend beyond a curious, sort of resigned expression. He wondered what went through the Prince’s mind in times such as these, but he knew that no matter how long he sat in silence by Noct’s side, he would never speak of his insights with the divine and immortal—a piece of him that Ignis could never touch that seemed to hover just a step below the divine itself. Ignis hadn’t known when he’d made the promise to His Majesty that this would be Noct’s destiny, and he wondered if it would be that very destiny that would force him to break his word. If only Ignis could do _something_ , at least assist in carrying his burdens. Until the unlikely event that Noct decided to allow them all to share the load, all Ignis could do was take care of him to the very best of his ability.

As they exited the ruins, and made their way back to the haven, Laura opened their connection once more.

 _Hello, love,_ she said, allowing him to look into her mind to see for himself that she was exhausted, but mostly all right. _I’ll definitely be sleeping all this afternoon and through the night._

 _Eat first,_ he said sternly. _Even if it’s only toast._

“So that whole thing down there was to collect solar energy, power Costlemark and Steyliff, and steal Eos’s power to get immortality?” Prompto asked.

“And Ifrit turned on Solheim for it,” Noct said with a nod.

“This is all conjecture at this point, but it appears so,” Ignis told him.

“But where does the Starscourge come into all this?” Gladio asked.

Laura shook her head. “I don’t know. I still don’t see where the scourge comes from. Perhaps draining Eos created a dark illness of some sort.”

Ignis tilted his head, thinking. “Perhaps Ifrit wasn’t the villain in all this. It appears as though he was merely saving his mother from being attacked by Solheim. But that explanation simply leaves more questions. How did their infected corpses end up at Ravatogh at the hands of Bahamut? Why did the other Astrals not side with Ifrit? Why was Eos erased from history? What was her crime?”

“We either don’t have all the information yet, or we got something wrong,” Gladio said.

 _Have you thought about where you’d like to go tonight?_ Laura asked.

“Only time will tell. Perhaps we shall discover more answers regarding Pitioss in Altissia,” Ignis replied.

_Somewhere peaceful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know the “almanac” entry isn’t really an almanac, but I’ve decided the characters should know this, so now it’s an almanac entry.
> 
> Also, another reminder that though I am pointing to “proof” in game with my links, this is not canon, as enticing as the idea would be. About 98% of these theories have been put together by other people, whom I will credit in the Pitioss chapter to avoid spoilers, but if you’d like to know them now, just send me a message.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Minor NSFW in the cooking scene and at the very, very end.

“I’m going to harvest those carrots now, I think,” Laura said as soon as Ignis had parked the Regalia at Cape Caem. “Would you mind calling Tony and have him meet me today? I’d like to get them traded before we head out tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Ignis said with a nod, glancing up at her in the rearview mirror before turning the car off.

“Thinking of taking Iris to the shore,” Gladio said as he got out of the car. “Who knows when I’ll see her after we leave? Hey Prompto, you mind if I borrow Sunny?”

“Yeah, no prob, man,” Prompto said. He hopped out of the car and danced from foot to foot, swinging his arms back and forth and cracking his neck. “Got some reading to do anyway.”

Noct raised his eyebrows in surprise before giving Prompto a playful shove. “Hey, I didn’t know you could read.”

“I’d be careful what I say about his education if I were you, Highness,” Ignis said. “You did attend the same school, after all.”

Laura scooted over the seat, shut the car door behind her, and strolled up the hill alongside Ignis as the others rushed ahead, eager to get to the house. “Will you be nearby when he comes? He’s offering to trade all sorts of things, and you’d be best for knowing what we need most.”

“Certainly. I’ll likely be assisting Dustin with clearing the larger pieces of an old wood pile that’s been rotting away on the property. I promised I would assist him when last we were here.”

“See you later then,” she said with a soft smile, and he returned it, reaching out to give her hand a brief squeeze before heading to the house to find Dustin.

They kept their minds entwined as they separated, and as Laura worked in the garden, she watched him as he spent time with Dustin, as it was a rare sight to see him interact with someone regularly outside the retinue. Ignis was relieved to be able to work with his fellow Crownsguard without embarrassing himself this time, particularly because he held Dustin in such high esteem. It was easy to see why; they had so much in common: both were often overlooked because of their reserved and humble natures, both were unwaveringly loyal to the Crown, and both were subtle in their ferocity when provoked. Ignis had sparred often with him back in Insomnia and had learned many of his more specialized skills, such as the use of poisons, from him.

 _A sort of mentor, then?_ she asked as he and Dustin hauled another tree stump down the hill.

_I suppose. One of a handful._

As she moved to the next row of the plot, Laura took in a deep breath, tasting the sea salt on the air in the heavy breeze and the fresh wave of moist soil she’d just released when she’d dug up another carrot. She so rarely got to be this person—the grower, the creator. Even when she was in a universe where she didn’t have to be the soldier, she was still the explorer, the vagabond. It seemed appropriate, therefore, that she got to have this moment of putting down some roots here in this peaceful place as she had put down her own roots with Ignis.

She sat back in the soil for a moment, snuggling into the feeling of peace she felt at the sound of the ocean waves crashing on the rocks far below her, the feel of her husband’s mind wrapped around hers, the idea that their family was all safe and relatively happy—given the circumstances. She ran her fingers through the dirt, picking up a handful and squeezing it before letting it drop back down with a satisfying thud.

 _I don’t believe I’ve ever felt you this blissful before¸_ Ignis remarked.

_Last time we were here, Gladio was leaving, and you were a mess. Everything is just . . . good, for the moment. Make sure you enjoy it too, yeah?_

_Yes, love. I’ve been taking in that sea air since we arrived._

She felt Tony’s mind arrive at the Cape just as she was finishing digging up the last row, shaking the loose soil from the orange roots and placing them in the basket she’d found nearby. As she rushed to pull up the remaining plants, she alerted Ignis before standing to greet the restauranteur.

“Hey, Laura,” Tony called out with a wave. “Heard a rumor you got me some of those carrots I been lookin’ for.”

“Yeah, a whole load of ‘em,” she replied as Ignis joined them. “How ya been? Did ya decide to move forward with that tastin’ menu idea?”

“Already implemented! And I gotta tell ya, it’s been a hit so far.”

As Laura handed the basket to Tony to count the carrots, Ignis said, “That’s most excellent news indeed. We’ll have to visit your establishment when next we’re in the area.”

“You do that, and we’ll be sure ta take real good care of ya,” Tony said with a nod. “All right, here’s what I got to barter. These look amazin’! So much bigger than what we usually get. How’d ya do it?”

As Ignis carefully inspected everything available, Laura gave Tony a sly smile. “Trade secret, sorry.” It wasn’t as though he’d be able to replicate the imprint a Lliamérian left on the soil when planting; she was created to grow things, despite how few opportunities she’d had in her life to do so. Growing up in London, she had hardly been the sort to find the idea of gardening particularly interesting. But those first two hundred years she’d spent in Palomia, singing Therinal into her home and learning how to use the magic she’d apparently been born with, would have been the epitome of her existence had it not all been a façade and a prelude to death.

“The weapons will be of most use to us,” Ignis finally said. “And it appears as though they are upgradable. As much as I loathe adding more to Cid’s already prodigious work schedule, he may be able to improve some of these before we leave.”

“Sure thing,” Tony said. “Take ‘em all. And tell ya what—since these are so good, pick ya out one more thing.”

“Hey, that’s really generous of you. Thanks, Tony,” Laura said with a bright smile.

Ignis tilted his head at the remaining wares, pretending to think, but she could tell by the way his attention kept darting to the same place and the restlessness in his mind that he’d already picked something out and was trying not to seem too eager or rude.

“If you’re certain . . .,” he said carefully. “That’s very kind of you.” He reached for a bright red berry sitting on top of a pile in a wooden quart basket, stopping just short of touching it. “Would you mind?”

“Nah, go ahead and try it. Just got those in all the way from Tenebrae, believe it or not. Hard to get imported goods these days, what with the Empire’s blockades in Galdin and all, but managed to get ahold of these. Ulwaat berries, they’re called.”

Ignis shot her a look. _You don’t think . . .._

_I have no idea, but get them anyway and try. We don’t need anything else he’s offering, and if you save me one, I can put it in the Pocket and grow more if they turn out to be what you’re looking for._

He held the small red berry up to his nose and sniffed delicately before holding it out for her to smell—floral, sweet, and tart all at the same time.

 _Reminds me of a raspberry, but more exotic_ , she said.

_We don’t have those here. But these taste much as they smell. I believe I’ll get them, unless there’s something you wanted for yourself?_

_Like what?_ she snorted. _A sticker that looks eerily like you? I don’t even want to know what he’s doing with that._

As Laura needed to start a batch of loaves to finish off before they left, and Ignis was eager to try out the new berries immediately, they thanked Tony for his generosity and made their way to the house.

 _Do you ever notice that we’ve spent more time in the kitchen than anywhere else on the Cape?_ he asked.

_Well, it’s a rare opportunity that we have one large enough for the two of us to work, but yes, I’ve always thought you cook too much for a man of such varied interests._

She felt his mind grow somewhat hesitant as he said, _I have a confession to make. I was . . . somewhat ambivalent about cooking before I left Insomnia._

That didn’t surprise her, honestly. Those first few days on the road, she could feel the loneliness radiating off him every time he went off to his kitchen area, brushing aside Prompto’s and her offers to help out of politeness, so she’d made it a point to follow him anyway and keep him company, perhaps lighten the load a bit when he would let her, though it took some elbowing to get him to acquiesce. As he’d been so much busier back in Insomnia, she imagined that shopping and cooking had been merely another source of work for him to do—alone. Noct hardly seemed the type to take interest in a new flavor profile or ingredient, which is what seemed to excite him most, so she had joined in his fascination by exploring all the regional ingredients new to the both of them, discussing how they could be used in dishes, and, once he’d come to know the truth about her, introducing some popular flavor combinations from other planets. The food was definitely one of the perks of traveling, after all.

 _It’s always made him happy,_ he continued, looking up at the house. _No matter how irritated he would get with me, it was the one thing he always seemed to appreciate. But now, traveling like this and getting to try all these new ingredients, I’m finding the ritual of it to be simultaneously stimulating and relaxing._

“Hey, Prom,” Laura said as Ignis shut the front door behind them. “You busy?”

_If you truly do enjoy it, maybe we’ll have to spend some more time experimenting with what I have in my Pocket then._

_Perhaps only those from the places we’ve visited together. Ingredients without the cultural context seems—_

“Just reading up on some stuff,” Prompto said with a shrug, leaning back on the couch to look at them. “Cindy sent me all these books I can read on my phone.”

“Well, if you’d like to take the opportunity to get some practical practice in, might I suggest you take these to Cid and offer your services?” Ignis asked, summoning the weapons they’d just bartered for.

“Uhh . . . yeah, no prob,” he said reluctantly, his mind coloring with unease, but he stood and gathered everything Ignis had laid on the table. “Gonna be real fun asking him to do all these before tomorrow.”

“We all must make sacrifices for the greater good. You may have to forfeit a limb or two, but with any luck, your offer to help will soften the blow.”

“I sure hope so! Come check on me if I don’t show for dinner . . . see if I’m still alive,” he said, trying to wave but nearly dropping the absorb shield in the process.

“He knows he can just dismiss those, right?” Laura realized after he’d gone. “Poor Prom. I don’t envy him. I thought I could charm anyone until I met Cid.”  

Seemingly on autopilot, Ignis summoned the ingredients and tools for the pastry.

“You may have managed to charm him more than he’s letting on,” he said amusedly as he measured the flour and dumped it into a bowl.

“Of course you know the recipe by heart,” she said as he put in the remaining ingredients and began to mix the dough.

“I should hope so; I _have_ made this recipe at least twice a week for over a decade.”

As she took out her own levain and mix of rye and bread flours, her awareness couldn’t help but wander to him as he worked—the cords of his neck pulling tight and the muscles of his jaw tensing as he pressed the spoon down into the dough, his beautifully elegant hands that she so rarely got to see bare, the tendons in his arms pulling and relaxing, his furrowed brow and intense expression, and even his stance as he moved. And his mind—she wasn’t surprised to find when they’d bonded that his mind _never_ stopped, but watching him stir as he planned how much sugar would be best in the berry mixture, the best way to integrate the timing of making dinner for so many people alongside his current project, what mood word he should choose for this evening, how long it would be before they could find some time alone together, and whether or not he should stay up late this evening to study his resources on Altissia, she found that she adored the constant, wandering chatter in her head—loved the organized chaos of his beautiful mind and the pleasure of his company. God, she was in love with him, and she had it bad. Even when he irritated her with his tendency to hover, she knew it was only because of the heart she’d fallen in love with.

 _It will never cease to amaze me that a woman as experienced as yourself can find something as mundane as me mixing dough stirring,_ he remarked casually, not looking up at her, but she saw the corner of his lips quirk up into a small smile.

As the autolyze phase of her mix seemed to be finished, she added a little more water, her levain, and some salt and began mixing roughly with her hands, tearing into the gooey dough.

 _What can I say? As beautiful a man as you are? It’s as though you were tailor-made to be my fantasy._ When pink stained the very tops of his cheeks at her words, she continued, _Yep, that too. Gods damn._

He placed the dough in the fridge to chill before pulling out the quart of berries, handing one to her to put away in her Pocket, and dumping them into a bowl to wash. _If that’s your reaction to mixing, I’m not sure I would survive your reaction to kneading dough, or gods forbid, laminating._

 _Got some dough right here if you want to find out for yourself,_ she said, shooting him a flirtatious grin before sending him an image of him leaning back on his elbows against the very counter he was currently standing against, his eyes squeezed tight and his head thrown back as she kneeled on the floor in front of him, her tongue dragging over the tip of his wet cock. Gods, how she missed him. Between the gods awful handprints and his overprotectiveness, they hadn’t been together since before Ravatogh, and they were both beginning to feel the effects.

Her timing was perfect, as ever, because right as Ignis dropped the saucepan he was holding to the counter with a clatter, his cheeks flaming and his eyes darkening, Noct had decided to come out of the bedroom upstairs and look over the landing.

“What is it about you and Caem, Specs?” he asked as he descended the stairs.

 _Perfect timing, love,_ he said, pressing himself up against the counter. _He was only just beginning not to watch me like a child._

 _I’m sorry,_ she replied with regret. _He only started moving as I was sending it to you. He must’ve been on the couch right next to the door._

“Am I not permitted a mistake now and then? After all, even the gods aren’t infallible,” he replied, somehow managing to keep the embarrassment at being caught out of his tone as he shot her a look.

“So you’re making the pastries again?” Noct asked. “Haven’t had ‘em in a while.”

“Apologies, but they’re somewhat difficult to make without the proper equipment. I’m looking forward to sampling these though, I believe I may have made a breakthrough.”

“Cool. Lookin’ forward to it,” he mumbled, flopping on his back into the couch cushions. “Gotta start thinking about heading out tomorrow I guess.”

“Yes, which means you should pack the things you left behind last time and clean your side of the bedroom of your clutter. Seeing as how you’re likely to punctuate that with several games of King’s Knight, I expect it should take you most of the day.”

Noct heaved a dramatic sigh, got up off the couch, and trudged back upstairs, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

 _He still seems . . . off today,_ Ignis said, frowning up to the door where he’d disappeared. _Perhaps I shouldn’t have sent him back upstairs. You wouldn’t happen to have any insights, would you?_

_Remember? I can’t tell any more than you can by looking at his face. You probably get more from him than I do, actually, since you know him so well._

As she set the dough aside for its first rise, Laura pulled out Lucian tomatoes, Leiden potatoes, chocobeans, Saxham rice, Eos peas, and wild onion to begin prepping so they could replenish their store of pre-made meals, which had turned out to be an incredible timesaver for them both while they were on the road, even if he still often pulled out his kitchen equipment to supplement what they’d already made. He was still finding ways to keep himself busier than anyone, and she could respect that because it made him who he was—a man who would always look for ways to improve himself no matter how much free time he was given, even if it was simply improving his mind by relaxing with a book. But at least he was beginning to find the time to do things _he_ enjoyed.

It had been spellbinding, watching him slowly come into his own since he’d left Insomnia—transforming from the harried, lonely, inwardly timid but outwardly self-assured servant into this more confident, calmer, sarcastic adventurer. And as much as he wanted to give her full credit for the change in his mood and behavior as of late, she knew it had everything to do with his hard work, perseverance, and the recognition and assistance of the others. This had all been his choice; she’d been so very careful to ensure that everything was his choice so he could become who _he_ wanted to be and not who he thought she wanted him to be. It _was_ amusing, however, to see how appalled he often was to discover just how irreverent he was beneath the façade he’d cultivated his entire life.

But watching him as he prepared the shells for baking and inwardly fretted over how he’d handled Noct’s mysterious melancholia, she was reminded that people didn’t simply change and never look back to their old habits. Even she experienced her own regressions still, after all these years. It seemed that not only was Noct’s apathy beginning to make a reappearance, Ignis’s self-doubt was beginning to show as a result, and she was at a loss for what to do for the both of them. She never could get Noct to talk as Ignis had always been able to, and they hadn’t yet reached a point where he needed a good ass kicking.

‘Wait and see’ it was, then.

***

Ignis placed the finished [tarts](https://cooking--with--ignis.tumblr.com/post/161471818973/antosenpai-i-made-the-memory-lane-pastry-from) on the dining room table.

“I hope you’re prepared for them to scarf those down the moment they appear, because that’s exactly what’s going to happen if you leave those there,” she said as she pointed with a flour covered hand.

He frowned. “Good point,” he said, placing them on the shelf above the kitchen sink.

“You always have to treat boys as though they’re wild dogs. If you leave food out, they’re going to inhale it as soon as they see it.”

His frown deepened as she felt an undercurrent of disquiet at her description of someone so close to his own age as ‘boy.’ “I’m not that much older than Noct and Prompto are, you know, and I’m younger than Gladio.”

She sent him a wave of reassurance as he took the enormous pot of rice off the heat and reached for a spoon to stir the soup. “I was speaking spiritually, not physically.” _Your soul is as old as the world._

“Hmm,” he replied noncommittally. _I’m not certain if that would be a positive or negative attribute._

_You know my feelings on the matter. The four of you are all extraordinary men, but your soul, that mind and heart combined, is what drew me to you. Even your accent, if I understand the sociophonetic rules of your society, reflects your age beyond your years._

_My elocution mostly stems from my education, but ultimately, it was a personal choice to take the accent of the older generations. I find I prefer the sound of it. Its formality suits me._

_My point, dearest._

He had moved back to his butcher station next to the sink, where all varieties of meat were in various stages of being cut into fingers, cubes, steaks, and chops. “I believe the rice should be ready by now. Would you mind packing it for me?”

“One step ahead of you,” she replied as she spooned another heap of rice into a bowl. Once she had the entire pot packed into bowls that would serve the five of them, she dismissed them into her Pocket. “Opening the oven,” she warned before pulling out four trays of roasted vegetables.

“Wow, we having all of Lucis over for dinner?” Noct asked, coming downstairs.

Ignis studied him for a moment with narrowed eyes, assessing what sort of mood the Prince might be in and how to best handle it. Laura could practically feel him bite back the sarcastic remark he wanted to make in favor of, “No, Highness, merely replenishing our store of premade meals.”

“Cool,” he said disinterestedly as he approached the kitchen, leaning over the counter to eye the tarts Ignis had placed over the sink.

“We’ll be eating soon,” Ignis said gently. “When Gladio and Iris return, and the others come down from the lighthouse.”

“How’s the cleaning going up there?” she asked, packing up the roasted vegetables and hoping that he wasn’t going to answer how she thought he was going to answer.

“I’m gonna . . . take care of it later.”

Ignis sighed in disappointment. She despised the sound of his sighing, especially now that they were bonded and could clearly feel the exasperation and resignation emanating from him.

“Which means I’ll have to take care of it myself this evening.”

Noct gave a one-shouldered shrug, and that was the moment when Laura had to step in—the haze of anger nearly clouding her vision demanded it at that point. This relationship was sacred to her husband, she knew—the foundation of his very life. Noct would always come first and she understood that, but she would be damned if she was going to let Noct take advantage of his selfless heart—because she had sworn when he was nine years old to protect Ignis—from saphyrtails and Princes alike, if necessary. And it wasn’t just Ignis that suffered from this cycle of enabling. Noct was in danger from this behavior as well, even if it was only a minor step in that direction, and her _other_ oath, the one to Regis, was in jeopardy.

She dropped the spoon on the counter and turned to Ignis. “You’ll do no such thing!” Before Ignis could even throw a mental reaction at her outburst, she rounded on Noct, whose eyes went wide. She narrowed her own at him in return, leaning into his face before saying in a low, threatening tone, “Do you remember the promise you made me that day? Have you even asked Gladio about his books yet? Do you remember how I told you that I would hold you to your word?”

Noct’s mouth dropped open, and she could tell that he wanted to argue, if only to cover for the embarrassment for being called out in front of Ignis, and now Gladio, Iris, and Talcott, who had just walked through the front door without noticing just what they’d interrupted, pushing aside the tension in the room with raucous chatter about a seabird that had pooped on Gladio’s shoulder. Noct’s attention shifted to just above her shoulder, likely to where Ignis stood behind her, glaring daggers at her back.

Remorse. Heartbreak. Anguish. Laura may not have had access to his mind to see what he was thinking, but that image of Ignis’s back, defiled by violence because of Noct’s existence, might as well have been a shout in the room. Or perhaps it was that image of him standing in front of the camp stove, stock still with his jaw clenched, standing so very bravely for the punishment he felt he deserved. If the stillness of Ignis’s mind at this very moment were any indication, his current posture was likely similar to that soul killing moment, save for the glare.

“Yeah,” Noct nearly whispered, and without another word, he turned and went back up the stairs, his steps clipped and his stare wide and blank.

Laura closed her eyes for a moment, not quite ready to face whatever emotion she’d just evoked in Ignis—particularly since she had every intention of standing her ground and defending what she’d done. They all might have been doing better to ease the number of tasks he had to do each day, but this blatant disrespect for him as a person, no matter how much Noct was suffering, was unacceptable. Ignis had been upset after Ravatogh for the very same reasons Noct had been, but being used by fate had manifested as the increased desire to serve, the increased desire to take care, and he was just as vulnerable as Noct at the moment.

Noct was likely too socially unaware to realize, but his behavior was causing Ignis even more anxiety, entrenching him once again into that cycle of fretting and submissiveness that she’d worked so hard to release him from. He’d give all of himself until there was nothing left, until he was so exhausted that it killed him out here in the wild, and for what? As much as she would be heartbroken, he could sacrifice himself for Noct if necessary to ensure he made it to the end of this, but not for something as frivolous as his temporary and mercurial happiness—if it could even be considered happiness to allow Noct to wallow like this. Did Ignis still have so little self-worth that he saw that as an acceptable price to pay?

“Uh, everything okay?” Gladio asked.

He, Iris, and Talcott were standing near the closest end of the dining room table, staring in shock around the kitchen cabinets at them. Judging by the way Iris’s eyes kept flickering between the landing upstairs and Laura, they had likely all noticed Noct’s heavy footsteps and blank expression as he’d left.

“Yeah, babe, everything’s fine,” she said with a gentle smile, but Gladio’s eyes snapped behind her, much as Noct had done. She wondered just how threatening Ignis looked back there, given the expressions on everyone’s faces.

“Hey, Talcott,” Iris said, looking down at him. “Why don’t you show us those new cactuars Noct brought you? I want to see them with your whole collection.”

“Really?” Talcott asked, his expression brightening. “They’re in my room.”

Gladio squinted at Laura and Ignis before saying, “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Let’s go, squirt.”

They had closed the door to the hall behind them before Ignis spoke aloud, and it was only then that she realized he hadn’t merely gone still, he’d cut her off from their bond.

“Would you care to tell me what that was about?” he asked softly, carefully.

Laura sighed. “I have very little patience for anyone who takes advantage of someone with a better work ethic, especially considering at what cost you received yours. He’s a twenty-year-old man; he can’t keep using you to escape his responsibilities.”

She knew that he understood the deeper meaning in her words, just as well as she knew that he would take Noct’s place in the prophecy if he could. But he couldn’t, just as she couldn’t, and they all needed to be prepared for that, even if she wasn’t certain if any of them knew how this ended.

He remained motionless, likely still staring at her back. “It’s my responsibility to—”

“—to be his chamberlain, not his chambermaid.”

“It seems I was wrong,” he remarked coldly. “You don’t understand my duties to the Crown. I would have thought you, of all people, would understand that I cannot ever choose you over him.”

She rounded on him then, finally taking in his hard emerald eyes, his tight jaw, his clenched fists. But he had stirred her ire as well, and she glared up at him with her own threatening expression.

“Don’t you dare accuse me of not understanding what must be done after the Glacial Grotto, after Ravatogh. I’m not asking you not to protect him. I’m not even asking you to stop mothering him because I know it’s how you express that bond you share.” She nodded to the tarts, still sitting on the counter. “I’m asking _him_ to think about someone else for a change, to remember that as a king and as a savior to this world, he needs to develop a keener sense of empathy. He needs to _feel_ , Ignis, and he needs to face his responsibilities.”

“And that somehow involves the relinquishment of my responsibilities?” he asked, raising his chin and looking down at her from that lofty perch of superiority. She’d be proud of him if she weren’t so angry.

“You’re not safe at home anymore; you need to let each other go just enough to learn who you are without one another. Caring about you enough to pick up after himself is a small step, but an important one.”

“I promised the King as a child I would always take care of him.”

“And I promised the King as an adult that I would prepare him for fulfilling this prophecy. Your enabling him to forget his responsibilities and wallow in self-pity is holding him back. While your vow may be older, the consequences of failing mine are far more devastating. Surely you must see the logic in that.”

When he remained silent at her words, she knew that she was gaining ground on him by appealing to his more dominant calculating side, but she took no pleasure in the victory. This was hurting him—hurting both him and Noct, and whether for the greater good or not, she would always despise causing them pain. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

“I know these prophecies so well, Ignis,” she said softly. “and I’ve already told you they don’t come down to how good he is with a sword. They’ll come down to his heart and will, and he needs to feel for something other than his own plight in order to do that—to take charge, to take responsibility, to love his people enough to face his destiny head-on. And no matter how much you love him, you can’t do it for him.”

He straightened so he was even taller than before, looking down at her with those cold green eyes and that haughty expression she hadn’t seen in weeks, had never seen on him to this degree, and she prepared herself for whatever lance she knew he was readying behind that expression.

His tone was calm and melodious as he responded, which he must have known would only serve to deliver the blow to her hearts more effectively. “And why should we listen to a word you have to say? You killed your people, even your own bond partner, did you not?”

And there it was. She couldn’t help but gasp as the pain flooded her chest, sharpened all the more by the fact that he had been the source of it. The stabbing intensity pierced through her until she felt the tears pooling in her eyes, and she looked up at the ceiling, refusing to let them fall in front of him. Deep down, she knew he was lashing out at her threatening everything he was—everything he’d endured to become who he was to Noctis. But he shouldn’t have had the ability to affect her like this; she was old enough to have a better handle on her own emotions than this, surely. She needed to get out of there before they both broke something.

“Rose,” he gasped, opening their connection, but she couldn’t look at him.

She felt a split second of horror and remorse before slamming the wall up on her own side. That instinct to lash out was there, building inside her, but she’d _never_ use it against him. So it sat, disconnected from her agency and only serving to deepen the wound he’d just created. He knew her well enough to know exactly which artery to slice open to cause the most effective damage, just as he did in a hunt, and the shock that he would ever be purposefully cruel enough to use his knowledge of her, on her, was still making her feel breathless and shaky.

“Rose, please,” he implored, holding out his hands in gentle supplication, and she looked directly into his face for the first time since he’d spoken his abominable utterance. He’d gone white, his chiseled features softening once more into the man she knew, her bondmate. “Please, please forgive me. I can’t . . . I can’t believe I said that. Rose.”

He took a step forward, his hands raised to pull her to him, but she threw a hand up to stop him. Of course, she’d already forgiven him and always would, but she was still a blade right now and would cut him for certain if he tried to hold her. It was time to leave—find a quiet place somewhere to simmer down for a bit before coming back to finish this calmly.

But his reaction to her hand pulled her out of her haze. He froze suddenly, his hands dropping stiffly to his sides. His lips twitched a little before he bowed his head in submission and contrition, and by the light of the fucking stars, she could have sworn she saw the words ‘Your Majesty’ in the shape of them before she lost sight of his expression.

No.

“Ignis,” she entreated softly, sheathing her own pain, stepping up against him, and looking up at him, but his eyes were closed and his expression still tense. Reaching up, she cupped his face with a hand and ran her thumb soothingly along his high cheekbone, and he leaned into her touch, nuzzling her hand a little as his brow furrowed in sorrow.

“Please, forgive me. I . . . seem to have forgotten to whom I was speaking,” he murmured, his eyes still closed.

_I certainly hope you mean your wife, because that’s the only person I’ll ever be to you. Equals, Ignis—always._

_Rose,_ he moaned before leaning down to bury his face in her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her.

Laura slid her hand around to the back of his neck, toying with the soft feathering of his hair. _We’re not always going to agree, love, and that’s all right._

_That’s no excuse for my appalling behavior._

_Well, I won’t lie and say that I appreciated your words, but I did attack the very foundation of what makes you who you are. Understandable that you should aim for an enemy’s jugular in such a case, so I’d say I deserved it._

_You are **not** my enemy, _ he said, pulling back enough to gaze down at her, his face still twisted in remorse. _I’m so sorry. Please tell me I haven’t broken anything._

“Hey guys!” Prompto called out as the front door opened, and Laura could feel the minds of Dustin, Monica, and even Cid enter the house with him. She really needed to learn to pay more attention to their surroundings in situations like this. “Managed to get everyone up here for dinner!”

She stepped back from Ignis, turning back to the counter to finish scoring and dusting the loaves before the others came around the kitchen island to see them. Noct, who had heard the commotion from upstairs, placed a hand on the railing and looked down at her with a single, solemn nod.  

 _Never,_ she replied, nodding back up at Noct.

Working together, they got the table set and everyone seated: Cid, Dustin, Monica, Talcott, Iris, Prompto, Gladio, Noct, and the two of them. To their surprise, even Cor had showed up to see them off, so they laid an extra place setting at the table for him as he sat down. Ignis had, of course, gone all out—making karlabos cream croquettes, fisherman’s favorite paella, and a fresh summer tomato salad for the enormous group. Ignis and Laura remained mostly silent during dinner, allowing the conversation to flow around them, participating when asked a direct question, and finding solace in the comforting embrace of their family and each other’s minds after their stressful encounter. It wasn’t long, however, before the topic turned to war.

“Damn Nifs are on the move agin. Dunno wut they’re up to, but it ain’t nothin’ good,” Cid grumbled before shoveling the last bite of paella into his mouth and pushing his plate away.

“They’ve been leaving Insomnia in shifts, headed for Galdin for days now,” Cor said, leaning back into his chair. “Now they’ve gotten what they wanted, they have no reason to stay and help the people. It’s been all the Glaive and Guard can do to keep everyone from panicking and the daemons to a minimum at night.”

Prompto grimaced. “Yeah, I guess all the areas where the light’s not restored yet, the city’s not really made for protecting people.”

“Are there . . . many people left in the city?” Noct asked quietly.

“Many fled in the initial attack,” Monica said. “Otherwise an area of that size and population would be unmanageable.”

“So you heading up the Glaive and Guard now?” Gladio asked Cor.

Cor nodded. “Until you get back. There’s still a tomb to visit and blessings to receive on the other continents.”

“Oh hey, speaking of tombs,” Prompto said, turning to Talcott. “You ever read anythin’ about a place called Pitioss in your grandpa’s diary?”

Talcott furrowed his brow and shook his head. “I’ve read it a hundred times, but I don’t remember seeing anything about Pitioss. I’ll look again later. Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s all right, buddy. Just thought we’d check. Seems the sorta thing he’d know about.”

“Ain’t never hearda sucha place,” Cid said, and Cor, Dustin, and Monica nodded in agreement. “Reggie never wint there, anyway.”

“Now is not the time for distractions,” Cor said sternly.

Laura had a feeling that Pitioss was far more than a mere distraction, given all they’d learned so far. It seemed to be tied into everything they did; even the message itself had come indirectly from their gods. As much as she hated to pull rank on someone in their own world, this was too important to ignore.

“Our mission is different from that of Regis’s,” she reminded him, using the King’s first name as she had back in Insomnia to subtly point out that though he didn’t know who or what she was, Regis’s permission to address him in such a familiar manner implied that she was more than what she seemed. “Please alert all your contacts that we’re searching for it.”

Cor bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Yes, My Lady.”

 _You should tell them your title, at the very least. The Marshal would not be pleased to know he was addressing you incorrectly,_ Ignis said, surreptitiously placing a hand on her knee under the table.

_You mean as he does for you? As he did for Clarus? Gladio? Honestly, he could address me by the title ‘asshole’ and I wouldn’t care as long as he did as I asked._

Choosing to ignore the vulgarity of her statement, he said, _I don’t recall ever discussing my title with you._

Laura stood and started collecting the plates around her. “Everyone stay seated; Ignis made dessert as well.”

As he stood to help her clear the table, she said, _Yes, and don’t think I haven’t noticed that. Even Monica called you ‘Mr. Scientia’ the last time we were here. But I realized the other day as you were surveying your domain outside Costlemark that of course you and Gladio would be titled._

 _Mine is not inherited, as his is. The Duke of Myrl is an old and powerful title indeed. No, I requested mine be kept quiet until Noct’s ascension,_ he said in a clipped tone, and Laura immediately backed off, sensing a sore spot.

 _Apologies,_ he said gently as he put the dishes in the sink and took a stack of plates out from the cabinet. He paused for a moment to catch her eyes with his gaze. _I prefer not to discuss it with most people, but then again, you aren’t most people, are you?_

 _Tonight? I’ll tell you about Miriásia. Perhaps then you’ll understand my own relationship with Noct better. You tell me about your title—if you like._ He sighed, and she found she hated that sound even more when she was the source of it. _You don’t have to, you know. I’ll tell you about Miriásia regardless._

_You’re my wife. You deserve to know. Only it seems tonight’s theme will be reminiscing, and not the pleasant kind._

_We can’t always be flowers and rainbows—as much as we wish for it to be otherwise. But as eager as I am to know you, you shouldn’t feel obligated._

Laura went around the table, handing each person a plate as Ignis came around behind and had them take a tart from the serving tray. He placed a tart on his and Laura’s plates before taking his seat next to Noct, looking over at him in anticipation.  

“They smell familiar . . .,” Noct said quietly as he picked the tart up and inspected it, and Ignis’s face seemed glow with hope.

“I’m goin’ in for a bite now. Look out, stomach!” Prompto cheered before leaning in to take an enormous bite, covering his top lip in powdered sugar.

Laura leaned in to take a bite of the little pastry, savoring the way the ratio of chewy crust to tart berry to sweet custard was balanced perfectly so as to harmonize the three flavors.

_I don’t know if you’ve done what you’ve set out to do for Noct, but these are absolutely lovely. They remind me of berry cheesecake crossed with pie crossed with tiramisu. Yet that Ulwaat adds such a beautiful floral note._

“Damn fine job ya did here, son,” Cid said with a nod, and the others murmured their agreement.

Ignis ducked his head. “They could likely do with some improvement, but you have my gratitude, nevertheless.”

 _I believe we had better in Paris,_ he said, casting his attention to the side to watch Noct, who was still chewing on his first bite in silence with his eyes closed.

_Rubbish. You could easily be a pastry chef at any fine-dining establishment on Eos, and you know it._

“Better than I remember,” Noct whispered, and Laura’s hearts flooded with tenderness at the way Ignis seemed to have gone nearly breathless with the compliment. When Noct opened his eyes, they were bright and almost idolizing. “Thanks, Iggy.”

Ignis swallowed and inclined his head. “The pleasure is mine, Highness.”

Noct lowered his voice so he wouldn’t be noticed over the sound of the others talking. “No, really. Everything you do for us. It . . . it means a lot . . . you know, to me.”

Ignis sat for a moment, his mind still with awe. Love and duty: sometimes they could be irrevocably entwined to the point where the two became so inseparable that one couldn’t tell which action was being taken for which reason. Sometimes, however, it was only too easy.

“You are most welcome, Noct—always.”

Noct took another bite and chuckled, reaching out to punch Ignis’s shoulder. “Guess that means you’re off the hook now for making these,” he said after he’d swallowed.

“Aww, really?” Prompto complained. “I’ve kinda liked getting these.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Ignis said airily. “There’s some tweaking that could be done; the sweetener, the custard, even the crust could use some attention.”

“Yeah?” Noct asked, a crooked grin lighting up his expression.

“Most certainly.”

***

“Oh, my word,” he said in awe. “It’s _beautiful._ ”

“If you don’t mind, I don’t think I could bear to show you the battles. I thought perhaps you’d like to see the city though, as I tell you.”

He looked down at her words, frowning. “Are you all right to be here?”

She shrugged. “More or less. I’ve been back since it happened.”

There was no way in hell she could show him the details of what had happened—the ruthlessness, the blood, the diseased corpses left to rot where they’d fallen, like puppets with cut strings. It was difficult enough as it was, standing here on the main thoroughfare in Lliaméra. As Ignis looked back up, his eyes widening and his neck craning to see the forest canopy over a thousand feet above his head, Laura tried to see it as he did, as she had when she’d first arrived—so very heartbroken and damaged after James’s death.

But this was where she’d spent her last few days in that universe as the last of her people succumbed to the disease, rushing back and forth as she desperately tried to make each of them as comfortable as possible before their inevitable passing. She tried not to remember the expression on their faces as the hemorrhagic fever set in, as they glared at her in pain, despair, hatred, disappointment. The freak of nature they had entrusted their lives to for hundreds of years had let them down even more thoroughly than they’d expected her to.

Until there was no one left but the Arkhein trees and Eilendil. And then only the Arkhein.

She didn’t populate the city with her dead subjects walking the streets as she would often do with tourists when they traveled to other planets; it would have been too macabre for her to handle. But, for Ignis, she filled the air with the songs of art, music, and growing they used to sing as they wove their power into paintings, metalwork, food, and trees alike.

Ignis leaned in toward her ear, his eyes still roaming over the towering coniferous trees, so much larger than any tree she’d ever seen in Lucis; the filtered green light; the plummeting gorges with living bridges of intricately woven tree branches; and the little huts and grand mansions sung into shape directly from the living trunks. His voice was soft and reverent, as though he were in a sacred cathedral, when he spoke.

“As you know, I spent my entire life in Insomnia until we left. I used to sit in the garden at the Citadel and dream of seeing a real forest. We’d all been trapped behind that wall for so long, increasing in population, that there wasn’t much space to breathe among the cars and concrete. I was beginning to feel as though I were suffocating under that dome.” He shook his head. “This? It couldn’t be more distinct from where I spent my life. It’s breathtaking, Rose.”

Running her fingers down his forearm and taking his hand, she said, “Come with me.”

She led him to the deep canyon running through the middle of the packed dirt road, which was bridged by a stone arch decorated with polished rails of living wood. He paused for a moment when a [patched kitlear](https://i.imgur.com/Yz1JfXf.jpg) approached him, tilting his head for a moment at the little calico antlered cat-like creature before gazing at her questioningly.

“Go ahead and pet her,” she said, nodding to the kitlear, and he reached down to scratch her on the chin, smiling softly when the animal closed her eyes and let out an almost slappy-sounding purr.

Laura stepped away from Ignis and the kitlear, stopping at the edge of the ravine and staring down at the rushing pearl and sapphire water below.

“I was named Chosen Queen by the Seer the day I was born, the one destined to destroy the King of the human population on our planet. He had stolen his power from the hearts of dead dragons and was slowly killing off every other species on the planet.

“My parents bonded me with Eilendil, then used him to activate my power to send me to another universe until I was strong enough to stay safe when I came back.”

Ignis straightened and stepped up next to her, also looking down at the river. “Your power to jump universes doesn’t come from the TARDIS?”

Even though it wasn’t winter in this vision of Lliaméra she’d created, she populated the river with fur-trout, their shaggy coats flashing silver and blue in the dimming green light as they leapt out of the water and landed on their sides with slapping splashes.

“No. Even she cannot jump universes unless something goes very, very wrong. She did it once and almost died.

“When I returned, my father had already been killed in the war, and my mother . . . didn’t care for my upbringing. She wiped my mind of all my human memories and swore Eilendil to silence, as she had convinced him it was for the best.”

 _To my everlasting shame,_ the forest echoed with Eilendil’s voice, and Ignis raised his head to the canopy to find its source.

“So she killed Rose to make room for Laurelín,” he said after a pause, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine a mother betraying her own child in such a manner.”

Taking his hand again, she strolled over the bridge with him, leading him past the open pavilions growing directly out of the tree bases, with their forges blazing hot and white after Riagrian would prepare the smithery in the morning for her master.

“In a way, I can understand why she did what she did. She was desperate to save her people. Still, I don’t care for what she turned me into. It must be an immortal thing, the need to be cold and indifferent at all times; it certainly was for my people. Naralín hated my more sociable habits: talking to strangers, wanting to learn about people, speaking openly and directly.”

Reaching the city proper right as the sun, somewhere outside the trees, was setting, turning the light from green to blue, she stopped and gave him some time to stare in wonder.

“Which one is yours?” he whispered, his gaze traveling from the spiraling staircases to the multi-tiered, open dwellings above, with their root-like buttresses bright and curling in the ethereal light the Arkhein trees gave off. She turned on the city lights then—the magically-lit orbs that glowed silver-blue in the windows and the bridges that connected the different levels between the trees, and he gasped at the transformation. _Paradise,_ she heard him think to himself.

“Therinal lives outside the city. I’ll take you there one day, but not today.”

“Therinal?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he turned his head back down toward her, his eyes seeming to glow forest-green in the indirect light.

“My tree—my third low bond? He’s sentient.”

“And he survived?”

Laura’s gaze wandered over every Arkhein tree surrounding them, feeling the echoes of their minds stirring in her memory. “They all did—the only sentient species left.”

Ignis let out a breath through his nose slowly, his expression tightening in sorrow. “Forgive me. The wonder of this place is distracting me from all you’re trying to tell me. Please, you were speaking of your mother.”

She ducked her head, poking a bare foot out from underneath her spring-green skirt to skim her toes over the soft moss growing on the side of the path. “That was kind of the point—to soften the horror a bit . . . for you and for me.”

She nodded to the space behind him, where a copper-coated doe reached out to nuzzle his hand with a wet nose. He turned, his expression melting at the affectionate creature, and ran a gentle hand over her gleaming coat before nodding at her to continue.

“The war escalated as news of my return reached the King’s attention, and more and more humans were seeking refuge in our borders. My mother abdicated the throne and sent Eilendil and me to the front lines.”

Closing her eyes, her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “You’ve only ever seen me tempered by Rose and limited by the Crystal and my oath to Regis, except perhaps when I killed that infected man. With my mind wiped, I was the cold, ruthless Lliamérian soldier my mother wanted me to be. It’s still no excuse; it wasn’t as though my choices weren’t my own.”

“Rose,” he whispered, and she felt his hands wrap around her shoulders before he pulled her close.

“I can be so dangerous, Ignis. I _still_ can be, even if less so than I was here on Miriásia. We engaged in telepathic warfare on both sides—entire armies clashing with swords and cannons and trebuchets—all their minds protected by multiple telepaths from the other side. My specialty was breaking into the minds of their telepaths and . . .”

Oh gods, how would he ever look at her the same way when she spoke these next words? He might have easily accepted the euthanasia of one man, but this? He squeezed her in reassurance, bringing a hand up to the back of her neck beneath her hair and pressing his lips to her forehead.

“. . . and slaying entire battalions of apaths with a single thought,” she finished with a violent shudder.

She felt his body expand at his sharp inhalation and his mind flood with shock—perhaps with the slightest tinge of horror, but he only pulled her more tightly to him, pressing her so that her lips were at his collarbone.

“You can do what you did to that man to hundreds simultaneously?”

“Physically speaking, on another world, yes. Emotionally, no, not anymore—not in my right mind. But I have. Gods, Ignis, I have. Their ‘Chosen Queen’ was more powerful than the rest of them, and I could sweep away hundreds of men and women, likely forced to fight in a war they didn’t understand, just by thinking. Really turned the battle in our favor,” she chuckled bitterly.

“And you wouldn’t be able to commit such a feat even to slay daemons?”

“No, and frankly I’m glad I can’t, so I don’t even have that temptation. I can’t connect with their minds to kill them. With that man, if his daemonization had been much further along, I couldn’t have killed him that way. It wouldn’t have even taken me that long to kill him had he been completely human.”

He sent her an image of Noct standing before the entirety of the Niflheim army with nothing but his sword, imagining them all falling to their feet before the King, struck down by an invisible blow.

“I think there are some situations in which I could see myself doing such a thing,” he said quietly to the top of her head.

“You’re being too kind to me. Do you remember what I told you about power?”

“It always comes at a cost.”

“Yes. And using it like that . . . for those purposes . . . I became the god you all accuse me of being, looking down on the mortals I fought against and protected as lesser beings to use as I saw fit—even my own people, immortal, but less powerful . . .. Oh, gods, I can’t even think back on it. And that persona, Ignis—she’s still there, deep down. She always will be.”

Those godsdamn tears that had been building behind her eyelids finally fell to his chest as she gripped him desperately, begging him not to be repulsed by everything she was telling him. And though he was repulsed by her actions, she saw clearly in his mind that he wasn’t disgusted by her. Rather, he was enraged on her behalf for what Naralín had done to her, even with Eilendil for going along with it. And though she didn’t feel he was properly taking into account her own agency in this fucked up situation, she’d still take it because she couldn’t bear the thought of losing his esteem, his love.

“And you, as you are now, never will,” he said firmly. “Remember that I knew the broad strokes of your past before I told you that I loved you—words I never say lightly.”

She pulled back from him, wiping furiously at her cheeks. “Thank you, love. And try not to hold it against Eilendil. He thought he was doing what was best for me at the time—I was still so lost after James. That betrayal, and mine of him, was forgiven so long ago. He was the one who convinced my mother to give me back my memories before they both died of the plague.”

Ignis closed his eyes briefly as he asked, “Dare I even inquire as to how the plague fits into this?” He opened them to gaze at her earnestly. “We can stop right here if you wish and never utter another word of this.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “If there is a single soul in this entire multiverse that should know everything about me besides Eilendil, it’s you. Can we sit though?”

She gestured to a low bench sitting at the edge of the park in the main square, next to fountain of Urunalien the Green, one of the first recorded members of Eilendil’s race. Ignis led her to the bench, but his eyes didn’t leave the statue of the dragon—its head thrown back as it spit fiery glowing droplets of water into the rocky reservoir below.

As she cuddled into Ignis’s side, his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, Eilendil appeared in the empty spot on the bench next to her, no larger than he’d been just after hatching. He looked up at her, his silver glowing eyes so very luminous and mournful, before curling up in her lap. She settled a hand on his back before speaking.

“We were so close to the King—right outside his palace—when he attacked us with hordes of animated corpses I’d killed in previous battles. I left Eilendil behind to end it once and for all. With a magic user, you have to dominate their mind completely before you move in to kill, otherwise they can use their life’s energy to do something extreme in an act of desperation. I thought I had, but there must have been something left of his free will. He used his life force to send out the pestilence in the split second before I ended him.”

Eilendil raised his head. _It was not your fault. I believed you had him as well._

“I didn’t die, of course. The TARDIS and Time Lord DNA protected me from the blight. I came back here and did my best to keep everyone comfortable as they succumbed. Eilendil and my mother were some of the last. She died cursing my name, and he died with his head in my lap. To this day, I have never known greater sorrow.”

On rare occasions, she wished she could have died right there with him.

Not hearing her errant thought, Eilendil reached up to press his snout to her nose, and she ran her hands along his muzzle to the back of his jaw, pulling his head to her and kissing him gently on his forehead.

_Thank you for coming, dearest._

_It is our burden to bear together._ He turned his head a little to give Ignis a side-eyed glare. _I can only hope the human you have chosen is worthy of this pain._

_He’s still here, isn’t he?_

_And that speaks to something of his character. Time will tell,_ he growled, and with that final thought, he disappeared.

“How flattering,” Ignis remarked, gazing down at her now empty lap.

“He’s not quite as curmudgeonly as he comes off. From him, that was a compliment.”

“Hmm,” he replied before gazing up at the city again as though memorizing its features. “I’ll never be able to create a scene such as this for my own confession, human as I am. Unfortunately, the place I had in mind is one you’ve never visited.”

“Project it here, and I can fill in the rest.”

He closed his eyes, and brushstrokes of greens, browns, and golds surrounded them, with red, purple, orange, and white stippling of wildflowers and little rocks in the grass beneath the trees. Walkways of brown rock crisscrossed the area, creating geometric spaces of green throughout the garden and around the grey stone gazebo and fountain.

Again, she was incredulous at the amount of detail he was able to produce for his species. That she could even recognize what she was looking at shouldn’t have been possible, and even with his previously-set level of skill, he had vastly improved to create such a large, detailed space. Before he could open his eyes and be disappointed, however, she saw the image in his mind, extrapolated on it, and made it sharp and clear, adding scents and sounds she remembered from her time at the Citadel and her memories of the various plants she’d seen around Lucis. There were a few details, such as some plants she had never seen or the detailing on the fountain, that she had to fill in completely and likely wasn’t accurate to reality, but if he didn’t remember them himself, he was unlikely to notice.

“Remarkable,” he breathed as he opened his eyes and looked down at her, holding out his hand. “Thank you. Please, won’t you come and sit with me?”

She took his hand, smiling softly. “You know I’d follow you anywhere.”

He grinned before leading her to one of the islands, carefully stepping over a bed of flowers and sitting down at the base of what looked like a large oak tree—next to the little red maple he’d made for her on his first attempt—folding his legs underneath him and patting the grass in front of him. As she sat, he pulled her head down into his lap and began stroking her hair, gently pulling at the strands with soft fingertips until it spread over his thighs and trailed on the ground around him in a dark halo. He didn’t begin speaking until she sighed in contentment.

“You’ve bared so much of your soul to me since we’ve bonded—beautiful things, horrible things, absurd, and despairing. And yet I’ve done very little to return the favor for all you’ve given me.”

“I don’t want you to think it’s supposed to be an exchan—"

“Please, let me talk. I don’t have as much to share, and what little I’ve experienced in my short time without you is fairly routine and uninteresting. However, I should like to give you what little I have, poor repayment though it is.”

“You know I would never think that. Every piece of you is a treasure to me.”

He leaned back into the tree trunk, continuing to run his fingers through her hair. “I was born into a family of lower nobility, which doesn’t carry much weight among many here in the royal court. When the population is as isolated as it was in Insomnia, everyone becomes nobility or related to nobility at some point. Essentially, we were little more than commoners, but as a family of royal retainers, we still commanded some small amount of respect.

“My uncle recommended me for the position as the Prince’s future Senior Advisor, and after several meetings with His Majesty, I was approved and sent to schooling before I ever met Noct. My parents, while I’m told were heartbroken to send me away, were thrilled to put me in a position beyond that of any Scientia.”

Sighing deeply, he continued, “It was announced when I turned six that I was to be given the title of Duke when I turned twenty, an unprecedented move for the King to bestow such a title on a family of Knights and Dames.”

He closed his eyes, his fingers subtly tightening in her hair as his eyebrows twitched down. Laura sent him a wave of reassurance, reminding him that he didn’t have to tell her anything he didn’t wish to. This _wasn’t_ an exchange in payment for what she’d told him.

“I don’t believe the King ever fully realized the strain between the levels of nobility within the Citadel walls. Had he done so, I don’t imagine he ever would have announced his intention to title me.  Suddenly, life became . . . different for me.”

He stopped speaking then, his eyes still closed and the furrow in his brow growing deeper as he frowned. Laura looked up, bringing a hand to his neck and stroking the soft skin there gently.

“I’d . . . rather not get into the details, but you saw the very worst of it. I don’t want you believing my life was some considerable hardship.” His eyes shot open as he looked down at her. “I suppose I have you to thank for that, don’t I?”

“What I did doesn’t diminish what you went through.”

“Yes, well, while I obviously would have preferred it not to have happened, I was well prepared for our challenges out here in the wild as a result, and there’s hardly any point in spending time attempting to wish the past away. And though I am still furious with you for risking your life to spare me, know that I am forever grateful.”

“Ignis, please don’t thank me. Not for that.”

“I’ve found interactions to be more pleasant if I simply never mention my title, and the habit seems to have remained.” His expression softened, his lips curling up into a crooked smile as he gazed down at her. “But I suppose . . . having married me, that would make you the Duchess of Kettier, which extends south to include the Fallgrove. Of course, our union will have to be blessed by the King before it can be made official, but see to it that it doesn’t go to your head.”

She snorted, shaking her head a little. “His Grace Ignis Scientia, Duke of Kettier. All this time spent having to convince you that you were more than good enough for me, that you are more than good enough for anything you want in this world. I don’t know how things work in Lucis, but a duke is certainly qualified to marry a queen where I’m from.”

“Even if the title isn’t inherited?” he asked in surprise.

“There may have been _some_ scandal, but as long as I hadn’t been the one to give you your title, yes, even then.”

He leaned over her, taking her lower lip between his, caressing it gently before taking it between his teeth.

_Rose._

_Yes?_ she asked, reaching up to press the back of his head to her so she could have better access to his mouth.

_I know we can’t . . . be together here, between . . . making a mess and awaking the others back in Caem, but is there something we can do? I need . . .._

Conjuring a cushion to appear beneath them, she said, _Come lie down with me._

Reluctantly pulling out from underneath her head, he settled by her side with his head pressed into her chest, his legs entwining with hers, and his hands around her hips—pulling her as close as he could. When she had pulled a blanket over them, she felt his mind hesitate.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Would you mind if we . . . I miss touching your skin,” he confessed.

She chuckled. “A blink of an eye. Would you care to try and do it yourself?”

She felt his eyelashes flutter against her neck before the softness of his skin and warmth of his body seeped into hers. Nuzzling at his hair, she breathed in that warm, masculine scent of his, grazing her lips over his forehead and her fingers across and down his broad shoulders. Gently nipping and licking at her collarbone, he ran his hands up and down her bare back. Finding solace in one another’s arms and minds, they lay together in the quiet—until the dawn of their last morning in Lucis for gods only knew how long.


	43. Chapter 43

Gladio brushed the lock of hair that always seemed to fall into her eyes out of the way and pressed a long, lingering kiss to her forehead. They’d both been pretending this moment wasn’t gonna come, but it was here now, and there was no more hiding from it. She wrapped her arms around as much of him as she could while she drowned in his embrace. He pulled back just enough to look down at her. While Gladio had inherited their mother’s coloring, his face was all Clarus’s, but Iris—she’d inherited Freesia’s everything. Sometimes, he could almost see her looking out at him through Iris’s eyes.

“Take care of yourself out there, Gladdy,” she said softly, and he could hear the tears in her voice, even if he couldn’t see them in her eyes.

Gods damnit, this was fucking hard.

He took one last moment to memorize her features. Who knew how long it would be before he saw her again? They’d all thought the trip to Altissia was gonna take a week or two, tops, and look where that had ended up. And now that they were finally headed there, it wasn’t for anything as innocent as a wedding. Gladio wasn’t really worried about Altissia, but the next stop was somehow infiltrating the Empire and getting the Crystal back. Iggy might’ve been a genius, but no way were they all getting out of this unscathed, no matter how much they planned.

He might not ever see her again. At least he’d done as much as he could to keep her and Talcott safe.

Gladio had never said it to her, and this might be his last chance.

“Love you,” he mumbled, dropping his head to her hair because he was a fucking coward and couldn’t look her in the eyes as he said it.

He felt her arms tighten around him for a second before she said in a choked voice, “I love you, too.”

Well, he couldn’t just stand there and hold her forever; he had to let her go sometime. Kissing her hair one last time and turning to Talcott, he leaned down and looked into that hopeful little face. This is what they were leaving for—the future—so the both of them could hope.

“You look after things while I’m gone, okay, squirt?” Gladio said, ruffling his hair.

Talcott looked up at him with the boyish grin that could only come from carefree youth. How did he do that? He’d lost just as much of the rest of them, and while Gladio still had hope, no fucking way was he ever gonna feel that young again. Best he could do was make sure they wouldn’t have to take up arms like he had, and maybe they could hold on to some of that innocence.

“Yes, sir!”

Gladio gave him one last pat on the shoulder before pulling himself straight and taking a deep breath, looking up at the slatted boards of the ceiling. All right—he’d said his goodbyes; now it was time to put that shit aside and do his job. Taking the last set of stairs, he took his place right behind Noct, who was listening to Cid speak as he sat on the ratty couch that had probably been serving as his bed these past weeks.

Cid’s weathered face seemed almost emotional as he gazed down at the photograph they’d seen just after the fall of Insomnia—the one of King Regis and his retinue on their own sojourn to the tombs.

“You cain’t hide what’s goin’ on from ‘em. It hurts like hell.” Cid’s voice trailed off in a grimace as he leaned forward to get a better view of the photo he’d no doubt memorized decades ago, then raised his head to Noct. “Remember, those ain’t your bodyguards, they’re your brothers. Trust in ‘em, always.”

Noct’s eyes shot to Laura’s before looking down at his boots and nodding. “I know,” he said in a low voice.

Gladio figured Noct could always use the reminder. He never did learn what had happened yesterday between Noct, Iggy, and Laura, but given their general relationship dynamic and the way Noct had actually been helpful for a change making sure everything was done before they left, he figured Noct had only just gotten a good reminding yesterday. Laura might’ve looked to be in her twenties like the rest of them, but it was easy to forget she was a hundred times older than Cid—traveling right alongside them and giving out all those same nuggets of wisdom. Gladio wondered where Noct would be at this point without them. He wondered where _he_ would be without them; sparring with her so often had definitely left him more prepared to take on Gilgamesh.

The four of them were looking at Laura now, waiting for her to step in and say something about not being acknowledged, but she only shook her head, as Gladio knew she would. He never could understand why she was always so gracious every time someone referred to them as ‘the boys’ or something similar. Hell, he’d even done it once himself their first day out of Insomnia. But so much had changed; they were all so different, and just because she wasn’t a Crown citizen didn’t mean she wasn’t family.

“An’ if ya insist on takin’ the boat yerselves, yer gonna need this entry permit to git in the city,” Cid continued, leaning forward to hand a small slip of paper held between two fingers to Noct.

Iggy stepped forward to take the slip. “Pardon me, but that would best be left under my care.”

Cid looked between Noct and Iggy, shaking his head with a tsk. “Gods help the future of Lucis if that’s the truth. Always knew Reggie dun spoiled yeh.” Nodding back down at the photo, he said, “Ya need to see Weskham when ya git there. Gotta diner or sum such—Magoo or sumthin’. He’ll git ya sorted.”

“We will, thanks,” Noct said with a nod.

“And thank you for everything you’ve done, Cid,” Laura said warmly. “We couldn’t have done it without you and Cindy.”

“Well, hell, little lady,” Cid said, slapping a hand in the air toward her. “Only the fate of the whole damn world.”

“Just be sure you come back in one piece,” Cor said, a small smile curling up the corner of his lips. “I’d like a rematch.”

“You got it,” she grinned before turning back to the boat.

“Wait!” Prompto shouted, throwing a hand in the air. “Whaddya guys say? One picture with everybody?”

As Prompto set up the camera, Iris bounced over to Gladio’s side, and Cor stood just behind him to look over his shoulder. In between flashes, Gladio glanced over at the other four: Noct with his hand on Talcott’s shoulder, Prompto squatting down next to Noct, and Iggy and Laura standing close to Dustin. It was one of those gods damn sepia-toned moments they’d never get back, it felt like. Would they all make it back alive? In one piece? That kinda shit didn’t matter when he had a job to do. Lock it away. If he’d learned anything from Gilgamesh, it was to accept what he felt, then brush it aside—'fear and doubt beget death alone.’ He was a weapon, and weapons didn’t have feelings, damnit.

Gladio didn’t spare anyone another glance as they boarded the boat—no looking back. Leaning against the sidewall between the open back of the boat and the closed-in captain’s console, he watched as Laura maneuvered them out of the slip and Noct stood up on the gunwale, looking down at whoever was left to watch them go.

“Hey! Your Majesty! Please come back soon. We need our king!” Gladio heard Talcott yell after him.

Yeah, wasn’t that the truth?

Noct cupped his hands around his mouth to be heard over the sound of the boat engines picking up speed.

“Yeah. Count on it!” he promised, and when he lowered his hands, Gladio saw the light in his eyes and the grin on his face.

He’d never seen Noct actually smile when anyone referred to his future—in any sense. What was it about Talcott that seemed to inspire all of them?

“Open sea, here we come!” Prompto cheered, interrupting Gladio’s thoughts. “It’s . . . amazing!” He almost seemed to be holding himself back from exploding as he bounced on the balls of his feet, looking out to the horizon. “It’s life changing!”

“We’ve quite a ways to go until we reach Altissia,” Iggy said with a crooked smile, “so keep gushing to your heart’s content.” But then Iggy raised his chin to the wind, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath. When he opened them again, they were glittering with . . . something.

Gladio had seen that look in Iggy’s eyes ever since he’d gotten back from Taelpar, and he couldn’t for the life of him put his finger on what it was. Iggy and Laura in particular seemed to have gone through hell since Gladio had gotten back, but those moments in between the near-death experiences and whatever went on yesterday, when Iggy thought no one was watching him, Gladio would take the time to examine his expression. He’d been well-known for that judgmental asshole expression back home—the one where he’d cross his arms, lean into his hip, and frown at whatever poor unfortunate bastard had upset him for gods only knew what reason. Maybe it was because Gladio hadn’t been around the guy for a while, but the difference had been striking when he got back. The judgmental asshole look had been replaced with a kinda faraway tenderness, complete with the occasional smile or chuckle.

Much as he wanted to, Gladio couldn’t give all the credit to Laura for whatever was going on with him. It’d just happened too suddenly. Looking back, he wondered if it had had anything to do with the day before he’d left, when Iggy’d spaced out all the sudden. From what he’d heard from Noct and Prompto, he’d gotten worse those days following before suddenly recovering.

Maybe Iggy had gone through his own ‘Blademaster trial’ while Gladio had been away. He guessed they’d never know, since no one kept quiet like Iggy did.

Prompto spun on the spot to face them. “Aren’t you guys excited? When we step off the boat, we’ll be in a foreign country!”

“Yeah,” Noct said thoughtfully. “First time ever. Didn’t think of that.”

“Wonder what it’ll be like,” Prompto said, his voice breathless with anticipation.

“You’ll see for yourself. Foreign lands seldom lend themselves to trite explanations,” Iggy said.

Noct looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “And when have _you_ ever been to a foreign land?”

That tender little half-smile seemed to light up Iggy’s face a little before he responded with, “Having been raised in the Crown City, one could consider all our travels thus far to be to foreign lands, could they not?”

“I dunno. All I heard is that it’s different than Insomnia,” Gladio said, but a chilly sense of déjà vu rushed through him as soon as the words had passed his lips. He was just being stupid though. Just because shit had hit the fan when they’d left Insomnia didn’t mean the same was gonna happen to Lucis now that they’d left their home country behind. “And to think this is where we were headed to begin with.”

“We’ve been through a lot,” Noct said softly.

Prompto finally sat his happy ass down, but his eyes didn’t stop darting over the swells and the mountains in the distance they were headed toward. “So Noct, you ready to _finally_ see Lady Lunafreya? Wait, she’s not in danger there with the whole thing with the Empire and Leviathan, right?”

Noct’s eyes widened, but it was Iggy who answered, “Her wellbeing is our top priority while we’re in Altissia. I have no faith the Empire’s ruthless ambitions will stop short of harming the Oracle to get the Ring.”

“Right,” Noct said, nodding emphatically. “The Ring is important, and so is Leviathan—but Luna comes first.”

“You think she’s got any combat training of her own?” Gladio asked.

Iggy tilted his chin in thought. “I imagine the Empire wouldn’t want the Oracle able to defend herself; however, given her brother’s station, it’s likely she’s received some private instruction.”

“It wouldn’t be enough to protect her from what’s coming though, if Titan’s any indication,” Gladio said. “Anyone on their own would be in danger, which is why we gotta keep an eye on her.”

“Indeed,” Iggy agreed, but his eyes flickered to Gladio before continuing more casually, “Speaking of the first Tenebraean family, there’s a disturbing rumor about: Lord Ravus has taken to brandishing His Majesty’s sword.”

“My dad’s?” Noct gasped.

“And what’s the big idea behind that?” Gladio growled, crossing his arms as he leaned more heavily into the sidewall behind him.

“That his power’s the same as the Power of Kings?” Prompto asked hesitantly, as though afraid to voice the thought out loud.

“I cannot say for sure, but I have my doubts. Ravus wears the sword, yet does not wield it,” Ignis replied.

After everything they’d been through with that bastard, Gladio couldn’t understand why Iggy was so neutral about him. He’d held a sword to Gladio’s throat . . . among other things. He was just another pawn of that creepy ass Chancellor. Gladio had noticed after the incident that Laura had been kinda neutral about him too, and he wondered if Iggy’s opinion was based off hers. It didn’t matter though; Gladio’s mind was made up.

“For all his newfound powers, he’s still the Chancellor’s lapdog, holding on to the enemy king’s sword like some badge of honor.”

It was his job to make sure scumbags like that got what was coming to them. He didn’t care what kind of superhuman strength Ravus had, Gladio was gonna make the little fucker pay for even thinking about wearing King Regis’s sword.

They cruised for a while until Prompto requested they swing near Angelgard to take some photos, but Laura couldn’t take them as close as he would’ve liked. Iggy had already advised them not to draw near because the place was considered sacred ground, but when Laura started feeling a high concentration of the power of Eos and started talking about a ‘Mount Olympus,’ they hastily got their shots in and got the hell out of there, heading once again toward Altissia.

Leaning back on his elbows into the seat, Prompto complained, “Are we there yet?”

“Thought you said you always wanted to go sailing. Last time I checked, it was ‘amazing’ and ‘life changing,’” Gladio teased with a snort.

“Yeah, but all this ocean kinda gets bland after a while.”

He secretly agreed. This trip was getting kinda long, and it wasn’t like in the car, where the scenery changed. Gladio loved nature—had spent a lot of time finding himself in the different regions of Lucis. That first day out in Leide, for the first time in his life, Gladio learned what the quiet really was. Sure, the house was always peaceful, and there were plenty of spaces in the Citadel to contemplate shit. But the desert had been different. There was no hum of electricity or wails of ambulance sirens—just the blowing wind over his ears. He’d made it a point to spend at least ten minutes every day around his sparring practice to just sit and listen to nothing. And the view—there was absolutely nothing like it back in Insomnia.

But out here on the ocean, once he’d gotten over just how large it was and how much water was running underneath the boat, Gladio did notice that it got kinda dull after a while. It took a long ass time for the view to change, and it hadn’t seemed to change much these past few hours.

“Honestly, you guys are missing out on the best parts of the ocean,” Laura called back to them.

“Really? Enlighten us. As you know, none of us has ever been on the ocean before,” Iggy replied.

The roar of the engine dropped suddenly in pitch and volume as Laura slowed the boat to idling speed, and after a couple more seconds, she cut the engine off.

“Hey, Princess, would you mind throwing the anchor?” she asked Gladio as she turned back to them.

He hopped over the sidewall up onto the gunwale, heading up to the bow where the anchor was stowed. “You got it.”

When he returned, Noct and Prompto were turned in the rear seat, and Iggy was leaning back heavily against the sidewall, his legs crossed. Gladio followed their gazes to where Laura sat cross legged on the platform at the stern of the boat.

“Well?” Noct asked, breaking the silence.

“Shh!” she replied, pressing a finger to her lips, and Gladio hadn’t known it was possible until that moment to shush someone so loudly before.

It was when she and Iggy shared a look that he really started noticing her expression. She looked _so_ godsdamned _alive_. Even though they’d spent almost ten weeks out in the blazing sun, her skin was still the creamiest white, but either the heat or the excitement had brought a flush to her cheeks. Her eyes were bluer than he’d ever seen them and sparkling with energy. Even her smile was animated with an enthusiasm that Gladio couldn’t help but echo, even if he had no idea what the fuck they were so happy about all the sudden. Was this what she was like when she was with Iggy? If so, Gladio could maybe see why he’d fallen for her.

“Oh . . . kay . . ., I don’t hear anything,” Prompto said.

“Exactly!” she said in a low breathy voice as though she were telling them the secret to life. “When you all left Insomnia, it was the first time you’d been outside the city in your entire lives—the very first time you’d seen the open sky, heard true silence, seen anything of nature.

“But since we left, we’ve been dashing about from one place to the next, and you were about to just traverse this ocean for the first time as though it were just another road. Look around you!”

She leapt to her feet and flung an arm out to the horizon. “The sky doesn’t get any more unencumbered than that. Close your eyes, and feel the boat beneath you!”

It was almost like she’d cast a spell on him, because he closed his eyes without even thinking that she’d gone insane. Well, he _had_ thought she was a little nuts when she used to try and do this with him back when they first met, but a hell of a lot had changed since then.

As he let his body sway a little with the gentle rocking of the boat on the waves, she said, “That, right there, is the movement of wind across the entire surface of your planet, from every corner of the globe. You are _moving_ right along with your planet, one with it, breathing with it.”

“Wow,” Prompto whispered. “You’re kinda crazy, but cool. You know?”

She gave him a broad smile, the tip of her tongue poking out to touch her teeth. “Sometimes even doing nothing can be an adventure in itself. Let’s take some time to enjoy it. I’m going down below to change; the rest of you find something relaxing to do, even if it’s just staring out at the waves.”

As she turned and danced toward the captain’s console to go downstairs, Gladio, Prompto, and Noct all slowly shifted their gaze to Ignis, who was looking after her with a crooked grin.

“She always like that?” Gladio asked.

Iggy looked up at him, his green eyes glowing bright in the sunlight. His smile widened until his eyes crinkled at the corners, and he nodded.

“Oh, yes. She is _always_ like that.”

“So we’re gonna be here for a while? I can fish?” Noct asked hopefully, already standing to head toward the bow.

“It would seem the lady deems it so,” Iggy replied, sweeping a hand toward the bow, and Noct and Prompto jumped over the sidewall, racing to see who could make it up front first. Iggy sighed and said, “They’re going to break their necks, and for what?”

“Same shit we already got in the armiger, probably,” Gladio replied, shaking his head. He took off his jacket and tossed it on the seat, enjoying the sensation of the late summer sun tingling on his skin. Looking out over the water, he tried to take in the scene as Laura saw it, as a miracle that it existed. He’d never really understood why she’d get so damn excited every time they went to a new place. With all she’d seen, their whole world was probably the equivalent to stopping by the gas station at three in the morning for a cup of that terrible chili that would make him fart poison gas for at least twelve hours after (but damn was that shit good for some reason).

Now that he was thinking about it, it was pretty amazing that he was breathing air that had touched every part of the globe, and it was now touching his own lungs—giving him what he needed to survive before moving on to sustain the next plant, person, or animal. If he stood still and really let his body rock with the boat, he could imagine for a second that the world he was standing on was really alive, breathing with him like a living being. Those little choppy waves making slapping sounds on the side of the boat that he’d been getting bored of seeing a few minutes ago suddenly transformed into that marvel he’d been looking for—air, without a solid body, touching water and making it move. Those mountains he’d been staring at in the distance for hours suddenly became the roots of the world, pushed up on display for a mere mortal to see as they reflected the hazy blue light off the water.

And that was just what was happening above the surface. No telling what was going on beneath their feet.

Laura had just taken a monotonous scene and turned it into a miracle. How had she done that?

Gladio stepped up onto the platform on the stern, stretching his arms in the air as far as he could before swinging them out to one side, then the other, enjoying the give and pull of his back muscles as he moved. Maybe Laura had the right idea to change; maybe he should go for a swim after working on his tan a bit—learn what it felt like to be a miniscule fish in a vast ocean.

“Damn, Glad,” he heard Laura say as she stepped up behind him and ran a hand over his shoulder. “How is it you haven’t landed someone yet?”

He turned to grin at her, taking in her dark blue one-piece swimsuit and long, colorful wrap tied around her waist.

Feeling mischievous, he said, “I guess because any time a pretty girl comes along, I go and do something dumb, like this.”

Wrapping both his arms around her, he tossed her as far off the side of the boat as he could so she wouldn’t hit anything as she landed. She had enough time to shriek his name as she flew through the air before slapping the surface with an impressive splash and disappearing below the dark water.

“Gladio!” Ignis chastised sharply from his position against the sidewall.

Gladio rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Iggy, we’re just having a little fun. Your own girl just told us all to loosen up. You should too!”

“It’s quite an assumption on your behalf that she can even swim,” he replied haughtily, raising an eyebrow.

Gladio spun back to look down into the water, where there seemed to be a distinct lack of any evidence of her surfacing. Shit. He hadn’t even thought about that. They’d all been through so much that he sometimes forgot they hadn’t actually known her that long, and she was always so capable of doing anything that it hadn’t even occurred to him it was a possibility that she couldn’t swim.

“Laura?” he called out. Growing worried when she didn’t surface or blow bubbles or anything, he called more loudly, “Laura!”

Fuck. He bent his knees to dive in after her, but he stilled when he felt fingers wrap around his elbow.

“That won’t be necessary. She’s all right,” Iggy said, looking down at where she’d disappeared.

How could he be so calm about this? Even if she could do some kinda freaky alien thing, there was no way of knowing for sure she was all right. Of course, if she was just doing this to teach him a lesson, he was gonna kick her ass when he got her back up here, but if she needed saving, they needed to quit dicking around. Knowing her, she’d probably already managed to piss off some sort of deity down there that would shake the very foundations of everything they thought they knew about their world.

“How do you know? She could’ve hit her head on something, gotten the breath knocked out of her, gotten carried off by something. Fuck, we gotta—"

“I just know. She’s all right,” he interrupted.

Gladio studied Iggy’s expression, narrowing his eyes at the smooth forehead; calm, level gaze; and relaxed mouth. He wasn’t even a little worried for her, and oh Ramuh’s rod, how could he have not seen it before? He’d been thinking about all the weird alien shit she could do in the water; it never occurred to him all the weird alien shit she could do to Iggy.

“Dude, she’s in your head right now, isn’t she?”

His face had gone carefully blank, but his jaw clenched as he turned his head away and stared into the middle distance. He nodded once, sharply.

“Holy shit, Ig. What’s that even like?”

He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to share his own headspace with someone. Talking to Noct about his experience with the gods and Messengers, even with Laura in his head, it sounded like slamming back an entire bottle of vodka and just sitting back to see what popped up in his head.

The corner of Iggy’s lips lifted in a small smile as he closed his eyes and let out a breath in a chuckle.  

“Beyond words.”

Fine time for Iggy’s sense of humor to kick in now; Gladio really wanted to know. Even as he imagined the idea of sharing thoughts with someone, his mind kept going back and forth between it being amazing and a godsdamn nightmare. He knew Iggy was a private man—understatement of the century—and Gladio respected that. But it had been hard even for Gladio not to be more than a little interested every time the topic of their relationship was even hinted at. The man was fucking an alien and a goddess as no other human being on Eos ever had, and surely even Iggy could understand the objective curiosity. And speaking of fucking . . ..

“Hey, does she do it during . . . you know?” He’d spared Iggy the embarrassment of actually using the word ‘fucking’ out loud, but that didn’t stop his eyebrows from waggling up and down—he swore that shit had been involuntary.

Iggy’s head whipped in his direction, his eyes going wide as a bright flush spread over his cheeks and down his neck with alarming speed. His gaze immediately dropped to the deck of the boat, and his jaw bulged a little as he gritted his teeth again.

“Damn,” Gladio said, shaking his head. “That’s a ‘hell, yes’ if I ever saw it.” He let his voice grow quiet and serious, since that was the only way he had any hope at all of getting anything out of him. “I wish you were anyone else in the world right now so you could tell me what that was like.”

Gladio lost sight of Ignis’s expression as he hung his head, and it made him wonder. If it had hurt Noct to share headspace with the gods, was it hurting Iggy? Was he tolerating the pain just so he could keep her in his life? Or what if it was even more twisted than that? Gladio knew Laura was a good person, but relationships could get weird behind closed doors. And who the fuck knew what went on in an alien relationship?

If he weren’t standing so close to him, Gladio would’ve definitely missed Iggy’s one whispered word.

“Rapturous.”

Well, shit. Either it was the experience itself or Iggy’s vastly more extensive vocabulary, but Gladio couldn’t describe any of his numerous encounters as fucking ‘rapturous.’ Could telepathic sex really be that much better than regular sex? Gladio had certainly had enough of the regular kind to be well familiar with the human experience, and it was always fucking fantastic, if he did say so himself. But that word coupled with what little expression he could make out in Iggy’s downcast eyes . . . maybe Gladio should start trying harder to find something a little more meaningful than a good fuck when this was all over—something like what his mom and dad had had, something like what maybe Iggy and Laura had. Maybe something like that would even be possible when he wasn’t a weapon anymore—when he was allowed to feel again.

Iggy turned to go, but Gladio put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.  There was just one more thing he had to check, cause he’d kick his own ass if he didn’t, and it turned out she was imprisoning him or something.

“I just got one more question. You’re okay with it, right? Always?”

Ignis inclined his head, fixing him with a serious stare, but his eyes were clear, bright, and so _alive_ , just like Laura’s had been—and Gladio was finally able to put a word to that expression he’d seen in Iggy’s eyes since he’d come back from the trial.

Joy. It was pure, simple, quiet joy. No one had recognized it for what it was because Iggy was always hiding several layers of emotions behind that expression, Gladio was beginning to learn. He’d never be jumping around like a loon in love, but it was there nonetheless. Fucking Astrals, he _loved_ her.

“Yes, always. Of course,” he said almost incredulously.

Even behind the joy, there was something else unidentifiable. He seemed older now, more experienced, and not in that stupid way everyone thought somehow showed up in their face after they started having sex. He seemed to have softened, filled with wonder, smiled more. It was subtle though; Gladio’d had to compare him to the guy he’d been back at the Citadel to really see it. He wasn’t wound so tight anymore; his resting expression had relaxed some, and there was wisdom and color in his face instead of world-weariness and dark rings around his eyes. Flipping through Prompto’s pictures lately, Gladio saw that he’d even managed to catch Iggy laughing a time or two.

Gladio gave him a couple of slaps on the shoulder. “Sorry, man. Just had to check.”

Iggy nodded. “I appreciate your concern, but I’d be most grateful for your discretion on this matter.”

Gladio pulled back a little, his brow raising in surprise. “Damn, Ig. I wasn’t gonna say anything. Not my place.”

“You have my thanks,” he replied, looking back out over the water, and Gladio followed his gaze.

“So, does she turn into a fish down there, or what?”

Iggy grinned like little kid, chuckling, and Gladio wondered why it had taken him so long to put a name to that look.

“No, she doesn’t, but she can be down there for quite some time. It seems something’s caught her eye, and she’s going to investigate.”

That was never a good sign. Seemed like Laura had a magnet in her ass for trouble.

“Can you talk back to her?” When he nodded, Gladio said, “Just tell her to be careful, will ya?”

“Always.”


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW in this chapter

_Hey, what are you doing just sitting there? I told you to do something relaxing._

Ignis stood from the bench and peered over the side of the boat, where Laura’s wet head could be seen bobbing amidst the swells. Looking back to the transom where Gladio sat, he caught the Shield’s gaze and nodded in Laura’s direction. Gladio jumped to his feet, and when he caught sight of Laura swimming toward the ladder hanging off the stern, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“You sure freaked me the fuck out, Princess. You been under, what? Ten minutes?”

 _Sitting **is**_ _relaxing,_ he answered, doing his best to keep all traces of the somewhat sudden shift of his mood from giddiness to discomfort out of their connection after his talk with Gladio. Though he knew she would still want him to be his honest self, he couldn’t bring himself to reveal anything negative—for now. All had been completely forgiven and somewhat forgotten on both sides yesterday, but Ignis could _never_ forget the sight of Rose’s face as he’d thoughtlessly hurled such spiteful words at the woman who had transformed his existence so completely for the better.

Astrals, how disgraceful and ungrateful could he have been? For shame.

“Ten minutes, thirteen seconds,” she replied casually, pulling herself up the ladder. “And it serves you right! Assuming I could swim like that!” She gave him a wet slap on the shoulder before jumping down to the deck and heading toward Ignis.

 _Well, go get changed. I found something I really want to show you. Wanna go on a real-life adventure with me?_ That euphoria that had been emanating from her since she’d halted the vessel was pouring off her now, spilling over their connection and prickling at his mind in complete contrast to the mortification he was still feeling.

It had been some time indeed since they’d gone on one of her mad adventures in real life, and Ignis was surprised to find that he still dreaded and anticipated the prospect as much as he had when she was first drawing him in—perhaps even more so, as whatever she was proposing was likely to involve far more than taking off his boots in the grass. He was already feeling vulnerable; he didn’t particularly relish the idea of adding salty water and half-nudity to his list of experiences today. But he had to, didn’t he? He’d already let her down so spectacularly, and so very recently. And it wasn’t as though he wouldn’t thoroughly enjoy the adventure once he was on it.

In an attempt to give himself time to wrestle his more negative feelings into submission before acquiescing, and because he had just now thought of it, he leaned over the glass windows of the sidewall, calling out, “Did you remember to put on sunscreen, Noct?”

He could practically hear the Prince roll his eyes as he responded, “Yes, Ignis.”

 _Ignis, love, what are you doing?_ she asked gently _. I can still feel you passively, you know. I’d never make you do anything you didn’t truly want to._

She had reached him by this point and was gazing up at him, searching his eyes as her hair and sarong dripped seawater onto the deck around her feet. Bowing his head, he passed on everything he was feeling in that moment: exposed from the embarrassing conversation she had also heard, reluctant to strip down in front of the others and get wet, remorseful for letting her down and binding her to a stuffy hypocrite masquerading as some sort of adventurer.

 _Stop that,_ she said, shoving a little at his mind. She indicated that he wait a moment while she untied her sarong, wrung it out over the side, and laid it out on the gunwale to dry. Conjuring a towel to dry off so she wouldn’t get him wet, she came to stand in front of him again, placing a hand over his heart briefly before glancing over at Gladio and letting it drop.

Sighing, she said, _I’ll confess I was a bit disappointed. You only have one life to live, Ignis. I want you to **live**_ _it with me, whether in our dream world or here in the real one. And that means taking you out of your comfort zone sometimes. But I swear, as it always has been, I’ll love you regardless of what you choose._

 _Well, with an argument like that . . . how can I refuse anything you ask?_ he replied, pushing off the sidewall and turning toward the cabin, but she stopped him with a hand at his elbow.

_You see? That right there. Are you certain you’re doing this for you and not just to make me happy?_

_I’ll always endeavor to make you happy. Is that not what spouses are meant to do? But I suppose when you put it in the context of my life, it **is** a rather foolish notion. I can always take a shower straight after, and the very worst the others will do is harass me about my pallor and physique. _

_And I’ll set them straight on that really quick if they try,_ she growled, glaring up at him. _I’m sleeping with you, not with them, so obviously you won a contest somewhere._

 _Oh, by the gods, please don’t use that argument should the topic arise, I beg of you,_ he replied, his eyes widening in horror. _But you’re also right. You’ve taken me past my usual bounds of comfort several times, and I’ve not once regretted it. Now, I’m going to get changed before you manage to talk me out of what you’ve talked me into._

Ignis looked up briefly before turning back to the cabin, and he caught sight of Gladio, who had likely been watching as he and Laura stood and made faces at each other this whole time, an ever-widening smirk spreading to encompass his entire face.

Sighing wearily, he said, _I suppose he’s going to be smug every time he catches us doing this now._

She shrugged. _If he knows, I don’t see the point in trying to hide it from him, but I think he’s just intensely curious._

 _A trait for which I cannot fault him. His concern for my wellbeing was most thoughtful as well,_ he said as he made his way through the cabin and downstairs, where small living quarters lay situated in front of the hold that stored the Regalia.

Gladio had been expressing concern and support for him frequently as of late, and though Ignis would have rather not had the attention drawn to him, Gladio’s display of camaraderie was both touching and appreciated. And Ignis had to admit that turnabout was fair play. After all, he himself had been the one to gently press the Shield into sharing his experience with the Blademaster. At least Gladio hadn’t returned the favor by asking Ignis to divulge in front of everyone, which he supposed had been unfair of him to do.

Even though Ignis trusted Gladio’s discretion completely, it was only a matter of time before Noct and Prompto found out about his and Laura’s telepathic connection. All things considered, he’d rather be the one to tell them rather than have them find out—perhaps if they both survived the event ahead of them that had frightened Laura so.

He’d been trying not to dwell on that thought. Foreknowledge of any sort was a high cost indeed for marrying the Goddess of Time; he could only imagine what it must have been like for her. Shoving the thoughts aside, he changed into his swim trunks.

Ignis emerged from the cabin feeling practically nude without a shirt or his glasses, aware that his skin seemed to be glowing bright white as it reflected the sunlight. He braced himself against the spotted, underfed phantom comments he was no doubt about to receive.

 _Would you mind helping me with sunscreen?_ he asked, grabbing the bottle from the console where Noct had left it. _I’m afraid I have a tendency to burn._

 _With pleasure,_ she purred, coming inside to take the bottle from him.

Looking up to check his surroundings, Ignis caught sight of Gladio’s warm smile as he hopped up onto the gunwale and leaned over the windows to look into the cabin. “You going for a swim, Ig? Good idea. Might go change myself and jump in. Gonna go ask Spazzy and Sleepy if they wanna join.” He slapped the window twice before heading up to the bow.

 _Did you say something to him?_ he asked suspiciously, his narrowed gaze following Gladio’s progress to the others through the windows.

 _Gladio and I say a lot of things to each other,_ she replied enigmatically as she squirted the sunscreen into her palms, turned him around with a hand to his shoulder, and began rubbing the fruity smelling concoction onto his back. He had to say, the fake, overly-sweet scent hardly complimented his tastes.

He was about to press her for a more unambiguous answer when he caught her rush of warmth—her hearts beating faster in her chest and her breaths coming through parted lips as she finished his back and shoulders and turned him around. She didn’t thrust the feeling at him in order to arouse him, but rather continued working with her thoughts silent and her emotions roaring. His own breath hitched as he watched her pupils expand while she applied the cream to his belly—the space between his navel and the elastic of his swim trunks.

A particularly high swell hit the boat at that moment, rocking him forward into her, and as he gripped her shoulders to steady himself, he caught the flash of an image—of him pushing her against the console, wrapping her legs around him, and taking her right there—perhaps even while yanking down the top of her swimsuit to lave one of her hardened nipples that were currently brushing against his bare chest. Clenching his jaw against the wave of arousal and irrational desire to do just that—and damn anyone nearby—he let go of her.

 _Sorry,_ she said when the swell had passed. _I’m not trying to make this more difficult for you, I swear. Sometimes I just . . . think of you._

 _Hardly your fault if I’m looking in on your thoughts—and I haven’t yet fully developed my sea legs._ He paused for a moment before reluctantly admitting, _And . . . I think of you as well—alarmingly frequently, as I’m certain you’ve noticed._

It seemed as though a flash of desire would flit through him at the oddest of moments: when she would tilt her head in thought, exposing his favorite spot to taste just behind her ear; in the more domestic moments, when he would stand next to her in their kitchen area and prepare meals; or even at seemingly random times, such as while walking back to the Regalia after a particularly successful hunt. His ample imagination would send to him unbidden images of suddenly turning on her, pressing her up or down against the nearest surface, and consuming her. He’d done his best to spare her his insatiability, though she no doubt still picked up passively on his mood. Constantly surrounded as they were by others, he would always have to shake these fantasies off without relief, just as he would have to do now, unfortunately.

_So, what adventure do you have prepared for us this afternoon?_

Her darkened gaze lit up once again to become sparkling sapphire as she pressed a quick kiss to the mole on his right bicep, flicking her tongue out to taste it before pulling back and responding.

_For once, I get to show you something no human being has probably ever seen on your own planet. Allons-y!_

His apprehension slowly beginning to dissipate at the prospect of yet another once-in-a-lifetime adventure, now that he’d agreed to go along with it, he couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm as she grabbed for his hand and practically dragged him to the back of the boat. Once they had slipped off the transom and into the waves, he had to admit that he didn’t feel nearly as exposed with the waterline up to his chest. The water was only a little chilly—easily adjusted to—as it lapped at his skin, and the increased buoyancy, likely due to the salinity of the water, was a curious, new sensation.

Ignis hadn’t taken ample opportunities to swim in the pool at the Crownsguard training center, finding the chlorine drying and distasteful as he did, but he’d taken the time to become at least a decent swimmer. Out here in the ocean, however—with its mercurial nature, restless waves, and formidable currents—was another matter entirely. Sending Rose his history on the exercise so she would be aware of his limitations, he was relieved to find her unconcerned.

Laura turned back to the boat. “Hey, babe!” she called out to Gladio, who was walking along the gunwale. “We’re gonna be underwater for a while. Don’t panic this time, yeah? I’m not drowning him.”

“Do I even wanna know how you plan on accomplishing that? You may be able to do some alien shit, but he’s still human . . . last I checked, anyway.”

She gave him a wide, mysterious smile. “I’ll leave that up to your ample imagination. But I’m curious. When was the last time you checked? I’m fascinated to hear your process.”

“Maybe I’ll just leave that part up to your imagination, Princess,” he said with a wink.

“Oooh, thanks for _that_ image,” she said seductively. Fortunately, she was either joking, or she’d chosen to spare Ignis the specifics of the image to which she was referring.

 _You might be surprised, love,_ she said cryptically. _There are a lot of universes out there—a lot of possibilities._

Before he could ask what on Eos she could possibly be implying with such a statement, she said to Gladio, “But seriously, anywhere from ten minutes to an hour or so; it depends on how long we want to stay.”

“Uh . . . all right then,” he replied hesitantly. “Just be careful, and don’t piss anything off down there for a change.”

“No promises!” she said before turning back to Ignis. _We’ll have to be quick, so I’ll be the one to swim us down there._ _You still might not make it in one breath, though. Let me know if you’re running out of air, and I’ll give you some more._

Just how deep were they going that he would run out of air? He’d only just learned that her respiratory bypass allowed her to survive an additional half-hour or so in addition to her natural lung capacity, so how could she possibly support him as well as herself for up to an hour? How would it feel to not be responsible for his own breathing for such an extended period?

 _Hey,_ she said, reaching for his hand as they tread water. _Do you trust me?_

Yes, of course he trusted her. With his mind. With his heart. With his life. _Apologies,_ he said, _it’s merely an instinct when you say things like that._

_To question—yes, I know. I’ll always admire your inquisitiveness, but in this case, you lose some of the wonder if I spell it out beforehand. Is that all right?_

He’d already faced the dark for her—ambiguity seemed a simple matter after that, so he nodded his assent.

 _All right. I need you to get in this position,_ she said, sending him an image of him clinging to her back, so he complied, wrapping his arms and legs around her torso when she turned around. The position felt somewhat ridiculous; he felt like an overlarge child.

_Now take a few slow deep breaths, then one large one. Be sure to hold on to it when we dive. It’ll be fast and might come as a shock._

He did as she asked, and when he had taken his deep breath, she flipped their positions in a flash so that their heads were almost instantly underwater facing the ocean floor. Having been forewarned, Ignis was able to hold his breath through the shock of their maneuver and the sudden disorientation, but only just.

Laura moved, unsurprisingly, like a sea creature herself, her body rippling through the currents like a ribbon on the breeze. He could feel the effort behind the kicks of her powerful legs, which sent them shooting through the water so swiftly that the current threatened to pull his chest away from her back, so he clutched at her more tightly.

 _Hey, open your eyes, silly._ _You’re in the ocean!_

Though he’d despised doing so in the pool back home, he complied, the salt stinging for a moment before settling into a tolerable nuisance. The effort was well worth it, however, when he took in the view that greeted him. It was like absolutely nothing he’d ever seen—even if it wasn’t quite as clear as he would prefer—almost as though he were truly exploring another planet with her.

_Rose, this is just . . . astounding._

He was beginning to wonder how long it would be until she grew tired of his poor and oft-repeated expressions of amazement and incredulity.

 _Never,_ she replied emphatically.

The bright tawny sand far below them seemed to be endless, rippling with refracted light and almost making it appear as though it were overrun with living, gleaming ribbons of electricity. The depth of water through which they were traversing suddenly transformed from mere water into his horizon, an impenetrable steel blue sky that obscured his range of vision, but that made it no less stunning in his opinion. Off to their left was a deep crevasse, a jagged rent in the ocean floor whose bottom appeared dark, unfathomable, and more than slightly ominous to Ignis’s blurry vision, and he sincerely hoped that that wasn’t where they were headed. Knowing Rose, however . . ..

His attention was drawn to the edge of the crevasse, where sat perched what seemed to be an entire conservatory of plants made of rocks, their intense colors ranging from the brightest magenta to the most violent yellow. Ignis had read about coral reefs in books and seen pictures, but he’d always believed that the colors had been altered to appear more vibrant than reality; he’d been wrong, most certainly, just as he’d been incorrect about the sea life, as well. Small electric blue, nuclear orange, and savagely red fish darted in and out between the stiff, curling fingers and wide fans of the coral, creating a bristling, never-ending wave of vibrant pigmentation—the likes of which he’d never seen.

The pressure in his ears was beginning to grow uncomfortably painful as they continued to descend, threatening to stifle that sense of awe and wonder, and he shook his head in an effort to clear it, to no avail.

 _That’s normal. Here._ She sent him the sensation of clearing her own ears, and he imitated the instructions he felt in his head, sighing inwardly at the instant relief. But his reprieve didn’t last long, however, as the burn in his lungs began to make itself known.

_Rose? I think I’ll be needing more air soon._

_Okay,_ she said, slowing. _Loosen your arms a bit so I can turn in your grasp._ When she turned in his arms to face him, she continued, _This next part might be difficult for you. I need you to let out your used breath until your lungs are empty. Then I’ll press my lips to yours and breathe into your mouth. All right?_

Astrals, he’d never been more aware of the crushing weight of water above his head than in that moment. Doing his best to brush aside the anxiety at the prospect of what he was being asked to do, he summoned every iota of strength he had, relinquished what little life-sustaining oxygen was left in his lungs, and surrendered himself completely to her mercy. He’d done it without hesitation, at least, if not without some reasonable reservation. The last of his breath floated over his face in tickling bubbles as it rose to the surface, and he, perhaps deliriously, wondered if the others would see that breath break the surface above.

 _Very well, though you probably already know this, I am now seconds from drowning, my dear,_ he commented wryly.

Her lips quirked into a smile before she moved to press her lips to his, sealing their mouths tightly. It was easier than he’d thought it would be to suck down the air from her mouth, as the somewhat terrifying pressure building in his lungs was relieved immediately as they expanded.

 _Now let’s get moving,_ she said as she pulled back and turned around in his arms again. _We’re almost there._

 _Did you just give me your entire reserve of actual air?_ he asked as she took off once again to the crevasse—of course.

_Yes, but I’ve got the bypass. And you won’t be needing another breath. As I said, we’re almost there._

As she swam, Ignis peered over her shoulder and noticed a cave opening in the wall near the top of the ravine. Was that where they were headed? Her answer did little to alleviate his growing concern for their situation as she affirmed his assumption.

 _You may want to close your eyes for this part,_ she warned as they passed through the entrance. He could feel her picking up speed in an effort to rush him though the portion that would make him most uncomfortable, but even he silently advised against it, as the view he’d gotten before he was submerged in complete blackness was that of a cramped tunnel lined with viciously jagged rocks. His heart began to pound uncomfortably in his throat as he closed his eyes against the sensation of complete sensory deprivation in a such a dangerous and confining space. Combined with the pressure of the water and his physical inability to breathe, he was beginning to feel suffocated.

How could she even see where she was going in a void of sensation so complete?

 _The same way I can see you when we’re sparring with my eyes closed. Remember, I’m quite a bit more sensitive than you’re physically capable of. It’s all right; just a few more seconds, I promise._ She sent him an image of their field outside the chocobo ranch, flooded with bright sunlight and wide-open spaces. _Keep your eyes closed, if it helps. We’re about to break the surface, so you can breathe on your own._

 _How is that possible?_ he asked as his mind grasped at the image she was projecting. _I admit I’m no expert by any means, but we must be well over one hundred feet below the surface._

_Just wait. We’re about to reach the wondrous part. We’re about to reach the part that makes this entire thing worth it._

Why was it that there always seemed to be such a daunting cost to experiencing the wonder? But as he caressed her golden thread in his mind, he knew she was right; it had always been worth it to him. He’d follow her into the pits of hell for her wondrous revelations just as surely as he would do the same for Noct to keep him safe.

It was another few moments before they did, in fact, break the surface of the water, and his feet touched stone beneath him. Though he still had plenty of her air left, he sucked in a great gulp, eager to be responsible for his own respiration again.

Even though it was still pitch black, being able to breathe on his own made all the difference in his mood as he took in another lungful of old and stale-tasting air to remark, “You . . . are _utterly, completely_ mad, woman!”

His voice, along with her accompanying giggle, echoed oddly off what sounded like stone walls. He could feel the space in his mind—surprisingly large and cavernous, with what sounded like an extremely jagged ceiling. The place tasted ancient and deserted; at least there were no daemons here in these dark depths.

“I’m making an effort not to be insulted that you would even think I would take you somewhere so dangerous while limited like this,” she said indignantly as a flash of her Pocket surprised him.

“Well, if the journey getting here is any indication of what you consider safe, how am I to know?” he asked, humor lacing his tone.

He felt her lips against his chest for a moment before she replied, “Shut up and look above your head. I’m about to light this place.”

He caught the glow of a small orb of light in her hand out of the corner of his eye and had to look down as she dropped it beneath the surface of the water, where it transformed the chest-high liquid they were standing in to a luminous electric blue. But as much as he wished to watch the glowing water swish through his fingers, he was distracted by the sight of the ceiling above his head.

“Rose,” he breathed, nearly moved to speechlessness. “Dazzling.”

A hundred thousand fingers of rock, ranging in size from his pinky finger to his entire body, dangled from the ceiling of the cave, stretching down to the ethereal water below. The majority of the formations were the cleanest, purest white Ignis had ever seen, sparkling in the ambient light from Laura’s orb, but there were other colors as well: oranges, blues, reds, greens, purples—every color he could think of—glittering like gemstones above his head.

“How is this possible?” he asked, turning to look at her pale-blue face lit from below.

“To be honest, I don’t know. I’ve seen air pocket caves before, but they usually exist above sea level while the entrance is underwater. Perhaps some oxygen was sealed in millions of years ago when the oceans rose. Given how deep it is, you’re likely the first human in this cave’s history to be here.” Pointing to one of the larger spirals of white reaching out for them, she said, “It takes a thousand years to create a formation ten centimeters long, so one this size takes about two hundred thousand years to create. Can you _believe_ that?”

Ignis had lost the ability to form words, so he let his emotions speak for themselves: gratitude for making him face himself to come in the first place—to brush aside irritations that seemed so trivial now in the wake of what was floating above his head; wonder at her ability to discover this and then want to share it with him enough to put up with his reticence; awe at the sheer miracle that was both the scene around him and her—his most precious soulmate.

Astrals, how he loved her—for always defending him—against his tutors, against his enemies, against his friends, against himself. 

 _Just . . . thank you doesn’t begin to cover it_ , he said, still staring up at the ceiling.

But he knew he didn’t need to thank her. He could feel her bliss at the sight of him reveling in her gift, her delight at having him there to share it with her.

 _There are an infinite number of spectacles in the multiverse,_ she said softly, wrapping their forearms and squeezing his fingers, _but they are flat and lifeless unless you have a hand to hold._

_Is that what you wanted from me, all those weeks ago? I confess I didn’t know what this meant._

She murmured warmly before answering, _It was meant to be left open to your interpretation, as I didn’t want anything from you that you weren’t willing to give. But essentially, yes._

 _You were . . . interested in me that early on?_ he asked, looking down at her in surprise.

She smiled up at him. _When are you going to start believing me? I was interested in you the moment I met you. I must admit your occasional haughtiness and subservience were less than pleasant, but then I fell in love with you in the moments in between, when you were warm and quietly passionate._

She sent him her memory of their first night by the fire, and he was horrified and thrilled in equal measure at just how much she had gleaned from the color of his thoughts that evening as he held her hand and quietly burned for her, even as she burned from his touch. She had fallen asleep on him that night with hope blossoming in her chest.

He shook his head. _And to think_ _I could have just leaned in and kissed you then. After you’d started doing the same with Prompto, I just assumed I was a means to an end._

“Oh gods,” she said under her breath, resting her chilly cheek against his chest as her hand settled around the back of his neck. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

He wrapped his arms around her, grasping at the end of the wet plait hanging at her back. “It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t be more grateful that circumstances worked out as they did.”

He was about to lean down to latch his mouth to the juncture of her shoulder, but she looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

“What is it?”

“They’re growing worried up there, and something’s happened to shock them. We’d better be heading back.”

He bent his head anyway, darting his tongue out to taste the salty skin of her neck for a moment before straightening. “I suppose we should, no matter how much I was looking forward to utilizing the privacy.”

Her voice turned small and almost needy as she said, “Do you think we can arrange some time alone in Altissia? Maybe spend the night on the boat once, that’s all I ask.”

He closed his eyes, knowing the exact reasons for both her tone and her request. Normally, he would never make such an inappropriate request to spend the night away from his liege, but given the extreme circumstances . . ..

“I shall speak to Noct to see if it can be arranged.”

“Thank you,” she said with a nod. “We should also look for some opportunity for you to try out your new abilities in a practical setting when we arrive.”

“Agreed,” he said, though he shivered at the implication of her words.

This was it, then. She was preparing to say goodbye.

***

“Iggy! Laura!” Prompto hollered as he bounced to the back of the boat. “Glad you’re still breathing!”

Ignis hauled himself out of the water before turning to help Laura up onto the deck. Glancing over at Noct, Prompto, and Gladio, he took note that they had all changed into swimwear and were still wet. They must have gone swimming while he and Laura were in the cave.

“Yeah, babe,” Gladio said, “gotta admit, even with your warning, it was kinda nerve-wracking up here waiting.”

As Ignis summoned towels for the both of them, Noct said, “Hey, Ig. I don’t get it. If you knew where Pitioss was all along, why’d you let us run around Lucis asking about it?”

Ignis whipped his eyes up to Noct, frowning. “What? I don’t know where Pitioss is.”

Laura handed him a t-shirt, which he took gratefully and put on. _Thank you, love._

“Iris sent an email,” Gladio said, handing Ignis his phone. “Didn’t think we’d get a signal out this far, but I guess Altissia would have better reception if they’re using Magitek towers or whatever.”

Ignis looked down to read the message:

_Gladdy,_

_Talcott looked through Jared’s diary again, and he found something on Pitioss. Hope this helps you guys!_

_-Iris_

This didn’t clear up the matter of being accused of knowing all along where Pitioss lay, so he opened the attachment—a photo of a hand-drawn map. Just north of Verinas Mart near the Rock of Ravatogh, there was a haven marked “Monoth” and an X marked “Pitioss Ruins.”

“It kinda sucks,” Prompto muttered. “We just left there. Who knows when we’ll be back?”

But it wasn’t the location that stilled his breath, even if he would rather never set foot near that accursed rock again; it was the fact that this piece of previously unknown intelligence was written in his own hand.

_Ignis? What’s wrong? What is it?_

Wordlessly, he handed her the phone.

“Oh, gods. Pitioss is near Ravatogh, and . . . that’s your handwriting.”

Gladio snorted. “Yeah, think we haven’t seen enough of his calligraphy shit to recognize it? When’d you draw this in Jared’s diary, Ig?”

“I’ll admit to that being my handwriting,” he answered, “but I’ve never seen Jared’s diary firsthand, nor did I know the location to Pitioss until just a moment ago.”

“Well! That makes things vastly more complicated then,” Laura said, locking the phone and handing it back to Gladio.

“Whaddya mean?” Noct asked, frowning.

“It means that Ignis is going to be doing some time traveling in the future . . . to the past.”

“Not _another_ paradoxis,” Ignis groaned.

Laura shook her head and made her way to the back bench, where she collapsed down on the cushion. “I doubt it. Paradoxis are exceedingly rare. There’s more than one way to time travel, you know.”

She looked over at him as he took a seat next to her. _At some point, you’re going to go back into the past and put that in there. The not too distant past, I’m guessing, as Talcott hadn’t seen it before yesterday._

“So . . . what are we gonna do about this?” Prompto asked.

“Wait, unfortunately. It’s how it always works. We can’t get to Pitioss right now when we’re on our way to Altissia, and we’ll just have to see what time traveling opportunities arise in the future,” Laura said.

“Huh. Not like those come along every day,” Gladio said. “But if we’re gonna find out, we’d better get going.”

“You mind if I drive this time, Laura?” Noct asked, his eyes growing wide in hope.

“I mean . . . it’s your boat,” she said with a shrug.

“Hard for him to crash into anything out here in the open,” Gladio agreed.

Noct gave Laura a shove on the shoulder as he, Prompto, and Gladio passed on their way to the captain’s console. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he chuckled.

As Noct started the boat and guided them once again toward Altissia, Ignis turned to Laura, who was sitting with her eyes closed.

 _Are you fatigued?_ he asked.

 _A little,_ she admitted. _I don’t have much call to use respiratory bypass often—only during extreme emergencies, like when all the oxygen is being sucked from the room or someone strangles me. I’d forgotten how much it wears me out._

He blinked at her in surprise. _And do things like that . . . happen often?_

She smiled a little, lying over on her side and putting her feet up on the seat. Ignis cast a quick glance at the others before reaching over and stroking her head. _Well, like I said, not the things that require bypass. You think yours is the only adventure ever taken where things go wrong? This strife may be out of your usual sphere of experience, but I’ve rarely spent so much time in leisure. I’m usually solving a problem in a universe for a day or two before moving on. It’s rare I stay longer than that._

That didn’t surprise him terribly, if he thought about it, except for perhaps the idea that she rarely stayed in one place for long. It made her decision to remain here with him for the rest of his lifespan all the more meaningful, even if she hadn’t known when making the proposal just how short a time that would be. But looking back on his first impressions of her in the Crown City—a well-trained assassin, to be sure, but ultimately a sheltered noble like himself, he couldn’t have been more wrong about her.

 _To be fair, the gown I was wearing that day would hardly convince anyone that I’d be prepared for roughing it in the wild with you guys, and then not knowing anything of your world . . .._  

He remembered the scene, which he had believed at the time to be their first meeting, well: her diminutive frame as she crouched like a wild animal over a man who had defeated him in combat training hundreds of times over, the ferocity in her gaze as she held the blade to the Marshal’s throat, and the beauty and power that seemed to radiate from her in that moment, even as the delicate embroidery had pooled over his body.

As he looked down at her now, stretched out as she was, nearly naked in her swimsuit and her hair dull and stringy from wind and salt, he could only appreciate the luminescence of her skin, the flare of her hips and breasts, the curve of her perfect lips. Sensing his admiration, she opened her eyes slowly at him, and they shimmered with a radiance that seemed to warm him from within. Even in this state, so opposed to how she had first appeared to him, she was breathtaking.

“But what about you?” she asked after a few moments. “Are _you_ all right with this time loop ahead of you?”

“I don’t know. Time travel . . .,” he shook his head, “it’s a phenomenon I only just recently learned was even real. And my first experience was . . . harrowing, to say the least. Of course I shall do it if I must, but I can’t say I’ll enjoy it.”

“I’m sorry, but yes, you must. You have to close the time loop, or you’ll _cause_ a paradox this time. If you don’t draw that map, we will have never received it, except we just did.”

“Do you see what I mean? How many end-of-the-world scenarios must I be a part of? The one I was destined and trained for was quite enough, I thought.”

 _Honestly, it’s the ink used that concerned me more,_ she said. _There’s more than one time loop at work here._

_Yes, I noticed it was of a type I’ve not seen. And I would need to get my fountain pen repaired before I create the drawing. It hasn’t been quite the same since the seadevil._

_If it’s at all possible, I’ll go with you this time. Perhaps I can even convince you to enjoy it._

He took note of her abrupt redirection of the topic but didn’t press the matter, knowing that she would, as usual, tell him what she could, when she could—no matter how much it frustrated him. _You know, I think I know exactly what I would’ve done had the Doctor come to my quarters with his blue box._

 _Oh yeah? What’s that?_ she asked, a slow smile spreading over her lips.

_I would have called him a madman and sicced the entire Crownsguard on him._

Whooping with laughter, she said, _Yeah, that’s the reaction he got most of the time. Nothing out of the ordinary there!_

At the sound of her laughter, so very full of that life he adored, Ignis was nearly overcome with the desire to swoop down and taste her mouth; to graze his fingers over every inch of her sticky, salty skin; to ravish her right there on the bench. How many opportunities would they get to be alone together in Altissia? In the rest of what little time they had left together? It seemed cities afforded them far fewer chances than in the wild.

 _Hey,_ she said, no doubt sensing his sudden wave of melancholia, _you’ve been doing that today—and hiding your thoughts from me. What’s wrong?_

Did she truly think he hadn’t put the pieces together? They had very nearly discussed it directly after Ravatogh. Or was this sort of foreknowledge so common to her that she thought nothing of its gravity? Exhaling forcefully, he replied, _It’s nothing. I should go and get cleaned up before our arrival._

 _All right,_ she said slowly. _Just . . . know you can talk to me about anything that’s bothering you, yeah?_

He nodded before standing. They would have to talk about it—soon. But not today. Not today.

***

After rinsing the conditioner from his hair, he stood in the little shower stall, balancing himself against the gentle rocking of the boat as they grew close enough to Altissia for Noct to slow down some. As much as he would’ve liked to have waited until they made it to their hotel room, the sensation of the dry salt on his skin and the stiff, itchy feeling of his hair as it dried had been irritating him since he’d gotten out of the water.

He glanced down at his aching erection distastefully. As busy as he’d been back home, Ignis had rarely taken the opportunity to truly indulge in autoeroticism—to thoroughly lose himself in the pleasure of it. More often than not, masturbation was more a convenient means to find some temporary relief from the hormones he couldn’t seem to control. After regular, far more satisfying encounters with Rose these past weeks, it seemed that ten days without her was all his body would abide by, and he was going to need to resort to old habits before he embarrassed himself in public.

As he was reaching down to take himself in hand to alleviate his issue as efficiently as possible, he felt something even warmer and wetter than the shower water slip down around him. He looked down in confusion for a moment. Nothing had changed visually, but _oh_ it felt so real, as though he were truly inside her.

 _Rose?_ he asked hesitantly.

 _Yes?_ she asked, her mental voice sounding breathless.

_Is that you?_

_Yes,_ she chuckled. _Were you expecting someone else?_

He closed his eyes and braced himself against the wall of the shower stall with both hands, letting the prickling warm water combine with the slip and cling of her sex stretching to accommodate him. _Oh_ what an erotic sensation to feel her so precisely around him when she wasn’t even here with him! Experimenting, he gave a little thrust into the air and was rewarded with the sensation of sliding deeper into her delicious, wet heat.

_No, of course not. I . . . ohhh, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going mad._

In addition to the feeling of being inside her, a warm, phantom tongue and lips enveloped his testicles in that moment, and he had to bite back the cry that rose up his throat. As it was, he couldn’t control the thought that popped unbidden into his mind.

_Ohhh, fuck._

Her movements faltered for a moment, which allowed him the opportunity to compose himself enough to say, _Apologies._

 _No. Say it again,_ she seemed to whisper directly into his ear so that he swore he could feel her hot breath tickling him. She followed up her command with a scrape of teeth to the bulge of his jawbone and a tight squeeze to his erection.

_Fuck, Rose!_

_Yessss, Ignis,_ she hissed. _Come for me, beautiful._

_This isn’t . . . oh gods, Rose, this isn’t fair to you. Can you feel this too?_

_No, because you aren’t sending me anything. I agree it is quite unfair. You should probably do something about that._

He gasped as she tightened her grip around him. _Tell me what to do._

 _It’s just like speaking, love. Just imagine what you’re doing to me and project. As you can probably tell by now, you aren’t limited by physicality in this realm._ At this, he felt yet another mouth at the pulse point on the other side of his neck, licking with a hot, wet tongue and scraping teeth over his sensitive skin.

With a colossal effort, he shoved aside the physical sensations his body was feeling for a moment in his desire to please her. His mind raced through their every encounter, collecting each of the ways he had touched her that had made her gasp: entering her, tasting her skin, nibbling on her nipples, running his lips and teeth over her neck, dragging his tongue through her folds, and stroking her ribs with the very tips of his fingers.

The invisble hands on his shoulders, which had been stroking softly as she moved on him, stilled as he slowly added each of those feelings to their connection, and that tingling, almost achy satisfaction of being filled echoed through their bond, building that familiar blaze of her pleasure that only served to increase his.

 _Yes. Ignis,_ she moaned. _I don’t think . . . I don’t think I’ll last long, as worked up as we both are._

 _That’s rather fortunate. I don’t believe I will . . .._ He gasped and threw his head back above the shower spray, his eyes rolling up into his head as tight tingles shot down his legs, making his knees tremble.

Determined as always to bring her to climax with him, he braced himself against the wall of the shower stall once more as he moved over her in his mind, imagining swooping down to lick below her ear and tasting her sweet fragrance; burying his fingers in her hair, pressing his lips to her mouth, and capturing her tongue with his; letting his fingertips dance across her collarbones and down to her breasts, cupping them. It really wasn’t that different from every time he’d fantasized about her.

 _Rose,_ he groaned as he felt her tightening around him, and he shuddered, tensing so he could hold on that little bit longer.

_Yes, I know. Me too._

Just as he felt her beginning to flutter around him, he opened his eyes, leaning forward and exhaling sharply as he watched his completely untouched erection pulse and shoot thick streams of his seed against the wall. After rinsing, he stood for a moment in the stall with his forehead pressed against the tiles, basking in their combined and somewhat unexpected afterglow as his heart returned to its normal rhythm.

_That was . . . I didn’t know we could do that. How is such a thing possible?_

_How can you hear my voice when the vibrations of my vocal cords aren’t reaching your ears? The mind is a powerful thing. I’ve been . . . sort of saving that as a surprise._

_Well,_ he said as he shut the water off, _color me surprised. Thank you._

_I would say the pleasure was ours, dear._

_Yes, it most certainly was._

After styling his hair and getting dressed, he spent a few moments inspecting his flushed cheeks in the tiny mirror. He was about to rejoin everyone upstairs when he felt Laura’s mind grow alarmed.

 _What is it?_ he asked.

It took far too long, in his mind, for her to respond, _Noct just gave me a[Cosmogony book](https://i.imgur.com/S2fU0nY.png) he picked up for us right as we left Caem._

 _And what in it alarms you so?_ he asked, his heart filling with dread. How much more bad news could they expect in Altissia?

_15: 2 "Nadir.” Ardyn is “the Wicked.”_


	45. Chapter 45

The conversation had stopped long enough for Iggy to make up some lame-ass story about the five of them being students of the “culinary arts” to get through customs, but the second they passed through the pavilion, it picked back up again.

“So then him being infected _and_ immortal isn’t a coincidence? It’s not just some kinda freak accident?” Prompto asked.

“I don’t think so, but as the source is a religious text, it’s just as dubious as the almanac, if you ask me,” Laura said, shaking her head. “This doesn’t necessarily mean he’s the source of the scourge on the planet. In fact, the book said that the soil and sky were already blighted when the Wicked was working the plague.”

“But he practically straight up told you he was the bad guy!” Prompto argued, his voice raising in pitch and volume as he threw his hands in the air.

“Kindly keep your voice down,” Iggy said, taking a left and leading them down the crowded street— hopefully toward the Leville.

Even though they hadn’t really done all that much today, Noct was exhausted, and it felt like he had a headache coming on. He could only hope that didn’t mean Leviathan was gonna start sending tidal waves as she tried to break into his mind like Titan had.

“He warned ‘Shiva’ that ‘the leader’ was the Wicked. Doubtless she would know the true story in its entirety and wouldn’t need to rely on the Cosmogony for the truth. I’m speculating he was referring to himself because he’s the only Starscourged immortal hanging around,” Laura said. “I’m suspecting he’s the darkness that Noct has to face to fulfill the prophecy, though.”

“Speculation is a dangerous tool,” Iggy said. “I’d sooner not rely on it.”

“Yeah, not that I trust the guy at all, but if he’s ‘the darkness,’ why hasn’t he made a real move toward us?” Gladio asked.

“Yeah, he’s actually been helping us, even if he’s been a pain in the ass about it,” Noct added.

“Language,” Iggy gently reminded him, “and do keep in mind that he’s threatened Laura on more than one occasion and implied that he’s done something to Ifrit. I’m certainly not suggesting that he isn’t highly dangerous.”

“Threatened with what though? Every time we see him, he doesn’t do anything but flirt with her,” Prompto said.

“Don’t think killing her with his pickup game is what he was implying, but Prompto’s got a point,” Gladio said. “Could he just be bluffing to cover for the Emperor? The Emperor was the one who attacked Insomnia, and he’s the one sending us troops for target practice all the time.”

Laura skimmed her fingers over the concrete bridge rail as they crossed over a canal, looking out over the water to watch a gondola pass underneath them. “I don’t know. Ardyn wants something from us, and instinct is screaming at me not to trust him, even if he hasn’t shown a hint of violence.” She let out a sigh. “This is where the ability to figure things out in time would really come in handy.”

“You got any insights, Specs?” Noct asked, turning to Ignis.

He frowned before replying, “I’m afraid not, regretfully.”

“Nor is it your responsibility to know everything about everything,” Laura said sternly, pointing a finger at him. “This story is old, complex, and hidden, and the onus is on _all_ of us to keep our eyes and ears open.”

“Yeah,” Noct said. “Don’t worry about it. Whatever happens, happens.”

“Noct is right . . . for once,” Laura said, shooting him a teasing grin. He was about to protest and give her a shove, but her face grew serious and sad. “As much as I hate it, we just have to wait until we’re presented directly with the problem. Story of my life. Guess it gets to be the story of yours now, too.”  

“Well, ‘the problem’ is probably gonna show up here at some point. Ardyn said he and Ravus had business with Leviathan,” Gladio said. “Stop Noct from getting her blessing.”

“Yes,” Iggy agreed as they drew closer to a red-awninged building that proudly displayed the stylized L of the Leville chain. “All the more reason to keep a weather eye on all we can.”

This Leville looked a lot nicer than the one they’d been staying at in Lestallum—still old, but better taken care of, with more of an effort put into making it at least kinda feel luxurious. It’d never be as nice as even his apartment back home, but Noct had grown used to roughing it these past couple months. He’d take anywhere with a bed and a real bathroom over a haven any day.

He’d angled himself to stride straight to the check-in counter, but as he passed through the open entryway into the plushly-carpeted lobby, he caught sight of Umbra and Gentiana waiting for him next to the bench in the middle of the room, and he pivoted to change his direction.

“Gentiana,” he greeted.

Instead of greeting them all in return, Gentiana lowered her head and bent over Umbra, stroking the dog’s fluffy neck.

“Ahead lies a future uncertain,” she said quietly, “yet sure is the astral memory, wherein the King may walk.”

When she straightened, she held out a fist to him, and for a half a second, he thought she wanted to . . . fist bump him? It made the same amount of sense as whatever it was she’d just said. But he figured she maybe wanted to give him something, so he held out a hand as the rest of the group behind him drew closer to look. He felt a small, cool, metal object fall into his palm, and he pulled back his hand to see what looked like a dog tag about the size of a gil with a pawprint stamped on it.

“What does that even mean?” he asked, looking back up at her, but she and Umbra had already disappeared. That sucked. Why’d she keep doing that? He wished she’d stuck around long enough to explain herself, maybe even answer whether she knew anything about Ardyn or the Wicked.

“Pleasure as always, Gentiana” Laura said sarcastically, waving a hand in the air. “Thanks for the detailed info!”

Iggy leaned in close to Noct’s open hand, tilting his head and squinting at the amulet. “That golden power of Eos,” he comented under his breath before turning to Laura.

“Feels like it,” Laura agreed, but Noct couldn’t see how they could tell—especially Iggy. “I’m guessing she was referring to the past when she said ‘astral memory,’ to contrast with ‘future uncertain.’ May I see it?”

“A ‘time-traveling opportunity’?” Iggy asked as Noct placed the amulet into her open palm.

“Let’s check. Best not to do this directly in sight of everyone,” she said as she headed for the dark corner behind the staircase. “Would you all mind putting those muscles to good use and blocking me from view?”

“Sure thing!” Prompto said, moving to stand in front of her. Noct had to roll his eyes a little as he stood at an angle to her. Prompto was only like, an inch taller than she was and didn’t do too much to hide her from view. Once Gladio and Iggy had taken their places and actually did most of the work making sure she was hidden, Laura gripped the pendant in her fist and closed her eyes. Before she’d opened them again, Noct knew that she’d summoned that freaky gold power, since it always made his fingertips tingle and his arms burn a little.

Her expression was blank as she stared up at the ceiling, but the bright blue of her eyes was veined in swirls of gold as she said in a low, quiet voice, “Looks like it uses Umbra to take us back to Lucis a couple of days before we left . . . in your dreams?”

She shook her head, clearing the gold, before handing the amulet back to him. “It’s a complex bit of magic, erasing the awareness of our past selves each time we return so there aren’t hundreds of us running around Lucis bumping into each other, but the effects of our past selves remain part of the timeline. Even the people we interact with will remember it as a dream, if at all.”

“Guess we know we’re gonna use it at some point, if Ig has to put the drawing in the diary,” Gladio said.

“It sounds as though we’ll all be able to go together this time,” Iggy said, looking to Laura. “Is there any danger in using such an item?”

“I’ve never seen an item combine dream magic with temporal mechanics like this before, but the design is actually quite elegant; it should prevent any paradoxes.”

“So what do I do if I wanna go back?” Noct asked.

“Just call Umbra when you’re ready for bed, I think. The amulet contains a strong telepathic link with him.”

“We should probably handle this after the rite, though. The timing would be better.”

Iggy’s brow shot down sharply as he frowned. “ _After_ the rite, did you say? I’m to complete this drawing _after_ the rite?”

“Uhh . . . yeah. That okay?” Noct asked. Usually that face meant Specs was upset with him about something, but his words didn’t sound like it.

Iggy’s eyes darted to Laura and back to him almost instantly, and Noct noticed that even Laura seemed confused by whatever was going on. “Y—yes, Highness,” he said hesitantly, his expression still hard. “As you wish.”

“It’s gonna be all right this time, Specs,” he reassured him, “We’re all gonna go together.” Pointing a thumb back toward the desk, he said, “Why don’t I go check us in?”

As the guy at the desk was getting him the key to their room, Gladio appeared beside him. “Hey,” he said leaning in close, “I’ve been thinking about Iggy and Laura.”

“Yeah?”

He’d been thinking about Iggy and Laura, too. Not only had he fucked up yesterday, but he’d probably started some kinda fight between the two of them. And while those two _always_ seemed to fight, it was usually about history or science or something—not like, real stuff. That had been his fault, just like Ravatogh had been his fault, just like Iggy’s entire life had been his fault, and damn it, as weird as it was that Iggy was part of a pair now, he didn’t wanna come between them and ruin something else for him.

He didn’t see why Specs felt the need to hide how serious it had gotten, except maybe to make Noct feel better about the whole thing? He’d been trying to think of some kinda gesture— _something_ he could do to show he was okay with this relationship, strange as it was to him, but so far, he hadn’t been able to think of anything.

“Well, you know how he was back in Insomnia. Guy worked his ass off since he was a kid. Hasn’t had much fun in his life,” Gladio said, glowering.

“Yeah,” he muttered. Noct knew this all too well now, but he didn’t see what Gladio was getting at.

“Well, we’re in this romantic city. He’s got a girlfriend for the first time in his life, but they’ve both been camping and sleeping in rooms with the rest of us. They’ve been pretty good about not making it awkward, either. I was thinking maybe you should do something for ‘em.”

“Yeah, me too. Got any ideas though?”

“Well, I know you wanna visit the Arena in a coupla days, and knowing you, you’ll wanna be there all damn day.”

“Gladio, get to the point,” he said, taking the key from the clerk and turning to face Gladio directly.

“Well, that’s not gonna be Laura’s thing. So I was thinking maybe a couple of nights from now after we’ve settled in, get ‘em their own room and give ‘em off the next day while we go to the Arena.”

It seemed like a good idea; it wasn’t like they were gonna need either of them until the day of the rite, and they still needed to talk to whoever was in charge here before they could even set a date for that. Seemed like this was the perfect thing he could do as his gesture—give Iggy some of his life back, and maybe he’d find more excuses to hang out at the Arena and send them off on their own thing while they were in town.

“Good idea,” he said with a nod. “I’ll make a reservation for a couple of nights from now. Should give us enough time to see what’s around.”

***

Despite being some kind of multiverse-hopping time traveler, Laura seemed charmed by the city as they meandered the streets to the gondola stop to make their way to Weskham’s after breakfast the following morning.

“It’s almost as though Paris and Venice had a child city, but with that touch of fantasy,” she sighed as she leaned over a bridge just outside the hotel to watch a passing gondola. “The architecture with the waterfalls . . . just lovely. And the scent! Bread, pastries, and flowers on the air—who could ask for better than that? I can practically taste a pâtisserie with every breath!”

“Yeah,” Prompto also sighed. “I woulda thought the city with all the canals would make it smell kinda nasty, but this is great.”

“This place does possess a certain dreamlike quality,” Iggy agreed, coming up behind her to look out over the bridge, “but I believe the infrastructure is in much better condition than Venice—and far cleaner than both Venice and Paris.”

Since Noct had never heard of Venice or Paris and didn’t know when Iggy had done any reports on cities by those names, he refrained from commenting.

As they wove their way through the colorful buildings covered in flower boxes, stalls selling everything from souvenirs to pastries to flowers, and all the people milling about in the streets, it seemed like everyone was talking about Luna’s wedding dress on display.

“They’re extending the exhibit for Lady Lunafreya’s wedding dress.”

“The Vivienne Westwood? But wasn’t that a memorial for her passing?”

“Well, now it’s a memorial for her safe return. Let’s go see it while we still can!”

“If the Prince is still alive, they should go ahead with the wedding.”

“Yeah, they just need him to show up. Doesn’t he know it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?”

Prompto hit Noct a couple of times on the shoulder, asking, “Could that be the dress we read about in the papers back in Galdin?”

“Doubtless,” Iggy replied. “The designer’s name is the same—one of Altissia’s most foremost fashion designers.”

“You guys think we should go see it? I was supposed to get a picture of it one way or another,” Prompto said, nudging Noct’s elbow with a wink.

“That depends on the groom. Might still be a sore spot, what with his wedding getting called off,” Gladio said.

“Who says we can’t call it back on?” Prompto asked. “It can still happen!”

“Yeah, sure, I guess.” Noct said with a sigh. “Depends on what Weskham has for us though. Probably has some hunts or something.”

Noct didn’t really see what the big deal was. Even though it might’ve been kinda interesting to see what Luna had picked out to wear for him when they got married, he didn’t understand why the entire town was freaking out about it—it was just a bunch of fabric someone else was gonna wear for their own wedding, not the public’s.

It took a few minutes talking with the gondola driver before they figured out where exactly they were going. Noct thought the guy was being deliberately stupid when he couldn’t figure out that ‘Magoo’s Diner’ was actually supposed to be ‘Maagho Café,’ but whatever. Laura seemed to get it straightened out when she asked for Weskham’s establishment, and when she started asking about the guy’s life, ‘Steve’ was only too happy to chat them up until they started talking among themselves again.

“The Archaean’s awakening resulted in the destruction of the Disc, yet the government proceeds with the rite. There’s more to this than we understand,” Iggy said from the couch at the back of the gondola.

“I imagine relations are complex, what with them being independent yet occupied by the Empire,” Laura said. “And it seems both we and the Empire want to awaken Leviathan, so they have little choice.”

Noct leaned over the back of his armchair to look back at them both and said, “We’ll see what Weskham has to say about it when we get there.”

“And then perhaps we should see about begging an audience with Camelia Claustra, the First Secretary of the Accordo Protectorate. Though it sounds as though we have her tentative cooperation, we’ll need to coordinate to ensure both your and Lady Lunafreya’s safety during the rite.”

“Guess we could do that after.”

They ended up learning more than they expected to at Weskham’s, but not really that much from Weskham himself that they didn’t already know—only the hunts in the area and that Luna would be making an address to the Accordion citizens before the rite took place. But while they were waiting for Iggy and Laura to finish buying bottles of wine for them all that evening and gushing over all the ingredients available at the gondola markets surrounding Maagho, Camelia saved them the trouble of tracking her down by showing up at the café.

She raised her chin in the air, trying to look down at Noct with cold eyes, but Noct had seen this tactic from a lot of people in his life, and he glared right back.

“Gentlemen, I won’t waste your time. My name is Camelia Claustra. You should know we have Lady Lunafreya in our care, and the Empire demands we surrender her,” she said.

Noct couldn’t think of anything to say back. It didn’t really matter what this lady thought, because there was no way the Empire was gonna get their hands on Luna, even if they had to fight Accordo in addition to the Empire. He’d seen Iggy get results by remaining neutral with people, so he decided to go with Iggy’s strategy.

“What?” he asked, hoping she would say more.

“Yet I am loath to acquiesce unless we stand to profit. Hence, I’ve come to discuss terms with the King of Lucis. If you’ve a mind to talk, come to my estate. Five o’clock this evening, perhaps?”

“We’ll be there,” Noct said in a firm voice, standing just as straight as she was and staring her down.

“Good,” she replied with a nod. “Perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

Weskham paused in polishing a glass and watched Camelia’s retreating back as she strode back to her gondola, her heels thunking rhythmically on the wooden dock of the café. “She can be oblique at the best of times, but I assure you, her heart is in the right place,” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” Noct mumbled. From where he was standing, with her holding Luna’s safety over his head, he wasn’t really sure about where her heart was. “Come on guys, let’s go.”

 It wasn’t until they’d gotten back on the gondola that anyone spoke. “It kinda sounds like they’re holding Lady Lunafreya hostage or something,” Prompto said. “I hope she’s okay.”

“The First Secretary didn’t strike me as the sort to be cruel. Compared to her time in Niflheim-occupied Tenebrae, Lady Lunafreya is likely being well-treated,” Iggy said. “Still, I don’t appreciate that she even implied that giving the Oracle to Niflheim was an option.”

“Consider the position she’s in. She has a powerful empire on one side of her people and a king and the gods on the other. She needs to feel like she has something to bargain with so she can protect her citizens,” Laura said. “That kind of desperation is probably forcing her to play a hard and fast game she doesn’t want to play.”

“Well, our appointment should get whatever she wants to discuss out of the way,” Noct said. “Luna comes first, and there’s no way she’s gonna get handed over to the Empire. Ig, you need to do any research before the meeting or something?”

“I imagine negotiations would go more smoothly after getting some insight into her motivations, yes, Highness.”

“Well, we got pretty much all day. All our hunts are daemons, so we can take care of those after we meet with her,” Gladio said.

“Can we visit the dress on the way back to the hotel though? I’ve been itchin’ to get some pictures of stuff besides city streets and buildings,” Prompto said, raising a hand.

Noct rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, let’s go see what all the fuss is about.”

The place was easy to find, even if it wasn’t really on the way back to the hotel, because as they descended the last flight of stairs that would take them to the street the shop was supposed to be on, it was the only window on the whole block that was surrounded by people.  

“One helluva crowd!” Prompto remarked as they threaded their way through the people milling around in front of the window, over which was situated the curling gold letters that identified it as _Vivienne Westwood_.

“Oh, the dress is so beautiful! I want mine to be like that,” a woman gushed as they maneuvered past her.

“And it _shall_ be my love—as surely as I am your Prince Noctis,” replied the man in a gooey tone as he walked along beside her, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.

Gladio smirked down at Noct and said, “Looks like the Prince has quite the following too.”

“Ugh, that’s disgusting,” Noct said with a grimace. He sure hoped people weren’t like, trying to re-enact some kind of fairytale romance with the two of them as characters. How creepy would that be?

“Escapism,” Laura said with a nod. “Sometimes, celebrities’ lives are all people have to cling to as a distraction from the darkness of their own. It just happens, Noct. Best to ignore it.”

“Yeah? Let’s see if you say the same thing when we get the town re-enacting yours and Iggy’s relationship.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “If you were to believe the story of my lore everywhere I’ve been, I’ve been happily and unhappily married to more genders and species than you have a name for, including close family relations. I’ve cheated on spouses, murdered spouses, used their bones to create the universe . . . there’s nothing you could make up about me that could shock me anymore.”

“And that’s the dress. My word,” Ignis breathed in awe, probably to change the subject more than anything. But Noct followed his gaze and caught sight of Luna’s bright white dress as though there were a spotlight making it stand out from everything else on the rest of the street.

He took a couple of steps toward the window, reaching out a hand to touch the glass separating him from the mannequin and angular layers of white fabric. It wasn’t really the dress itself that captured his imagination. To him, it was just still a dress, but he imagined the day Luna must’ve sat down with the designer, or whatever someone did when making a dress like this. Did she choose the design in the hope that he would like seeing her in it? How much was he on her mind as she picked out her shoes, veil, and jewelry?

She’d been willing to become his wife for the rest of her life as the symbol of peace; just how much did she care for him to agree to that? She’d somehow gotten the Ring out of Insomnia. She’d started forging the covenants with the Six, and he knew from experience now just how much contact with the gods took out of a mortal. She’d escaped from the Empire, hiding as she traveled Lucis to meet with Titan and Ramuh before coming here. Her journey seemed to have been just as rough as their own, if not more so. He could’ve brushed the idea off as he’d always done, thinking she’d only agreed out of obligation, but everything she’d done since Insomnia fell proved she was willing to go to extremes—just like Gladio, Iggy, and Prompto—to keep him safe.

Did all that really mean that she loved him as much as they loved him? Why? Everything that made him special he’d been born with: his title, his destiny, pretty much everything that made him Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum. What was it that these people saw in him that made him worth following, and how could he become that person? He’d do anything if it meant not letting them down, if it meant not letting her down. He’d promised, after all.

“Everyone looks so happy,” Prompto said. “And it’s all because of this one dress. Real glad for you that Lady Lunafreya’s safe and sound.”

Noct had been rushing into this ever since his dad had announced the treaty, but he hadn’t really given any thought to what a marriage to Luna would mean. He was supposed to become her husband. Keeping her safe was supposed become part of his duty. He hadn’t done much to ensure it lately; it had pretty much been the other way around.

“Yeah,” he said so quietly he didn’t think anyone had heard him.

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder and looked up to see Ignis staring down at him, his expression soft, serious, and burning with some kind of intensity Noct couldn’t understand. Iggy’s eyes flickered in Laura’s direction for a split second before meeting Noct’s again.

“And we’ll ensure she remains so,” Ignis said.  

“Well that settles it,” Gladio said, stepping up behind him and slapping him hard on the shoulder. “You gotta make it happen—become a symbol of the peace. After we tie up all the loose ends, let’s think about the ceremony.”

“A fine idea,” Ignis replied with a nod.

Noct let his gaze drift to the portrait of Luna hanging just behind the dress. He had so many pictures of her that she’d sent in the diary over the years, but this one was close-up and larger than life. Her bright golden hair was pulled back, except for the part up front that seemed to want to fall into her shining blue eyes. Her sweet smile seemed to light up her entire face, and he wondered what had made her happy like that.

It had been so long since he’d seen her. Could he make her happy like that? She was about to become a _real_ person in his life, not just a girl in a book. Did he love her enough to marry her of his own free will now that it wasn’t required? What even _was_ love, anyway? He’d really only just started understanding what he shared with Iggy, Gladio, and Prompto on this trip, and he was sure he felt that for Luna too. But the kinda feelings that made someone get married? That was different.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “I’ll think about it.”

Noct caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Prompto jumping up and down, pointing at a poster. Noct couldn’t see what it said from his spot in front of the dress, but he could make out the curls of swooping calligraphy and an image of a mask on the glossy paper.

“Hey, look guys!” Prompto almost shouted, still pointing and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Says there’s gonna be a masquerade ball tomorrow night in honor of Lady Lunafreya’s return! Looks like the whole town’s gonna dress up, but only the high rollers get an invite to the estate. Can we pleeeease go, Noct? I’ve never been to a fancy ball! We could get dressed up in costumes and take pictures and dance the night away!”

“Whaddya say, Noct? It’ll be different than Insomnia, and maybe a good place to find a date,” Gladio said in a thick, oozing voice, elbowing him in the ribs.

“I dunno,” Noct said with a frown.

He’d had enough of royal functions back home; they were so godsdamn boring and uncomfortable—all the small talk, the people gawping at him, Iggy getting on his ass about everything from his table manners to every word that came out of his mouth. During his birthday ball last year, he’d accidentally gotten powdered sugar on his raiment, and the press had had a field day about the ‘dubious nature’ of his and Iggy’s relationship when they caught them with cameras behind a fake tree as Iggy used his wet handkerchief to get the white patch out of his black fabric. But maybe this could be different, since it wasn’t like he’d be the center of attention at this one. There’d probably be great food, and they could always slip out early if it got boring.

“What do you guys think?” he asked, turning to Iggy and Laura. If they seemed interested, he could turn it into another nice thing he could do for them.

Laura looked up to Ignis and tilted her head, giving him a slow, wide smile. “I always heard that the Royal Chamberlain attended more functions than anyone in the kingdom. I believe I’d like to dance with a man that has so much experience.”

Iggy ducked his head and looked down at his feet, but Noct caught the flash of pink on his cheeks and the twitch of a smile on his lips. Seemed like they’d gotten past whatever fight they’d gotten into because of him, at least.

When Iggy looked back up, his expression was serious, but there was still color on his face as he answered, “I suppose attending will serve some very small measure in helping us blend in. I’m certain the First Secretary will extend us an invitation to her manor if negotiations go well.”

“Yeah! Blending in! Come on, Noct . . . pleeeease?” Prompto pleaded.

“All right then, we’ll go to the ball,” Noct sighed wearily, rolling his eyes. “Did you pack us formalwear that doesn’t include royal raiment, Specs?”

“You wound me, Highness,” Ignis said, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “I did indeed pack appropriate attire for the two of us, and formalwear was included on the list I sent to both Gladio and Prompto.”

“Brought my tux, so you know I’m gonna look hot,” Gladio said as he bobbed his head.

Prompto grimaced a little, his hands fidgeting in front of him as he answered, “I mean . . . I brought the best stuff I have. Should be good.”

“What you brought will do just fine, Prompto. I did check it over before we left, and there are also a few things we can supplement from Noct’s wardrobe, if necessary,” Iggy reassured him. He looked down at Laura. “I assume you and your Pocket have something appropriate?”

“There are at least a dozen things I could wear in there.”

“I confess I didn’t have the foresight to bring masks, however. Perhaps the four of you could choose a mask for me while I return to the hotel and begin my research?”

“Yeah, we could do that, no problem,” Gladio said.

“I actually already have a mask, so no need for me to go shopping,” Laura said. “Not my first masquerade, you can imagine. There was this one time I had to stop these Receptalians, man-eating trashcans, during Carnival in Venice . . . never mind, long story, as always.” She turned to Ignis and said quietly, “I have a mask I believe would suit you perfectly, if you care to use it.”

“If you believe it appropriate, then I should very much appreciate that,” he returned in a soft tone.

“All right, so the three of us can go get masks while you two get started on the research,” Noct said. He might’ve thought Laura and Iggy were just angling to get some time alone, but he knew Iggy. No way was he gonna slack on a task when there was work to be done. And since Laura did all that research so fast on Insomnia when she’d arrived, they’d probably have a good strategy by the time they got back.

“Ignis can probably handle his research back at the hotel,” Laura said. “My version is a bit different. I’ll be at the Secretary’s estate.”

“All right, whatever,” he said, not even wanting to know the details of _that_ plan. “Just don’t get caught or piss anyone off. We’ll meet up at the room around lunch then.”

***

Specs was sitting at the ornately carved desk in the corner when they opened the door to their room a few hours later, his laptop open and papers stacked in two neat piles in front of him.

“Here Ig, brought ya lunch,” Prompto said, handing him a horntooth meat pie. “It’s one of your favorites, isn’t it?”

“Why, yes, it is. Thank you Prompto.”

“Where’s Laura? Harder to tell what her favorite stuff is, but we got her this salad that has like, all this stuff in it. Seemed up her alley.”

“She should be returning any moment,” Iggy said before taking a bite of his pie and chewing appreciatively.  

“Were you able to find anything on the Secretary?” Noct asked.

Ignis set the pie down on the wrapper and sighed. “I’m afraid there isn’t much reliable information to be found in written records. Most of what I uncovered was speculation from gossip and similarly questionable sources. Camelia Claustra, First Secretary of Accordo, aged forty-eight—”

The door opened, and Noct’s eyes flickered to the new addition before turning back to Iggy. He’d thought it might’ve been Laura returning from the Secretary’s estate, but it had only been a maid coming in to clean the room.

Ignis’s eyes seemed to follow every movement of the maid behind Noct as he continued speaking, and Noct was surprised that he would keep carrying the conversation on with a stranger in the room like that. But he guessed the topic wasn’t all that sensitive. “Impressions on several political sites show her to be rather stern, but fair-minded. She has the reputation for placing the needs of her people first, and for that, she is well-respected despite continued Imperial manipulation of the nation.”

“We could do something with that,” Gladio said. “At least we know her priorities, which’ll be good leverage from a negotiation standpoint.” 

Noct could feel the presence of the maid hovering behind him—hear her breath, feel the shift of her weight on the plush carpet, smell her perfume. What the hell?

“Hey, would ya mind?” he snapped, turning to face her and shoo her out of the room. He hoped she wasn’t waiting for a tip or something, especially with how rude she was being. He froze, however, when he finally turned to face her, his mouth dropping open in shock.

She stepped back, her eyes going wide. “Sorry.”

“Noct?” Iggy asked in concern.

It was Laura, looking more ordinary than he’d ever seen her, in a utilitarian short-sleeved black dress that ended just past her knees and a white apron that tied around the back of her neck and waist. Her hair was slicked back and pulled into a tight, severe bun. She never wore stuff like makeup, but there was something about the rough fabric of her outfit, the simplicity of her hairstyle, and even the chunkiness of her shoes that made her face look like every other human chambermaid at the Citadel. He couldn’t believe that after traveling with her for over two months, seeing her for hours on end every day, an outfit change was all it took for him to just overlook her like that.

“Oh . . . it’s . . . you,” he stammered awkwardly. “Sorry. I thought you were . . ..”

“You thought I was a maid,” she said with a smirk. “The art of disguise is knowing how to hide in plain sight. That’s the trouble with uniforms and name badges, people stop looking at faces. Honestly, you lot would be better off with clown outfits—at least they’d be satirically relevant.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be creepy as fuck,” Gladio muttered, but then his expression turned downright pornographic as he looked her up and down. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to have a feather duster and a pair of fishnet stockings in that Pocket of yours, would ya? Maybe some stilettos?”

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head, her eyes narrowing in a predatory expression. She stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest, looking up at him. Her voice grew soft and seductive as she purred, “You plan on giving Ignis the night of his life? I don’t think what I have would fit you.”

“May the Archaean bury me alive,” Iggy muttered, bringing a stack of notes to his forehead to cover his face. “Kindly omit me from this . . . suggestiveness, if you please.”

“So!” Prompto interrupted, thrusting the salad container between her and Gladio. “What were you doin’ today, Laura? Dusting furniture?” He laughed uncomfortably as she took it from him and smiled brightly.

“Cheers. Thanks, Prom, this was thoughtful of you.” She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, transforming his face into a tomato as he glanced in Iggy’s direction, before she settled down on the couch next to the desk. “Oh, this is lovely. I don’t recognize half of what’s in here, but try this, Ignis.”

She held her fork out to him, and he leaned to take a bite. Noct had gotten the impression they were far more than fuck buddies back in Ravatogh, but seeing them do something . . . coupley like sharing eating utensils was kinda shocking.

“Hmm,” he said, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing. “Reminds me of the one we had with the goat cheese and cranberries. But wait a moment.” His keen eyes narrowed at her as they swept from her feet to the top of her head. “I’ve seen you dressed in that very same costume before.”

Her gaze was wide and innocent as she replied, “I didn’t think you’d remember.”

“All this time, and you never thought to bring it up? I’d asked you so many times where I’d met you before.”

“You didn’t spare me a second glance!” she argued. “I honestly thought you’d recognized me from the library!”

“Well, you were obviously mistaken,” he said, pointing his pie accusingly at her. “I recall you distinctly, now that I’ve seen you in that costume.”

“Ignis,” she sighed. “Think about it from my perspective. When you were asking me where you’d met me, you thought I was a Lucian noble, then a noble of some other country. I could hardly tell you that _that_ was our true first meeting. And then after the paradoxis, I didn’t think to bring it up again.”

“Uh, guys?” Prompto asked hesitantly. “Explanation? That’d be great.”

Ignis looked over at Prompto. “The chef had allowed me the use of the kitchen for the evening to make Noct’s pastries not three nights before we left.” He set down his pie in favor of pointing an accusing finger at Laura, his voice growing disbelieving as he said, “And _that_ woman was scrubbing the kitchen floors and . . . chatting up the Poissonnier!”

“Well, when I said I researched the Crown City before offering my help, you didn’t really think that meant just sitting in a library, did you? Domestic approach, that’s always been my way. And I had to avoid Crystal servants, didn’t I? _You_ shouldn’t have been in the kitchen!”

Iggy spluttered before answering, “Well, did this _domestic approach_ of yours yield any fruitful information?”

She turned to Noct. “Well, I wasn’t dusting furniture. I was changing linens today, actually, which is how I ended up speaking to Lunafreya.”

“What? How did you—Is she all right?” Noct jumped up from his chair and stared down at her, his breath seeming to grow ragged, even if he didn’t know why. Why had she waited so long to say this?

“She’s fine, Noct,” she said gently. “She sends her love. She’s actually staying as a guest, not a prisoner, of the Secretary at the estate, though she expects that to change as soon as the Empire arrives for the rite. I was sent to her room to change her bedding.”

“So she’s safe,” he sighed and collapsed back down in his chair. “She’s happy though, considering?”

Laura hesitated, and he didn’t like the look that crossed her face as she answered. “She’s been through a lot. Those covenants take a lot out of a person, as you know. But I told her that we were planning to attend the masquerade at the estate tomorrow night. She’s gotten us invitations, and she’s having Gentiana secure her a costume that should sufficiently hide her identity.”

“Wait, she’s going to the masquerade?” Noct asked hopefully.

“That’s not a good idea,” Gladio said. “The place is sure to be crawling with Nifs.”

“She’ll only make an appearance for a couple of minutes. It’s not like she’ll be handing the Ring over or anything. She told me that she’d search you out; don’t try to go looking for her and attract attention.”

Noct closed his eyes and sighed. This was better than anything he could hope for, given the situation. Not only was she safe, she was free, for now. He never dreamed that he’d get to see her even publicly before the rite began. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“It was my pleasure, Noct, really. You guys deserve so much more than what fate has dealt you,” she said. Yeah, whether he and Luna would’ve gotten together if it weren’t for this stupid-ass prophecy, they both deserved better than what they’d had to put up with their whole lives, especially Luna.

“There’s still the matter of this negotiation this afternoon,” Ignis said, leaning back into the desk chair. “While my research gave us a start in her possible motivations, I’m hoping you were able to dig deeper into her more personal ambitions.”

“Yes, I believe I can expand on your research,” she said. Her eyes caught Noct’s.

“She respected the hell out of your father, so the more you’re able to channel him while you speak, the more cooperative she’ll be. I get the impression she and Weskham are better friends than they let on, too.

“She knows Accordo has no future with the Empire controlling things, so chances are good she’ll hand Lunafreya over to you and allow you to go through with the rite, but knowing how protective she is of her people, she’ll probably want something in return on their behalf. I’d take her request very, very seriously if you want her cooperation.”

“How the blazes did you manage to learn all that in four hours in a house you didn’t even have clearance to be in?” Ignis asked in disbelief.

She gave him a cheeky grin. “The domestic approach—no one’s gonna question a new maid, and the servants know _everything._ Just imagine how much dirt you could dish on Noct if you guys had loose tongues.”

Gladio snorted and said, “Plenty,” as Prompto snickered in agreement.

“Yeah, like maybe how awesome I am,” Noct retorted, pushing Prompto off the arm of his chair and laughing.

Gladio rolled his eyes. “Give me a break.”

“And I, as well,” Ignis replied smoothly before turning to Laura. “Forgive me, but those sources hardly sound more reliable than gossip sites.”

“Much more reliable than that!” she said indignantly, raising her chin. “But if you must know, spent an hour cleaning the Secretary’s office as well. Is that direct enough a source for ya?”

“Well . . . yes, I suppose it rather is.”

“So, whaddya say, Specs? We got enough research, I think. Let’s go explore the rest of the city,” Noct said.

“Yes,” Iggy replied with a sharp nod. “We can head straight to the estate when the hour of our appointment draws near.”

***

“Seems kinda weird she’d request four people to help with evacuations when she knows there’re only four of us. Who else are you gonna choose?” Prompto asked as they were bowed out of the Secretary’s grand entrance later that evening.

Noct took a moment to turn back, looking up at the dozens of windows looming over them. Was Luna in one of those rooms looking down at them as they left? He couldn’t see anyone, so he turned, kicking up the white gravel as he dragged his feet past the guarded gate and back onto the street. With some luck, he’d get to see her up close tomorrow night.

Noct shrugged. “Probably her way of saying you should prioritize this over me, I guess.”

He still couldn’t really understand why she was allowing the possible destruction of her entire city so they could awaken Leviathan, but hey, if she was cooperating and taking care of Luna, they weren’t really in a position to question her or the demands she was making on them.

“I don’t care for it. While the citizens’ safety is our highest priority, there should be at least one of us at the altar with you,” Ignis said. “Both you and Lady Lunafreya will be the focus of this entire ordeal, and you need someone to watch your backs, particularly if Lord Ravus and the Chancellor decide to meet you at the altar.”

“I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself and Luna. I have Titan and Ramuh on my side if anything goes wrong. And it’s not like Ravus is gonna hurt his sister.”

“At least Laura convinced her to hold the speech the day before so the entire city isn’t just standing around the center before the rite begins,” Gladio said, nodding to her. “That was a good call. Can’t believe she was gonna do that.”

“Well, she did mention that Accordo doesn’t have much of a military with tactical experience,” Iggy said as they passed through a covered bridge, their footsteps echoing through the tunnel until they emerged out into the crowded street. “That they would create such a foolhardy plan speaks to that.”

They turned a corner, and Noct pulled out his map, tired of thinking about the covenant. He’d feel better about it when it was over, and maybe Luna could join them for the rest of their trip. True, she wouldn’t be safe where they were headed, but they could keep each other safer together than apart.

“So where are these hunts?” he asked. “If we start now and work all night, we can get them all knocked out and take a break until the rite.”

“It wouldn’t be terribly inconvenient to take care of them over two days if we need to,” Ignis said. “Let us take them one at a time and see how things go, shall we?”

But with the five of them working as a team, they were able to knock out most of the hunts in a little over six hours. The haunted painting was one of the stranger ones they’d done, but while Laura muttered something about Hindu religions, Prompto was the one gushing over the photos he had taken for Vyv when they’d finished, despite being terrified the entire time they were battling the naked woman. “If we use Umbra, we’ll have to go show these to him! I can’t wait to see what he thinks!”

“Yeah, maybe, Prom. So the last two hunts are actually in the same location—three alvs and two salpinxes. They should be just around the corner here.” Noct said.

As they drew near, he signaled for them to line up against the wall as he pressed his back into the masonry and slowly peeked around the corner. The moonlit courtyard was surrounded on all sides by the high walls of the buildings, which were decorated with the paned windows and flower boxes he’d seen everywhere in the city. In the center of the square, a raised bed of flowers grew around a multi-tiered fountain, its splashing water glowing silver in the light from above as it dripped merrily down to the lower levels, filling the courtyard with the cheery echoes of trickling splashes.

Noct had never seen daemons in their ‘natural habitat—’ what they did when there were no humans around to attack. They usually popped up out of the ground when they arrived, so it was weird to see the five of them dancing happily around the edges of the square, swiping vicious claws at each other in what looked like play. They’d almost be kinda cute if they weren’t also deadly. This particular group had been responsible for more than thirty disappearances lately, so no matter how peaceful they were in that moment, the group had a responsibility to the city to take them out.

“Yep,” he whispered back to the others. “They’re there.” He summoned his sword, crouching forward and preparing to leap into the open square, but he felt a hand land on his shoulder before he could move.

“Wait,” Laura whispered, and as he turned to look back to see what the problem was, she looked up at Ignis behind her.

Iggy’s eyes went wide. “Now?” he asked.

“There is no better time. We’ll be here to back you up if anything goes wrong. There are five of them, so it’s the perfect opportunity to experiment.”

“You guys wanna fill us in here?” Noct growled impatiently. They were all standing around the corner from five daemons, and this was no time for Laura and Iggy to be doing their cryptic couple thing.   

Iggy stared at Laura for a moment, his eyes growing hard and serious before nodding and looking over at Noct. “With your permission, Highness, I should like to attempt this one on my own.”

Noct couldn’t come up with any words to reply that wasn’t an immediate ‘Are you nuts?!,’ so he stood still, waiting on the off-chance this was just him trying out some new form of humor.

It was Gladio who reacted first, and in pretty much the same way Noct wanted to. “Iggy, have you lost your fucking mind?” he growled, trying his best to yell at Iggy in a soft voice so he wouldn’t be overheard by the daemons. “I’m not even confident I could take all of ‘em without at least one of you for backup.”

“You’re aware that I’ve been receiving private instruction for weeks now, are you not?” Ignis asked, exasperation lacing his tone.

Prompto blinked in surprise. “Uh . . . no actually. I mean, we noticed you were improving—taking less potions and stuff. Chalked it up to all the experience we were getting in the field.”

“So what did you think Laura and I were doing every morning?” he asked.

The three of them were silent for a second before Gladio responded with, “Fucking in the woods, Ig,” and both Noct and Prompto let out quiet snorts of laughter.

Had they all really been wrong about the two of them this entire time? It seemed like they always were.  But that meant all those times they’d come back talking dirty to each other hadn’t really been dirty after all, and _that_ part, at least, made more sense. Noct didn’t figure Iggy for any kind of public display, and he was shocked the first couple of times they’d come back from their morning sessions casually talking about thrust techniques and lickings.

“Oh my gods,” Laura said, shaking her head with a smile as Iggy suddenly seemed to need to lower his head and spread his hand wide over his glasses to adjust them. “Listen, I think he’ll do fine, and if he doesn’t, we can jump in.”

She turned to Iggy then, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking up at him. “But I’m confident that even if your most recently acquired skills don’t work out, you’ll still be able to dance with them.” 

That was a weird way of putting it, but Noct had heard her say that to Ignis before. Of course, he’d died right after that, so her suggestion that he dance wasn’t exactly encouraging.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Noct asked, and Iggy nodded, his face still hard and resolved. “All right, I guess.”

As he moved to take Noct’s place at the corner, he turned back to Noct, his expression transforming into a mischievous smirk. “Well, well, let us begin, shall we?” Without another word, he jumped out from behind the wall and sprinted into the square, summoning the plunderers Cid had upgraded before they’d left Caem as he came to a halt. The daemons, hearing his echoing footsteps and following his path toward the fountain with their glowing yellow eyes, turned on him and began creeping toward him in slow, predatory steps.

“Guy’s lost his mind. What the fuck did you do to him?” Gladio growled at Laura.

“Shut up and watch,” Laura snapped before darting to the other side of the entrance so she could get a better view.

“Oooh, I don’t like this,” Prompto said nervously, summoning his pistol.

Laura nodded at Prompto, but said, “Just remember, don’t step in until he needs us. Neither of us will be particularly happy if you do.”

Rather than argue with her, Noct turned back to keep an eye on Iggy as the other two crowded up behind him to watch. Iggy was bent over near the middle of the square, his daggers held out perpendicular to his body, forward and to the left. His eyes were nearly closed as he breathed slowly, making it look more like he was meditating than standing in the middle of a battlefield.

The first alv leapt at his back, and it took everything Noct had not to shout a warning as Laura glared at him and said, “Don’t.”

Just as the daemon was about to land on Iggy’s back, its claws curled and teeth bared, he spun to the side and struck, ducking and thrusting a dagger up into its ribs. He immediately swiped his other blade out to his left, catching the arm of one of the salpinxes. As soon as the alv had landed from the first blow, he stood to his full height, spinning his daggers in both hands before whirling and holding the blades out at an angle to catch the second-closest salpinx and alv.

Iggy continued like this for another minute or two, flitting and flipping and parrying and well . . . _dancing_ with them. He seemed to flit almost faster than Noct’s eyes could track, moving in opposition to every enemy seemingly before they actually attacked. Noct had seen Laura move like this before, but he’d come to expect it as just a characteristic of how her people fought. Seeing his oldest friend move so swiftly and gracefully like this . . . he almost looked . . . not human, and for the second time since they’d left Insomnia, Noct wondered if he knew this man at all.

“Holy shit, Iggy,” Gladio said under his breath.

Iggy glanced up briefly in their direction and crossed his daggers in front of himself, sliding them apart swiftly, edge on edge until sparks flew from the metal, and he flicked his wrists, engulfing everything from his palms to the tips of his blades in a bright orange blaze.

“Wait. How’d he do that?” Prompto asked, but Gladio shushed him.

Noct had seen Iggy demonstrate his new sagefire technique before they’d left Caem, but this was different; it wasn’t a short burst that ended in an explosion when it made contact. This flame was sustained, held steady from Iggy’s palms like a real Glaive. Noct had always known Iggy was pretty good at magic, but he was surprised to learn that Iggy’d had real Glaive potential. How many other opportunities had he missed out on back in Insomnia because he’d been too busy? Why had it taken Laura, a stranger to the four of them only two months ago, to see that potential in him?

They watched in silent awe as Ignis dipped to elude the alvs, who were all intent on attacking him at once. Though he sent a fiery slash in their direction and a shower of sparks, he didn’t attack outright, instead choosing to concentrate on the two salpinxes, who were beginning to back away from what they knew was their weakest element. Ignis lunged forward, leaping into the air with his blades held high above his head, his body stretching and bowing back, before burying both daggers into the chest of the first salpinx and killing it in a flare of orange sparks that lit his face from below. Noct saw that his teeth were bared, his eyes blazing in concentration as the daemon melted into a pool of miasma and disappeared into the ground.

Somersaulting to his feet, he flicked his wrists, and the two daggers seemed to stretch and lengthen as clear, cold ice extended from the tips of the blades. He tossed his left dagger in the air, flipping it before leaning to the side and flicking the top of his boot nimbly against the hilt, sending the icicle spinning toward the back of the retreating salpinx right as the three alvs went in for another attack from behind. He spun again, swiping his remaining dagger across all three, but still choosing not to make contact. Holding his empty hand out casually behind him, he summoned the other dagger from the crystalized body of the salpinx and brandished both blades at the remaining alvs.

He seemed to toy with the alvs for a minute or so, sweeping his ice daggers across their ribs and arms several times as he flitted back and forth across the square, ducking, spinning, and flipping. With each strike, he left sparkling fractals of ice over the stone walls and floors, and even as the patterns of crystal surged around him, coating his jacket and face in glittering white, Iggy didn’t seem affected by the cold. Noct couldn’t figure out what his game was with the alvs, but it was breathtaking to watch. He’d seen a hell of a lot of bladework in his life, since he was a little kid, but nothing like this before.

“Why’s he screwing with those alvs?” Gladio asked.

“He’s weakening them,” Laura explained. “The lightning is the hardest element for him, at least it was when he learned it a couple of days ago. It can be disorienting to wield, and I didn’t want him using it when they were at full strength.”

“You mean he just learned all this this recently?” Prompto asked.

“Some of it, yes—the elemental part. We’ve been working on the rest for some time now—since the first night in Lestallum.”

“You mean you really _were_ sparring in that getup?!” Gladio asked in disbelief.

A crackling sizzle filled the air, and they all turned back in time to see the ice on Ignis’s daggers melt and shorten to streaks of flickering light. It was then that Iggy began attacking the alvs in earnest, burying the blades between their ribs, shoulders, and across their necks in swift, violent stabs. With each strike he landed, forks of lightning struck the ground, licking their way up through the enemy’s body, dancing up Iggy’s blades, and into his fingertips. But at that point, it wasn’t the dancing or the lightning that had stunned the group into silence. It was the way he was moving—almost as though he were teleporting around the square—almost as fast as Laura. He’d slash a blade across the throat of one alv, and by the time the lightning bolt had disappeared, Iggy would have already backflipped or darted his way to the other side of the square, jumping on another with a vicious jab of his daggers.

He took out two of the alvs like this, and it was at this point that Noct felt he could finally relax. Even if something happened to this new Specs, the old one he knew could take out a single, half-dead alv. Iggy crossed his daggers and flicked his wrists again, turning the lightning into fire and lunging forward. He sliced one blade across the daemon’s neck and forced the other deep in its chest, and as it landed on the stone beneath his blade at his feet, it melted away.

The courtyard, which had been echoing for the last twenty minutes or so with the sound of Iggy’s boots clacking on the stone as he moved and the thud of metal and flesh, grew absolutely silent and still. Iggy remained as he was for a moment, crouched in the middle of the deserted square, his head bowed and eyes closed as he breathed deeply, the tip of one of his daggers still touching the stone, the other still in the hand of his outstretched arm.

Slowly, he lowered his arm to rest the blade of his other dagger on the stone with the first as he sighed peacefully, his body expanding and contracting with the breath. As he dismissed them in a shower of phosphorescent petals, the tips of the blades brushed against the paving stones, creating an almost bell-like tone that rang out against the high stone walls in victory.

“Ifrit’s fiery asshole,” Gladio muttered.

“Yeah,” Noct agreed.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” Prompto said, putting his camera away. “He’s like, totally OP now.”

Laura threw herself around the corner and ran to him as Iggy stood, smiling triumphantly in her direction as he flicked his wrists arrogantly in the air.

“I am so very proud of you, you cocky bastard,” she called out to him before slamming into his body, pressing her face tightly into his neck. To Noct’s surprise, Iggy wrapped his arms tightly around her back, pulling her close and closing his eyes in exhaustion as he leaned into the top of her head.

“You okay there, Ig?” Gladio asked as they approached, and Laura stepped away to look up at him.

“Yes, I’m quite all right,” he said on a sigh, but he sounded tired to Noct.

Iggy’s eyes landed on him and seemed to grow concerned, as though he’d done something _wrong_ , of all things.

“Highness?”

“That was . . . amazing, Specs,” Noct said quietly, and the relief that spread over Iggy’s face was instantaneous. Did he really think Noct would be _angry_ about this? “So . . . yeah,” he continued, slapping him on the back with a smile. “We should probably go back to the hotel and chat, I guess.”

Iggy nodded, a smirk growing across his weary face. “A very intricate and well thought out plan, Noct. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize his spelldaggers are what gives Ignis the ability to fight with the elements, but since there was so much evidence of him being magically special, he is now magically more special.
> 
> Also: Spot the Sherlock reference!


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links aren't an exact match for what I describe, but having a general idea is fun too, so there they are.

“Fuck,” Gladio groaned, holding a hand to his aching head. “Shouldn’t’ve done that, specially after staying out so damn late.” As he thunked his forehead down onto the café table in front of him, he could hear Noct’s and Prompto’s groans of agreement thundering through his pulsing skull. Felt like a fucking jabberwock was stomping around in there still.

“I did warn you all you would wind up regretting drinking an entire bottle each,” Iggy pointed out.

Gladio looked up in time to see Noct roll his eyes. “Yeah, but what you didn’t tell us was that you’d have us up at noon.”

But they’d all been eager to sit back in the parlor of their suite and celebrate Iggy’s transformation from the overthinking strategist to a damn mage-assassin on the battlefield. Seemed like Laura and Iggy were the only ones that held back in celebrating, even though Gladio knew Iggy could easily drink like a fucking fish and still function the next day—but they staunchly stuck to a single glass of wine as they told the story of Iggy combining that brain that had spent years pissing them all off, some kinda super intuition, and a fuckload of hard work to accomplish all he had.

Gladio hadn’t been really surprised when Iggy had revealed his sagefire the other day; it was only natural for Crownsguard to secretly work on techniques to spring on allies and opponents alike—just like Gladio had sprung his own impulse technique on them all back in Costlemark. But this was different—a whole new style of combat. Gladio had been relieved to see Iggy taking fewer potions on the field lately; it increased his chances for surviving everything ahead of them. But they’d always been so busy with keeping their own skins intact that it’d come as a real shock to see just how _much_ he’d improved. Could Gladio even take him now? The answer would’ve been obvious just a few weeks ago, but now he wasn’t sure.

“Well this should help!” Laura sang cheerfully, and Gladio wondered if it would be possible to catch her by surprise and shut that mouth of hers before she killed him with that ice pick of a voice.

She set down four tea cups and a large teapot in the center of the table. “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot,” she said with a smirk. “Kiwa let me serve my own leaf this afternoon, and she’s got pancakes coming up for all of us. You guys are gonna need some carbs to soak up all that alcohol.”

“Thank Six,” Prompto sighed as she poured him and Noct a cup of tea. “I thought for sure they wouldn’t serve us breakfast this late. What time did you guys get up, anyway?”

“We slept in till nine, but we had things to do.”

“Like what?” Gladio asked as he collected the menus from everyone and handed them to a passing waiter.

Laura paused with the teapot hovering over his cup, just short of pouring it. “Fucking in the woods, babe,” she answered before pouring his cup and reaching under the table to secretly summon one of Iggy’s bottled coffees.

“Thank you,” Iggy said softly, cupping the bottle with both hands before opening it and taking a sip. “I’d comment on your use of such language in public, but you’d likely only shout it out more loudly in response.”

“You know I would,” she grinned.

“Is that the trick to getting him off my back?” Noct asked hopefully.

“Mercy isn’t on the menu for _you_ , I’m afraid,” Iggy shot back. “I have enough on my plate with His Highness as it is.”

It seemed all three of them had been wrong about those two; what little time they’d spent alone these past weeks had been spent working their asses off instead of enjoying each other. Gladio should’ve known, really, given the couple involved, but he kinda hoped that the one time he’d covered for them wasn’t so they could lock themselves in a camper, look up pastry recipes, and cook them dinner. That was to say nothing of them beating the crap out of each other every morning. Gladio knew the kind of work it took to become that good, that fast, and it couldn’t’ve been easy on either of them—especially Iggy. He knew damn well from experience how tough it was sparring with Laura and couldn’t imagine how the guy could even move after working with her for so long every day like that.

But all that shit was gonna change tonight. He’d made sure Noct had reserved the room, and they planned to spring it on Iggy today before the masquerade as a surprise. They were in love, gods damnit—everyone knew it now—and it was high time they started enjoying it before they got closer to the Empire and shit started hitting the fan.

Noct had even been considerate enough to give Gladio the day off that day. He’d been considering looking for a place to find a good beer and a good flirt—until he’d woken up this morning. He might’ve been rethinking the beer part now, but he could still start the day at the Arena with Noct and finish elsewhere.

As the waitress—Kiwa?—set a steaming stack of pancakes down in front of him, Gladio thanked her profusely and dove for the syrup first, eager to get some before Noct got a hold of it and dumped the entire pitcher on that shit. That sweet, bready steam rose up in his face, combining with the fresh citrusy scent of the tea and clearing his head a little. Gladio tried to ignore the conversation from the table of girls next to him and concentrate on the hangover cure in front of him, but their voices seemed to grate on his aching nerves this morning.

“I went into Madame’s Masques, but they didn’t have anything I liked.”

“Ugh, that stuff’s for tourists anyway.”

“Well I don’t know! It’s my first time in the capital. Daddy hates coming here—only came because the First Secretary invited him. And he wants me to _find_ someone of _status_ while I’m there—ugh.”

“Yes, but now the ball is tonight, you’ve got no mask, I still need to find a piece for my hair, and you’re being picky!”

“Well what’s your excuse then? You’re the one who lives here! You could’ve gotten something for your hair ages ago!”

Laura waited for their waiter to leave the bill at the table before leaning over the aisle between them. “You know, there’s a custom shop in the Deutatuo District that does lovely pieces of all sorts. Best kept secret in Altissia.”

“I don’t think so,” a blonde girl with grey eyes replied when Gladio looked over. “That’s a residential district.”

“Marco works out of his home,” Laura said. “He did the masks for a lot of high profile clients—just dropped off Camelia Claustra’s mask at her estate yesterday. He mentioned he had some custom orders people didn’t pick up and some extra pieces; you should go check him out.”

“Ohmigods, are you going, too? We could go together,” the brunette sitting across from the blonde said, her hand flapping frantically up and down. Her breathless excitement kinda reminded Gladio a little of Prompto as she fidgeted at Laura with wide brown eyes.

“I have a mask already,” Laura said with a jovial smile. “But I could take you there real quick. I have to get back to the hotel soon and start getting ready. It’s not as though I’m going to get much help from _these_ guys,” she said, pointing a thumb in their direction and rolling her eyes.

“Seriously?” Noct said under his breath. “We’ve got like, seven hours until the thing starts.”

“Girls,” Prompto said, nodding sagely as though that explained everything.

Laura straightened and glared at Noct and Prompto. “When _your_ hair is three feet long and needs washing, drying, and curling, not to mention styling, then we’ll talk.”

Without breaking eye contact with his bottle of coffee, Iggy tilted his head in Laura’s direction, his eyebrows twitching into a slight furrow as his lips pulled down in a frown. Gladio had seen him pull a thousand of these micro expressions a day ever since he’d known him—they were the only kind he’d ever made until leaving Insomnia, and even mostly until Caem—but now that he knew what to look out for, his eyes shifted to Laura’s face. Her eyes turned soft and sweet, her lips curling up just a little as she minutely shook her head—not enough for anyone who didn’t know what was _really_ going on to notice it as such. In response, Iggy’s chin dipped down, maybe a centimeter or so.

Gladio wondered what kind of conversation they were having in there, and how they decided what to say out loud and what to say in their heads. It was kinda weird thinking they pretty much only ever talked out loud for the rest of the group’s benefit, but they seemed to do it surprisingly often.

The brunette leaned over the aisle, placing the tips of her fingers lightly on their table. “I have a plan!” she breathed. “You can go to your hotel and get your costume, then meet us at Marie’s Macarons just down the street? You can take us to this mask place, and then we can all head back to Sydney’s manor to get ready together!”

“And then maybe you could tell us if any of your friends here are going stag,” the blonde suggested, giving Gladio the side-eye, and Gladio rewarded her with his signature panty-dropping smile and a wink but didn’t take it any further than that. If Noct was meeting Luna tonight, he wasn’t gonna have much time for distractions, much as he wished otherwise. He hadn’t had a good lay since the last time they’d passed through Lestallum.

Prompto leaned forward and raised his hand tentatively, but Laura had already turned to Noct and was asking, “Did you have anything planned for today?”

“Thought we might do some fishing or something. Go ahead if you want.”

“Great!” the brunette said. “That’s Sydney, by the way,” she said pointing at the blonde as they both stood. “I’m Sofia.”

Laura gave them her own signature wide smile with sparkling eyes. “Laura.”

“So we have a few errands to run first,” Sofia said as Sydney headed up front to pay the bill. “Meet us at Marie’s in an hour?”

“Yeah,” she said with a wave before Sofia turned and headed to the front of the café. After adding a little syrup to each layer of her enormous stack of pancakes—where the hell was she planning to put all that food, anyway?—she looked over at Iggy. “I suppose I’d better go right after breakfast if I’m going to be making those changes to your tux and mask. I’ll leave your mask and the invitations in a box on the table, yeah?”

“If it’s truly assistance you need in getting ready, I would be more than happy to help,” Iggy said, and Gladio had to chuckle a little. Guy might’ve been as smart as whip, but he could be kinda dense sometimes, even with a girlfriend, apparently.

“You don’t understand,” Laura said, her expression growing almost wicked. Yeah, Gladio sure as fuck knew what Iggy was in for tonight. “Masquerades are all about the reveal.”

“No doubt your choice of theme will be dramatic, as always,” Iggy said amusedly.

“Were we supposed to pick some kinda theme? I just picked out [the first one I liked](https://www.heavencostumes.com.au/media/catalog/product/cache/3eefb03207b57b648a3f7359289ae856/m/-/m-e-sc-07064-elevate-costumes-men-s-red-feather-tribal-mystery-masquerade-mask-close-1000.jpg),” Noct said.

“Yours kinda looked like mine,” Prompto said. “I got it because it reminded me of Sunny. Did yours remind you of Byrrus?”

“Yeah. I liked the red feathers, I guess.”

Gladio snorted a little. “You guys are goin’ as your own chocobos? Buncha nerds, I swear,” he said with a grin.

“Well, what’re _you_ going as?” Noct shot back.

“Sex on legs.”

He’d packed his standard tuxedo, with its emerald waistcoat and black tailcoat with silver trimmings—a combination of House Amicitia and House Caelum colors, but skipped the fancy cape with all its royal medals and frills for obvious reasons. Even though it was gonna suck having to stuff himself like meat into a sausage tube after so many months of not even having to wear a shirt, there was no denying he looked hot in formalwear; he’d had a lifetime of experience perfecting his look. There was no way he could compete with the societal dick measuring contest with the [mask](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/61evy3FlnNL._SL1000_.jpg), since they’d neither the time nor the money to get a custom job done, so he’d gone simple—black, green, and silver scrollwork that covered his eyes and nose and glittered with crystal accents.

“No, but seriously,” Prompto said, his face scrunching into a frown. “Were we supposed to pick a theme?”

“From my research into the practice here in Accordo, it’s more common for the women to arrange their costumes around a theme, matching their dresses to their masks, though the men sometimes do. There should be no issue with whatever you chose,” Ignis said.

“Do you have a theme?” Prompto asked.

Iggy’s lips quirked up into a knowing smile. “I’m going as myself.”

“Well that clears that up,” Gladio said.

“About as well as ‘sex on legs,’ I’d say,” he replied smoothly, and Prompto snorted into his hand.

Gladio turned to Laura, who’d been silently inhaling her stack of pancakes before she had to get going. “All right, Princess. Let’s have it. What’s your theme?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to know in case we need to find you,” Noct said. “Will we recognize you?”

“Yeah, probably. My mask doesn’t do much to hide my identity, unlike Ignis’s. I figure anyone that’s going to recognize me can do so with or without a mask. Just look for the Queen of the Night Sky. Ignis should have no trouble finding me.”

“Just follow the sounds of a ruckus,” Iggy muttered under his breath.

Not for the first time, Gladio wondered what it would be like to use telepathy—to be able to find someone in a crowded estate ballroom with nothing but . . . what? Instinct? He’d been watching the two of them carefully since he realized what they were capable of, and it seemed they were in near constant contact. He was willing to bet that even as they separated today, Gladio would still see signs of Iggy talking to her. He wondered what kind of effect it would have on a person to have an entirely private world to share like that.

His thoughts turned dark when he thought about when this was all over. Would she go and leave him behind? Stay here with them? Take him with her? What if one of them got killed? What about Iggy being a mortal? He was probably thinking too far ahead; they might not even be together anymore by the time those events rolled around. But given how hard they’d appeared to have fallen for each other, he tended to doubt that.

“Actually, now that I think of it, that’s kind of funny,” Laura said, tilting her head. “I originally chose that theme because . . . well, reasons, but it’s actually the meaning of Noct’s name.”

“What?” Noct asked, turning to focus completely on her.

“I guess you weren’t there for that conversation. Your name has meaning in an old Earth language: ‘sky of the night’s light’ . . . or near enough. Guess it would’ve been too much to ask for your lot to get the declensions correct; pretty decent just to get it that close, really.”

“Wait, does my name have a meaning too?” Prompto asked hopefully, leaning forward and pointing his fork at her.

She grimaced a little. “Yours is a bit of a sloppy translation. Going with ‘quicksilver’ for you.”

“Badass. I mean, I dunno what it means or anything, but it _sounds_ badass.”

“Go on then, Princess. Whaddya got for me?” Gladio asked.

“You’re a fun one, too. Loosely translated? ‘Little Sword Friend,’ but interestingly, a gladiolus is also a type of sword lily, a flower of the iris family.”

Gladio wasn’t really that impressed with the fact that ‘little’ was in his name, but whatever—not like he didn’t know himself he was a huge bastard. The sword friend thing was a little unnerving, given what he’d been destined to become, and he wasn’t sure what to think of it. The flower thing was interesting though—like he had a connection to his sister. He definitely _was_ a member of the Iris family, and damn proud of it.

“Dude,” Prompto giggled. “Not only do you have a little sword, you’re also a flower!”

“I’m gonna kick your ass for the sword comment,” Gladio growled. “But I can dig the flower thing. Flowers are pretty fucking awesome. Maybe I’ll even put one on your grave when I’m done kicking your ass.”

The three of them looked to Iggy, who had cut a small square of his pancake and was dipping it carefully into a ramekin of syrup. They waited for him to ask for the meaning of his name, but Gladio bet he already knew, and even if he didn’t, he could find out without having to say a word. It wasn’t like Iggy to ever turn down knowing something, so it had to be one or the other.

Noct had picked up his mug to take a sip of his tea but paused when Iggy didn’t ask. “Well? What’s Iggy’s name?”

“Sex on legs, apparently,” Iggy answered casually—but low enough not to be overheard by anyone beyond the table—before taking a sip of his coffee. Noct had to spit his tea back into his cup while Prompto threw his head back laughing, slapping his leg.

“Damn straight,” Laura agreed.

“Ha! Now _that’s_ a good one, Ig,” Gladio laughed.

Even with this mage-master, laid-back, joyful Iggy, Gladio didn’t get him sometimes—the way he’d get onto Noct for using ‘improper language’ in public but hardly ever the rest of them, especially Gladio. He came out with comments like just now, but always blushed or got embarrassed when Gladio and Laura did their flirting thing. He hoped that didn’t mean she and Gladio were making him _really_ uncomfortable every time they did their thing, but he doubted Laura would’ve let it continue if it did. Flirting with her was fun as hell, but it wasn’t like either of them meant anything by it. Laura and Iggy belonged to each other, like some kinda cheesy ass romance novel, but gods damn was it beautiful.

“Well,” Laura said before draining the last of her tea, “better get going. I’ll see you all there!”

“We’ll be in disguise though,” Prompto pointed out, raising a finger at her.

She laughed a little, saying, “Please, you think a mask will hide who you are from me? I find the entire disguise concept rather amusing. Still, it’s fun to see everyone dressed up. Anyway, see you guys tonight!”

***

They took the gondola out to the marina, where Noct pulled out his fishing pole and the rest of them settled in for the long wait. Gladio hated days like these. Prompto could always find some entertainment snapping pictures for a half an hour or so, but then it suddenly became Gladio and Iggy’s job to keep the kid still and quiet so he wouldn’t scare the fish away. Iggy, of course, had the patience of a saint while he stood beside the Prince, praising him for every perceived victory over the slippery little fuckers. Gladio had little interest in playing admiring audience all day, and while he was all for spending quiet time in his own head, the sheer length of time Noct was capable of fishing was long enough for anyone to find a stray bit of fucked-upedness rolling around in the brain. Occasionally, he had to drop to the ground to do some one-armed pushups just to work off the boredom.

“So you excited about seeing Luna tonight?” Gladio pressed, hoping to irritate him just a little. Noct had always been way too easy to wind up when it came to her.

“Yeah,” Noct said quietly. “It’s been so long.”

That wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting; maybe getting more insight into what Lunafreya had been going through on his behalf had made him start thinking more about his responsibilities for once.

“Are we gonna fish alllllllll day?” Prompto whined.

Noct shook his head. “Maybe another half hour? Then we’re gonna take Ig to the Arena since he’s not gonna get to go tomorrow.”

“I beg your pardon?” Iggy asked politely. “Why will I not be accompanying you to the Arena tomorrow?”

Noct shifted a bit and grimaced. “Uh, yeah. So . . . after the masquerade tonight, we got you your own room. We’re going to the Arena tomorrow, so you and Laura should . . . you know, do whatever for the day.”

Iggy’s eyebrows twitched up in surprise. “I—” he swallowed, bowing his head, and his reaction to the shock of someone doing something nice for him kinda broke Gladio’s heart a little. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t’ve if he’d _let_ them from time to time.  

“Thank you,” Iggy said, his voice strong and steady again. “I am in your debt, Highness.”

“No way, Specs,” Noct said, turning to him. “We would’ve starved or driven off a cliff by now if it wasn’t for you. You had this coming a long time.”

“Yeah, not to mention all the advice you give us for killing all those monsters,” Prompto pointed out.

“And I don’t wanna hear any stories about you guys learning crazy new combat skills or cooking enough food for an army or whatever you guys are always working on,” Gladio said, clapping a hand on Ignis’s shoulder. “Take a day and relax, damn it. Sleep in. Get laid. Eat way too much food and nap on a gondola.”

Taking a deep breath and staring at the ground in front of him, he said quietly, “Thank you. And I would like you all to know, no matter what happens on this mad journey of ours, that it has been my greatest pleasure to call you all my friends and comrades.”

“Aww, come on, Igs,” Prompto said, sniffling a little. “Not like anything’s gonna happen. We happen to kick some major ass!”

“Yeah, you bet we do,” Gladio said, but he narrowed his eyes a little at Iggy’s bleak expression.

Iggy didn’t seem to brighten up until they arrived at the Arena Galviano, where Gladio was surprised to find that not only did Iggy thoroughly enjoy the matches, he also seemed to be really into offering Noct advice on betting. As much as he got onto them all about spending money, Gladio would’ve thought he’d’ve hated this, but then again, Gladio had seen some of his civvies, and no way was that shit cheap. The guy was a mess of contradictions.

“Wouldn’t’ve pegged you as a gambler,” Gladio noted after a couple of hours.

Iggy leaned in to tell Noct to place the full bet on the coeurl before inclining his head in Gladio’s direction, sniffing a little. “Merely a matter of statistics—a calculated risk, and in this case, hardly much of one, as everyone knows to _always_ place gil on the coeurl.”

A calculated risk—Iggy was right about that part. They’d all personally hunted pretty much all these animals out in the wild, so they all had an advantage over the city folk they were betting against. So far, Gladio and Iggy had only disagreed a couple of times on which team to place the bet on, and it’d been fifty-fifty so far on who’d been right. Noct wasn’t so bad at placing bets, but Prompto seemed to be the worst—always guessing based on team size.

Gladio’s hand twitched a little, the blood seeming to race that little bit faster in his veins as their coeurl sat back on its haunches, charging for a deadly attack against one of the wyverns as it took to the air, diving and snapping its vicious jaws at the wildcat’s back. He wondered if they ever put people in the arena to fight; Gladio certainly wouldn’t’ve minded giving it a shot. He’d bet the four of them together could easily take on any matchup.

“Yeah, but how’d you know to put the money on those spiracorns?” Prompto asked. “Never woulda done that with two against four like that.”

“Really,” Iggy huffed. “One must also take into account the condition of the animals. Those havocfangs looked to be on their last legs.”

Noct shook his head. “Gotta say, you surprise me sometimes, Specs.”

“Yeah, like, how would Laura feel about you putting money on animals fighting to the death like this?” Prompto asked. “Bet she’d hate that.”

“She does despise the concept,” Iggy admitted, his eyes glued to the match in front of him as the coeurl zapped the wyvern out of the sky, his fists tightening in excitement. “But we recognize and respect each other’s differences.”

“Uh huh, I totally thought she’d turn you vegetarian. You’re already halfway there,” Noct said. “Yes!” Noct jumped into the air as the last of the voretooths fell to the coeurl, reaching out to give Gladio an enthusiastic high five.

“It would never happen,” Iggy said when he’d finished clapping. “I understand her aversion to eating flesh, but I happen to enjoy a good steak, thank you. I don’t imagine it would even occur to her to ask me to refrain, and well done on her for that.”  

“So what does she do that you hate, then?” Gladio asked, a little surprised he was offering up so much information so freely. Had it always simply been a matter of asking him? Now that he looked back, it seemed like none of them really ever _asked_ Iggy’s opinions or thoughts on anything but business.

Iggy tilted his head in thought for a moment before smiling tenderly. “Nothing I despise, per se, but I’m not a particularly avid fan of her inclination to get caught in the rain, though she has shown me that even a rainstorm has its wonders.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Gladio said, remembering the look on her face when they’d been on the boat and how she’d transformed the scene around them.

“Think we should start heading back?” Prompto asked as the handlers were clearing the arena for the next match.

“Yeah, I guess,” Noct sighed. “Definitely getting that turbocharger for the car tomorrow—that fishing reel too.”

As they headed outside to catch a gondola back to the hotel, Prompto asked, “Hey, think we could get that enforcer too? The power on that thing looked pretty sick!”

“The lance appeared to be a wise choice as well,” Iggy remarked. “Should you do well tomorrow, you may want to get everything.”

As they stepped into the waiting gondola, Gladio slapped Iggy on the back a couple of times. “I gotcha, Ig. I’ll make sure it’s just me and Highness placin’ the bets tomorrow.”

“Hey!” Prompto protested as he leapt from the dock to the boat, making it rock roughly to the side as he landed. “I was right about a couple!”

“I just wish we could get that Magitek generator,” Noct said. “We’d never have to think about gas again.”

“Yeah, but we’d have to spend like, a week straight in there,” Prompto complained. “I mean, it’s fun and all, but damn.”

“I agree,” Iggy said with a nod. “All things considered, I’d rather have the turbocharger, as the cost versus benefit makes it a superior choice.”

“You got a need for speed there, Ig?” Prompto asked.

Iggy smirked before responding, “After Laura made a comment on my _once_ remarking on her speed, I’ve taken to proving I’m not averse to letting the Regalia go on the open road, particularly while you lot are asleep.” His eyes unfocused, and his smirk grew wider. Some comment shared with Laura, maybe?

“Maybe we could use Umbra sometime to go back into the past and get the generator that way,” Noct said.

“Yes, because using the power of the gods for vehicle upgrades isn’t at all frivolous,” Iggy said, shaking his head.

“Hey, you think there’s gonna be any other royals at this party tonight?” Prompto asked.

“Well, I don’t know about royals, but I imagine much of Ravettrician society will be there, as Altissia is without a doubt foremost in holding fashionable societal events,” Iggy said.

“Wow, what if I like . . . meet a princess in disguise or something, and we fall in love? That would be so romantic!”

“Heh, keep dreamin’, kid,” Gladio said.

Tonight was all about checking out the local Nif population before the rite and keeping the focus off Noct and Lunafreya when they met up. No fairytales tonight; business came first.

***

“Look at all the Nifs in this place. Wonder if Lady Lunafreya’s gonna make it,” Gladio said as they walked through the entrance of the grand ballroom.

The place wasn’t really that impressive when compared to the Citadel’s ballrooms, but Gladio didn’t think anyone in the world could’ve competed with Insomnia’s architecture. The long, rectangular hall was lined with carved columns on either side, painted to look some kinda gold metallic color, but the ceiling was clearly supposed to be the focal point of the room, with its painted mural of Leviathan winding her way through Altissia’s many waterways and the chandeliers glinting gold in the low lighting. Glass doors lined one side of the room, opening out to a wide, moonlit balcony that overlooked the main bay and letting the cooler night air waft in to keep the room from getting too stuffy with all the people. And there were a lot of people for the size of the room—three hundred, maybe? Keeping an eye on Noct might be an issue tonight.

“Indeed. I do hope she can attend safely. Though the Empire likely has no aversions to us being here, I highly doubt they would appreciate the King and the Oracle speaking,” Ignis replied.

“Still, glad we split. Don’t wanna draw any more attention to ourselves than necessary.”

They hadn’t been in Altissia long enough yet for real specific rumors about their group to start spreading around, but it was only a matter of time before word of the Prince and his retinue got out. To subvert expectations, Ignis and Gladio had gone ahead to check the place over before sending a text letting Noct and Prompto know they could come on in.

“Is Laura here yet?” Gladio asked, trying to spot her in the crowd as he tugged on his collar, hoping to loosen the damn thing a little.

“Yes, but I don’t see her. It must be part of her subtler magic; I never did solve how she managed to sneak into the throne room in that gown of hers,” he said, straightening to look over the heads of the crowd. “She’s toying with me for reasons I cannot fathom.”

“Aww, come on, Ig,” Gladio said, grinning over at him as they strolled along the perimeter of the room. “Anticipation’s half the fun. She wants you to get frustrated so you’ll go all wild on her later. Sides, I’m sure you’ll find her if her outfit’s anything like that crazy ass mask of yours.”

[Laura’s mask](https://i.imgur.com/4zyU7wG.jpg) covered his entire face—even the lower half was masked by crackled porcelain and painted gold lips, muffling his voice and making it difficult for Gladio to hear him in the crowded room. He definitely fit in with the higher-ranking nobility in this group; Gladio was pretty sure the scrollwork covering his eyes and forehead was actual gold, and the rubies and diamonds lining his eyes were definitely real. The black, red, and orange feathers extending from the top of the mask at all angles reminded Gladio of Iggy’s signature hairstyle in flames—impressive, but he had a feeling those weren’t chocobo feathers.

“Is that some sort of universal paradigm? You sound just like her,” Iggy asked.

“Yeah, maybe it is. Chicks like thinking that they’ve driven you insane enough to act out of character. You want my advice? When you find her, pull her into a corner and attack her. She’ll love it; trust me.”

 Gladio looked over at him when he merely hummed noncommittally. “Is the creep here? Or the scumbag?”

Iggy tilted his head. “She says they aren’t. I’d say it’s safe enough to bring Noct in,” he said, reaching into his black velvet tailcoat pocket for his phone.

Of course, no one could dress up like Ignis-fucking-Scientia. There weren’t a lot of men in the world who could wear as much sparkly shit as he did and still manage to look sharp, but he always pulled it off somehow. Laura had apparently turned the silver-crystal scrollwork on the lapels and high collar of his coat gold to match his mask, and even that silk brocade vest of his seemed to have been re-dyed in shining burgundy.

“You look sharp tonight, man. Let’s split up so we can keep a better eye out, and you can go find your girl.”

“Thank you, Gladio,” he said with a quick nod. “Laura and I are both in your debt, not only for your assistance but also for your discretion. I greatly appreciate it.”

Gladio shoved him off. “Damn, man, don’t gotta thank me for being decent. Go on!”

Since he wasn’t on the pull, there wasn’t much to do for the next hour but idly participate in a few of the group dances as he watched Noct wander around the room like a lost puppy. Seemed no matter how much stealth he’d acquired out in the wilderness, he still stuck out like a sore thumb in these social settings. At this rate, Lunafreya wasn’t ever gonna approach him until he settled. Even Prompto had given up following him around about fifteen minutes ago, which at least made him a little less conspicuous.

He hadn’t seen Iggy or Laura since he’d shooed Iggy off, but judging by the status report texts he kept receiving every ten godsdamn minutes, he either hadn’t found her or was focusing on work tonight.

As he leaned against the back wall, eyes locked on Noct’s halting progress through the room, he felt the vibration of someone leaning heavily next to him and heard Prompto’s familiar dramatic sigh.

“What’s up, big guy?” Prompto asked.

“Just keepin’ an eye on our master of subtlety over there. You havin’ fun?”

Prompto sighed again. “It’s not how I thought it was gonna be. Everyone’s just hanging out with the people they know. Thought the whole point of hiding your identity was so you could meet new people.”

“Welcome to the club, kid,” Gladio said with a chuckle, “and it is a club. Buncha hypocrites, all of ‘em. Trust me, you’re probably better off.”

“I kinda wanted to try dancing at least once in a place like this,” he said longingly as his yellow-feather-lined eyes followed the rainbow of couples gliding over the dance floor. “I thought it’d be all waltzes, too, but they’ve been playing a lot of different stuff.”

There were about a hundred and fifty couples on the floor—men in colorful costumes or dark tuxedos, women in hoopskirts and heavy shining fabrics, and all those glitzy masks. Gladio had to admit that the whirling colors and flashes of jewels in the lighting made for a pretty neat effect—totally different from the required black of the Lucian events, which tended to alienate visiting dignitaries.

“I’ll dance with you, Prompto,” said a soft voice laced with amusement from beside him.

Even if he hadn’t recognized the voice, and even if she hadn’t used Prompto’s name, of course, it couldn’t have been anyone else but Laura. Who else would be able to sneak up on him? Especially dressed like . . . that. She looked like a fucking royal just standing there. Though her gown was a similar style to the others, full skirted and sleeves that flared at the elbows, she’d chosen a lighter fabric that swished as she moved—deep blue and covered in silver-white crystals that danced and shimmered in the indirect lighting. True to her word, her mythril scrollwork mask did little to hide her identity, but the sapphires and diamonds that lined the eyelids of the metal drew attention to her matching eyes.

 _‘Queen of the Night Sky’ indeed_ , Gladio thought to himself as he looked her up and down.

She might’ve been able to blend in with the other dancers had it not been for the fucking royal [crown](http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IJrLbkODUvA/VQ2g2bJqdEI/AAAAAAAAAfw/nvziQvx4mOs/s1600/0629cc807a546fe4743f77932b53a595.jpg) on top of her head and the matching [necklace](http://www.thejewelleryeditor.com/media/images_thumbnails/filer_public_thumbnails/old/47393/Piaget%209.jpg__1536x0_q75_crop-scale_subsampling-2_upscale-false.jpg) made of infinity symbols. What looked like diamond-studded mythril was set deep into her black curls, rising up in about twenty-five points that began with sapphires the size of Gladio’s thumbprint and were topped with more diamonds.

“Whoa! You mean it?” Prompto asked, beginning to jump up and down. “You wanna dance with me?”

“Of course I mean it!” she said with a laugh. “Just give me a minute?”

“Yeah!” he said brightly, taking a few steps to the dance floor—probably to scope out the best spot to take selfies from.

When Laura turned to Gladio, her eyes widened a little as he crossed his arm over his chest and bowed low—because she fucking deserved it. “Good evening, Your Majesty,” he said before straightening. “I take it those are real.”

She touched a manicured hand lightly to her head and nodded. “It was commissioned for my coronation and was always my favorite. I couldn’t bear to part with it.”

“You sure don’t know how to do subtle, do you?”

She lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug. “I figured we might need a distraction tonight, so I dressed the part and have been staying out of sight since I arrived, except to chat up Oscar for a bit.”

“Oscar?”

“The conductor—got him to owe me a favor now,” she said with a smirk. Then she stepped close to him, speaking softly. “As you’ve no doubt noticed, Noct isn’t doing well. He can’t be approached like this. I think I’ve convinced Ignis to help me with a diversion, but you need to make sure to keep an eye on them when everyone else is looking the other way.”

“Oh yeah? Whatcha got in mind?” he asked. Since Iggy’s diversions usually involved blowing something up inside one of the Nif bases, he couldn’t imagine what kind of scenario they’d cooked up for a room full of civs.

Her smile turned downright dangerous as she asked in a low voice, “Have you ever seen him dance?”

“Yeah, hundreds of times,” Gladio said with a shrug, “at the Citadel.”

“Not like this,” she replied, her eyes darting over to a spot in the corner, where Gladio could just make out Iggy’s long silhouette in the shadows. But he’d known Iggy long enough to know exactly what face he was making right now based on his posture alone—that hand on that hip, that tilted head. Ice Cold Scientia. The woman his gaze was directed at seemed to notice his stare and was looking down at herself in confusion.

Much as this wasn’t his business, he really wanted to know. He’d been on the road with Iggy long enough to know that he wasn’t the kinda guy to just stand around and judge people like that.

“Hey, before you guys go do your thing, something I gotta ask you, and feel free not to answer if it’s too private, or whatever.”

“Yes?”

He thrust his chin in Iggy’s direction. “What’s goin’ through his head when he does that? He earned a nickname for that face back home.”

“’Ice Cold Scientia,’ I know,” she said, her own voice growing cold. “Heard some of your cooks . . . not particularly clever.” She grew warmer as she turned her head back in his direction. “He’s a million miles away right now—not even in this room, a thousand things going on up in there.”

When Laura’s eyes met Gladio’s again, they were sparkling just as much as that crown on her head. “It’s beautiful,” she said in awe. “But the poor man suffers from what they call ‘Resting Bitch Face’ on Earth. It’s not his fault.”

“Ha!” Gladio barked, not even needing an explanation, because yeah, that explained everything he’d thought he’d known about Ig. “Yeah, I see it now.”

“Anyway, come on Prom,” she said, lacing her arm through his and leaning into him. “Let’s get you your dance.”

Gladio leaned back into the wall and watched . . . everything—Prompto and Laura doing some kinda spazzy dance to an upbeat pop number they’d piped into the speakers to give the orchestra a break; Iggy and his resting bitch face shifting back and forth a little on his feet, almost like he was nervous; and Noct edging around the dance floor still looking like he’d accidentally wandered in dressed for the occasion and decided to stay.

As the song ended and Laura leaned in to kiss Prompto on the cheek, Gladio started casually strolling closer toward Noct’s position in case Lunafreya led him away from the room and Gladio needed to follow them. The orchestra picked up their instruments again, and whatever favor Laura had called in came in the form of a heavy and humid number that reminded Gladio of Lestallum for some reason.   

He cast a glance at Noct before looking back to find Laura, who was standing demurely in front of a man Gladio barely recognized as Iggy.

Ig had always had textbook form when waltzing back home—perfectly straight and supported from below and graceful and all that other shit the instructors were always screeching about in melodramatic tones. But tonight, he was another man entirely—chest puffed out and head held high in arrogance, possession radiating off him as he stared down the nose of his mask at Laura. The tension seemed to build as the dancers around them, likely thinking they had some mysterious queen or some shit dancing near them, began backing away to watch.

With a swift flick of motion Gladio almost missed, Iggy’s hand snapped out, grasping her wrist and snatching her into a spin that carried her past him, her skirt kicking up around her in a sluicing wall of blue and silver sparkling water as she moved.

Laura turned to face him again, teasing her body into a hypnotizing sway like a naga preparing to strike, and as Iggy stalked toward her, she backed away, the curve of her lips curling up into an impish smile. But he was the one who struck first, grabbing her wrist again and leading her in a circle as they stared each other down, and when Iggy leaned back a little, she snatched her hand away, slapping her other hand to his chest and spreading it wide as she panted up at him like they’d just gone a round. Sliding his fingertips over her cheek and into the half of her hair that hung at her back, he grasped a handful and yanked back hard, exposing her neck as he skimmed his masked nose up the column of her throat. When they straightened, they began to move together.

And it looked like Iggy wasn’t done revealing his secrets on this trip.

Gladio was trying to decide how much money he would pay to see this re-enacted again at some point in time when he didn’t have a job to do, and as his gaze shifted back to Noct, he noticed a woman about Laura’s size standing several feet away, strolling casually along the edge of the outer wall toward where Noct stood gaping at Iggy and Laura in shock. Her sylleblossom-colored dress hung in heavy drapes around her frame, the silk lined with diamond patterns of shining while pearls. The woman’s face, and even her hair, were completely covered by a white porcelain mask trimmed with delicate lace and a white velvet hood. Judging by her carefully casual progress, this had to be Lady Lunafreya and not some random chick with eyes for Noct.

The figure stopped short as the eyes beneath her mask flickered to Gladio, but she seemed to recognize him when he nodded to her. She nodded back in greeting and continued ambling until she reached out to place a white-gloved hand on Noct’s shoulder. When Noct turned around, she slid the hand down to his, grasping it tightly and leading him toward one of the doors that led to the balcony.

That wasn’t good; the quieter, more isolated atmosphere out there would definitely make it easier for them to be overheard.

As nonchalantly as he could, Gladio headed the pair off before they could make it to the door, leaning in toward Lunafreya to murmur, “You’re pretty good at the whole covert ops thing, Your Highness, but if you don’t want this conversation to be overheard, I suggest you stay in here.” He nodded his head toward a corner that, while not deserted, was slightly isolated from the group of ten or so leaning in to each other to gossip about Iggy and Laura. “Over there would be better.”

“I understand. Thank you,” she said with a nod, leading Noct to the corner he’d indicated.

Gladio slowly followed, watching as Iggy and Laura flung each other in tight fast circles around almost the entire dance floor, stepping in and out of each other’s strides, kicking up and over each other’s legs, and both taking turns leading and following each other through fluid whirls so swiftly that Gladio had trouble keeping track of who was leading the charge at any moment.

A lot of people didn’t think Gladio would know jack shit about ballroom dancing, but his mom had started teaching him when he was two years old, as was proper for any Lucian gentleman, and he’d gone to at least four balls every year since he was six years old. He might not have been as good as Iggy at it, but he knew enough to be well aware that _that_ shit, the way they were moving together so gracefully and quickly, was impossible to do spontaneously. Seriously, what the actual fuck did those guys do in their free time? Foraging, cooking, cleaning, fighting, . . . and now dancing? Even if they were talking in their heads, it still didn’t account for Iggy’s reaction time. This shit had to be heavily rehearsed.

As Laura grasped at Iggy’s masked cheek and dragged her fingers down the line of his jaw, Iggy tilted his chin into her hand before grasping at her hips, lifting her in the air, and flinging her in a circle. Ragged breaths, floating spins, light steps, elegant twirls, and that billowing skirt of hers clinging to Iggy’s long legs with each step—they’d all been wrong. She wasn’t Queen of the Night Sky, and he wasn’t Ice Cold; she was water and he was fire. Fire and water were dancing together, and it was just as fucking beautiful as it was deadly.

And damn, why was it so hot?

Gladio turned for a second to check on Noct and Luna before Iggy and Laura commanded his attention again. What could Laura have possibly said to convince this man, who had just the other day been too shy to wear swim trunks in front of the four of them, to basically pre-fuck his girlfriend in front of three hundred people? Maybe that was part of her magic. Or maybe that was just Iggy. The man was obviously deep waters, and no way was anyone ever gonna figure him out.

On the final note, Gladio’s breath caught in his lungs as Iggy slapped a hand against Laura’s throat, dropping to one knee so she landed in a back-bending dip over his outstretched thigh, his face leaning over her heaving chest in a slight bow as the entire ballroom erupted with applause.

Gladio glanced back at Noct again, but he was alone—eyes wide and fingers pressed to his lips. Gladio hoped that meant what he thought it meant. Mission accomplished, and maybe their little Prince was growing into a King—one way or another.

“That did the trick!” Gladio said with a grin as Laura and Iggy approached. “Not gonna lie you guys, that was some of the hottest shit I’ve ever seen.”

Iggy nodded once, staring down at the floor in silence, what little skin that was visible around his eyes bright red.

“Thanks, babe,” Laura said, taking Iggy’s hand. “I think we’re going to draw attention to ourselves for the rest of the night, so we’re gonna head out—unless you need anything.”

“Hell no, you guys go enjoy yourselves. Paid extra to get you a really late checkout, so take advantage of it, if ya know what I mean. Now get the hell outta here.”

She put a hand on his shoulder to pull his face down near hers. “Thank you, Gladio,” she said in a soft voice in his ear before pressing her lips to his cheek below the line of his mask. “You don’t know what this means.”

“Anything for the two of you; you know that,” he said. “Now go on.”

He watched the two of them haul ass out the door, thinking of whether he should grab Noct, find Prompto, and head back to the hotel. Deciding they’d stretched their luck as much as they could’ve for one night, he was about to do just that when he heard a voice behind him.

“Hey, stranger. You here on business or pleasure?”

Gladio grinned. Maybe he could mix a little of both tonight, if he was really, really lucky.

 


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW this chapter.

Once he’d taken her hand to help her step out of the gondola, Ignis dragged her along behind him toward the entrance to the hotel, and his silence, along with the black clouds of a storm brewing in his mind, was beginning to worry her—not that she hadn’t been worried for him all day. That dichotomy between his mind and actions had returned in full force today as he’d joked and teased and opened up to the boys. He’d even kept up the façade with her, pretending he was perfectly all right while his mind was all the while roaring with dread and mourning.

She thought she knew what this was about—Gentiana’s ‘phophecy,’ but as it pertained to his direct future, she couldn’t discuss it with him until he brought it up and told her what he knew. He shouldn’t have even known what little he did; it had only been safe so far because the warning had been vague and given by someone within his own timeline. But while Laura had appreciated Gentiana’s warning, as it had allowed her to fruitlessly monitor the situation as it approached, Ignis was only suffering because he’d been there to hear it.

But something had changed in him at the masquerade as she’d teased him and got him to enjoy himself: his mind had turned dark, desperate, and roiling with an aching hunger and tightening coil that she’d never seen in him. As much as she wished he would just talk to her about what was bothering him, she was all too willing to help him exorcise these particular demons from himself, and then perhaps he would finally feel free enough to open up to her.

To the untrained eye of the receptionist, Ignis was perfectly cool and composed—inquiring after the check-out time in a lilting tone and thanking Tiffany for her time, but Laura could see the tension in his jaw, the way he refused to let go of his grip on her hand, and the tightness around his stormy emerald eyes under that mask.

The moment he’d opened the door to their room, he ripped off his mask and flung it on the bed. After yanking the fingers of his gloves loose, he tossed them on the desk next to the door.

“Ignis,” she whispered as he advanced on her, his teeth clenched and bared into a snarl.

Grabbing her by the shoulders, he pushed her against the open door behind her, stumbling forward until it slammed into place, knocking the breath from her lungs as he smashed his lips and teeth against hers with a desperate moan. She grasped at his head, digging her fingers underneath the upper layers of his hair down to his scalp and sliding her nails up to his pate, grabbing two handfuls of the strands. He shuddered in pleasure, swirling his tongue over hers as he swiveled his rock-hard cock against her hip.

 _I can’t believe you managed to talk me into that,_ he said darkly, reaching for the invisible zipper at the back of her dress.

Her hands tightened in his hair, just a little, before she slid one down his chest, past his belt, and over the thick, engorged flesh tugging at the fabric of his trousers.

 _All in the line of duty. And don’t pretend as though you didn’t enjoy it yourself,_ she purred, squeezing him for emphasis.

He ripped his mouth away from her, his eyes shooting to the ceiling as he panted.

“Rose,” he groaned. “By the gods, it’s been far too long.”

“No one said you had to wait ten days to find relief, loon,” she smiled into his neck as he bucked into her hand, his own hands having stilled at her back. She breathed him in—the scent of sage and clean man, the warmth of his soft skin, that beautiful neck of his—she had to drag her tongue over it, to taste him as he shivered under her. “Honestly, your sense of self-control astounds me. Your age and virility? _One_ day is a feat.”

He leaned down, groaning into her shoulder as his hands finally found the thread that would reveal the pull of her zipper, and for once, he didn’t marvel at the fact that he’d touched technology that wouldn’t be invented on his world for probably about a thousand years.

“Finally alone,” he mumbled into her neck, still pressing every inch of himself against her body, against her grasping hand. “Finally, no one and nothing to get back to.”

His hand at her zipper had finally reached the small of her back, but he didn’t part her dress. Instead, his hands gently framed her mithril mask, pulling it at the angle that would release the wardrobe glue without leaving any on her face.

Honestly, it was as though he’d been born to live in the future.

After loosening the knot in his cravat and slipping it over his head, Laura took the opportunity to unbutton his waistcoat before setting to work on the little gold buttons of his dress shirt. Ignis placed her mask on the desk beside the door with a gentle tinkle of metal on wood, followed by his cufflinks. She could feel the shift of his weight beneath her hands as he toed off his dress shoes and pushed them to the side with a sweep of a foot, nothing but the sounds of their heavy breaths between them. The careful gentility with which he did these things belied his desperation, but cracks were beginning to show in that meticulously crafted façade of his when she pushed every layer covering the top of his body off his shoulders, and he swung them around to toss them on the back of desk chair haphazardly, pressing himself into her again as he latched onto the pulse point of her neck with insistent lips and tongue.

“Ignis,” she breathed into his hair, that beautiful heat of anticipation beginning to make her breathless. It _had_ been far too long since he’d been inside her, in reality, and perhaps this desperation of theirs could be the perfect opportunity to encourage him to let go of those more primal emotions he’d always held back with her out of courtesy.

Curling his long fingers around the neckline of her dress, he parted the fabric and pulled down slowly, revealing her inch by inch until it fell in a puddle at her feet with a rustle and puff of air. It was only when his hands reached for her ribs and found velvet instead of skin that he looked down.

“Rose,” he gasped, grazing his fingertips over the navy-blue velvet and the cream-colored bows and lace of her cinched corset. They stilled on the straps of her garters as he let out a shuddering breath. “You should have told me. I would’ve been more careful with you on the dance floor. How you managed to move like that . . .. Forgi—”

“Stop right there,” she interrupted, trailing her hands up his chest and cupping his jaw, smiling up at him. “The planet Lingeri, sixty-fourth century.”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked melodiously, his brow scrunching adorably in confusion.

“A tiny little planet with one export: lingerie, perfected over the centuries for fighting, dancing, any sort of movement. Lies flat under any garment, too. I helped stop a century-long war with a neighboring solar system, ending the Great Panty Raids of the sixty-fourth century, and the High King gave me this and hundreds of other pieces as payment.”

“The Great Panty Raids of— You’re making this up!” he accused, his hands still rubbing up and down the ribbing of the corset, pausing now and then to finger the bows at the front of her hips.

“I most certainly am not!”

Pleased was an understatement for his reaction as he stroked her curves, his pupils dilating as his eyes locked on the tops of her breasts swelling and contracting with her every breath.

“Can we,” he swallowed, his eyes darting up to hers. “May we keep it on?”

Knowing how much the velvet against his skin would drive him wild, she pulled him toward her, wrapping her lips around his collarbone and inserting a hand between them to undo his belt buckle.

 _So very beautiful,_ she said, tasting his warm skin as he moaned at the sensation of the velvet rubbing against the planes of his chest and abdomen. Just the freedom of being able to touch him however she liked made her spirit feel whole in a way she hadn’t since Ravatogh. _Of course we can._

He pulled away long enough to pull off his socks and step out of the trousers and boxer-briefs she’d maneuvered around his stiff erection and down to his ankles, and she took the opportunity to dismiss her dress away. He surprised her when he returned, dropping to his knees and pressing his mouth against her panties, his breath hot and wet against her as his fingers reached for the ties at the sides of her hips.

“Astrals, I _want_ you. You smell _so_ good,” he said, and his voice sounded almost pained with conflict as he stared up at her with wide, luminous eyes.

She gazed back down at him tenderly, stroking his jaw with a gentle hand, allowing the power of their bond to prickle at her fingertips and sink into his skin. He closed his eyes as she entreated, “I’m yours. Just take me, Ignis, please.”

Something seemed to darken in his eyes as the muscles in his jaw twitched, and he yanked at the ties, pulling her panties free of the garters and tossing them aside. Bending low and skimming his fingers down her legs, he took a moment to caress the sparkling silver straps of her shoes, just below where Eilendil’s heart had been moved for the evening around her ankle.

“Beautiful,” he murmured before hitching her leg up over his shoulder and burying his face between her legs, forcing his hot, wet tongue between her folds and wriggling against her already dripping sex.

Laura leaned back against the door so he could have better access despite their disparate heights. _More, oh please, Ignis, more_ , she begged _._ Tilting her head back and gasping at that tingling wave of _want_ trickling down her legs and making her knees weak, she braced herself with a gentle hand to the top of his head.

 _Have I ever told you how much I love the taste of you? Salty, sweet, that indefinable musk that is all your own._ He moaned as he pushed two fingers deep into her, pressing his thumb against her clit. _I could drink it from you now, you’re so wet for me._

“Oh my god,” she whispered, feeling the sensation of a telepathic tongue and teeth at both of her nipples. “Ignis.”

Really, she should have known better than to teach him this; he was going to kill her with it now. As it was, in these short five weeks since he’d first put his tongue to her, he’d already learned how to most efficiently pull her apart at the seams.

 _Yesss,_ he hissed as he bit down sharply on both breasts before soothing them over with soft lips. _You know what that does to me when you call out my name like that. Say it again._ He pulled back just long enough to nip hard at her inner thigh before burying his tongue in her again.

“Ignis!”

It was quiet in the dark room, enhancing the sounds of her sopping sex, her breathless sighs of his name, and his growls of encouragement as he moved in her. But just as she was about to let go and crest that wave tingling to the tips of her toes, he pulled out and away, scooping her legs out from underneath her as he stood in one fluid movement. She didn’t have time to register the shock or sudden emptiness she felt at the change as he tossed her bodily on the bed, leaping on top of her and pinning her wrists with a hand, her ankles with his legs.   

It appeared as though she’d frustrated him more than she’d intended this evening, but that wicked, mischievous part of her was eager to see just how far he would take this. He’d always been so gentle, so reverent each time they’d made love, with a few momentary exceptions. Any time he’d thrust a little too forcefully, run his teeth across her skin a little too sharply, uttered a vulgarity, or did anything that was intended more for his pleasure than her worship, she’d rewarded him with a gasp of his name and a rush of heat through their connection. And fuck, he had to have felt how much it had turned her on the day before yesterday when he’d uttered that word in the shower.

He faltered wrestling her into submission for a moment when she fought against him, the stirrings of remorse growing in the burgundy thread in her mind, but she reassured him with waves of naked lust—the struggle was part of the fun.

Gripping her more tightly to keep her still, he crooned in a dark, velvet voice, “Hush now, you know you want this.” He thrust against her, sliding through her sex, still slick and hot from her arousal and his saliva. “Testing and teasing me all evening as you have.”

She nodded, whimpering, “Yes, please, Ignis.”

He buried his nose at the juncture of her shoulder and neck, inhaling deeply. “I can smell it on you, your desire for me. Gods, it makes me want to—” He bit down on the sensitive skin sharply, but even through the brewing storm of passion in his mind, he was careful not to mark her.

Suddenly pulling away and sitting up, he reached for her, thrusting his cock, slippery with her fluid and his precum, into her hand and squeezing her fingers around him into a fist. Oh, god, who was this man who simply took what he wanted? And how could she get more of him? As she ran her thumb along his rim, he threw his head back and closed his eyes, rocking into her.

“Feel that, Rose. Feel what you do to me,” he murmured. “All my life I’ve been in control of everything. But in these last months, I’ve found myself experiencing this unmanageable desire as I drive the long roads, walk the meandering paths, and stroll the city streets. Look at what you’ve reduced me to.”

“And it’s stunning,” she said, emphasizing her point with a tighter squeeze to his head. “I love you like this. I love you every way that you are.”

He seemed to bite back a cry as he snatched himself out of her hand and grasped his base to line himself up, slipping his head just inside to tease her. Like ramming a blade into flesh, he thrust up roughly, and they both shuddered together at the delicious violence of it.

“Fuck, Rose!” he gasped vehemently as he set a savage pace, thrusting in sharp, quick jerks so that her hips pushed into the mattress with each advance. By god, she loved it when that word fell from those perfectly elegant, courteous lips of his, and as she clung to his shoulders, she leaned up to taste them, whimpering at his assault.

He gasped when she wrapped her legs carefully around his hips so as not to hurt him with the heels of her shoes, pushing him deeper into her, and the hands that hadn’t ceased rubbing at the velvet of her corset finally stilled for a moment. “Is this what you wanted, my dear? Did you want me to fuck you like this? To drive my cock into you until you’ve forgotten your own name?”

“Yesss,” she moaned.

“Gods damn it, Rose. You’re hot, so hot and tight around me, I can feel myself stretching you. So warm, so wet. All these long years I’ve spent in service to royalty and look at you. A crowned queen, my _wife_ ,” he growled through clenched teeth, his eyes darting up to the collection of diamonds and sapphires in her hair, “writhing beneath me.”

The spear of shock and heat at his words passed through her into him, but she could feel the undercurrent of his thoughts: _Oh, ever-loving Astrals, did I really just say all that out loud?_

 _Yes, you did. Don’t stop._ Already having been driven to the edge once this evening, she could feel herself getting closer, her body tightening each time he sheathed himself inside her.

 _Mine,_ he punctuated with a thrust. _You are mine. Always, no matter what happens._

Oh, Ignis, here it was—the root of this desperation was beginning to seep through the cracks of the walls of that exquisite burgundy mind of his. She desperately wanted to soothe him, to shore him up and keep him strong, but he needed this, needed to break if she was ever to reassure him that the situation wasn’t completely hopeless.

His pace slowed with his words as he adjusted the angle of his thrusts, rubbing his rim right where he knew she loved it most, and _oh god,_ that prickling shiver raced up and down her spine as she felt every contour of his silky skin caress her from the inside. She couldn’t hold back the shuddering gasps and tightening clenches each time their hips touched and he was fully seated inside her.

“Ignis, please, love.”

“I’ll never tire of watching your face as I come into you, as you come onto me. And even as we leave our sanctuary and join the world once more, knowing that your body houses my seed fills me with fierce pride and profound joy that I never would have expected to feel.” The tone of his voice took on an almost panicked desperation as he buried his face in her neck. “You are mine, my wife, my lover, just as I am yours. Forever.”

This was too much, more than she could bear. Their lovely feedback loop, which had only been used for pleasure in the past, was now tainted with black streaks of his anguish, and now hers, but they were both too close to the edge to be deterred by it. With his final three thrusts before they both broke on each other, she could hear the thoughts he’d been holding back, and it felt as though her soul was going to tear in two along with the orgasm ripping through her body.

 _Thank you. I love you. Goodbye,_ he whispered to himself before he let go with a cry of her name.

She stroked her nails lightly down the ridges of his backbone, soothing him as they rode out the shockwaves together, as he filled her with his wet, warm come with each shivering pulse. But as she tried to push him to the side so she could demand that he just _talk_ to her, he forced his arms underneath her back, clutching her more tightly to him.

“I just need to know one thing,” he said in a low, choked voice into her ear.

“Please, Ignis. I can’t tell you anything until you tell me what you know.”

“Will I die tomorrow at the speech or the following day at the rite?”

Laura blinked in surprise, pulling her head away and doing her best to turn to look at him. “You see? This is why you need to talk to me. What?” Had he been thinking his death was a certainty this entire time?

“’The Mate lives or dies by your choice,’” he said in a strangled whisper. “Either I am going to die during the next two days or you are, and I would rather it be me. But given that I am to complete the map to Pitioss after the rite, it seems as though you’re planning for it to be you.”

“First of all,” she said, probably not completely keeping the irritation out of their connection or her voice, “it’s my choice to make—not yours, like it or not. As a time insensitive being, you shouldn’t even be aware there is a choice, but here we are.”

Looking ahead, she knew that tomorrow would be fine, but the day of the rite was a complete, indecipherable mess—tangled with fixed points, potential divergence points, and about ten thousand flux points. Opening her time sense, she could see those fearsome fixed points still hovering, the only parts of the timeline that held still while the rest whirled around in writhing, seething chaos. But each time she’d tried to decipher them, to find out _what_ events of that day would be fixed, the answers eluded her like a thief in the night. She wouldn’t know what they were until they stumbled right on top of the event, it seemed, as usual.

“It would be the day of the rite, but I suppose I should start from the beginning,” she said with a sigh, and sensing a lecture, Ignis finally indicated he’d like to pull out of her. She summoned the wipes, and he took care of the two of them as quickly and efficiently as possible before settling down next to her, covering them with her blanket, and propping himself up on an elbow.

“There are three types of points in time. The first point is a fixed point. No matter what happens, this event must occur. They are the main narrative that this universe is supposed to have and cannot be changed.”

“What happens if something interferes?” he asked.

“I did that once,” she whispered in shame. “The Doctor took me back in time to be with my dad before he got hit by a car, but I saved him and nearly ended the entire universe in the process. My dad had to throw himself in front of that car in the end, just to put things right and reverse the sterilization process that had already begun.”

“I see,” he said diplomatically, but he settled a hand on her hip, stroking softly in an effort to comfort her.

“The next kind of point is a flux point. These are events that can change little details of the universe’s narrative, and the universe adjusts to compensate for them, but the main narrative remains untouched. I can change or influence these points at will.”

The chaos of the flux points was far more comforting than the fixed points, in her opinion, even if they did so often spell death for Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio—nearly every day. But there was something different about this prophesied one from Gentiana. It felt heavier, as though it could turn into a divergence point if she slipped the wrong word in somewhere, if it wasn’t averted at exactly the right moment.

“And because my death can be influenced by your choice, it is thus a flux point?” he asked, but his fingers tightened on her hip as his tone grew a sharp edge to it. “And what is the price for changing this event?”

“It’s a flux point . . . for now. I’m not sure where you got the idea that it had to be your life or mine, but it doesn’t work like that. There’s a third option where we both live, and believe it or not, that’s the one I’m aiming for.”

He couldn’t know just how very thin the margin was for that possibility, how very careful she would have to be in stepping in. Even in this conversation—if she said the wrong thing now, he could try to influence events and get one or both of them killed, perhaps even end the universe.

The hope glowing in his eyes at her words made her hearts clench. “Truly?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not frightened,” she said, trying to be as honest with him as she could. The rite would be dangerous, for all of them. Even Prompto or Gladio could die if things didn’t go just the right way. Still, the flux points of their potential deaths seemed lighter, somehow—easier to change than Ignis’s. “I could save the world but lose you.”

Of course, if it was necessary, she’d pay the price of her life to save his—not only because she’d promised both him and Regis, but because he was easily worth it, the best of humanity lying here unassuming in her arms. No matter what, she wouldn’t allow his death to be her fault; her husband would burn his full potential, with or without her.

“That’s as it should be,” he said gravely, responding to her words and not her hidden thoughts. “Your life, and the lives of the world, hold far more value than mine.”

At the very least, they could agree that both their lives didn’t come before the entire planet, but how did one measure the value of a single life? Length lived meant nothing, of course—she was old enough to know that a longer life wasn’t always a better one. Was it number of people saved? Taking into account the ratio of lives saved to lives lost, Ignis’s record was far cleaner than hers. And god—his soul—there was no contest there. But there was no point arguing with him; even simply feeling her disagreement in his head had him shaking his own back and forth in tiny jerks.

After a moment, he sighed and closed his eyes. “You said ‘for now.’ It can become a fixed point, or the third type?”

“It can become the third type—a divergence point, which we _absolutely cannot_ make. There are certain events that can go either way, and are significant enough to split this universe off into multiple threads. Normally, universes come pre-split, but they can very rarely split spontaneously . . . unless I’m present.”

“And what happens if a new universe is created while you’re present? I remember you mentioning before that you couldn’t create an alternate version of yourself, but what would happen if you did?”

“There would be two of me, eventually four, eventually infinity, all with the power of time, space, and universes; all able to jump dimensions; all unable to exist in the same dimension at once, just like with me and Eos, but worse. I must remain a unique event in the multiverse, completely pan dimensional.”

When Ignis’s brow furrowed, she reached up to smooth it with a gentle thumb, but his voice was still troubled when he asked, “Won’t my living instead of dying create a new thread?”

“Not necessarily. Flux points and divergence points—they depend on so many factors I can’t explain. It’s instinct for me that I know as it’s happening.”

He huffed in frustration, and she had to smile a little at his impatience. How many years of temporal mechanics had she had to take in order to understand these concepts that she was reducing down to a single conversation? “I don’t understand what makes flux points and divergence points different. The outcome, obviously, but the point itself?”

“All right—flux points. Say you’re trying to decide between wearing your jacket tomorrow or not. The universe doesn’t care if you make that choice, and it compensates for your decision. Some minor things may change—maybe someone thinks you look hotter with your jacket off and decides to kiss you in the street, but the main narrative for the universe stays the same.  

“But if wearing your jacket tomorrow started a series of events that led to the end of all mankind, then not wearing your jacket would start a new universe. Understand?”

“Well, if anything, you’ve made me suddenly anxious about my clothing choices.” He sighed before speaking in a bitter tone, “I don’t care for the fact that my path is set in stone.”

“I know it seems like it is, but it isn’t. There are hundreds of millions of you out there right now, living out every decision you’ve ever made significant enough to create a divergence point. You just happened to be assigned to this one. And you can still influence your own flux points, too.”

His mind grew worried as he wriggled his arm beneath her and pulled her flush against him, toying gently at the bow at the back of her corset, untying it and beginning to loosen the laces absent-mindedly. “On the off-chance you can answer, will Noct be all right?”

Even though the floor seemed to drop out from beneath her back at that moment, she stifled the sharp inhalation she so desperately wanted to take.

So he didn’t know. Did Noct know? Whatever happened at that rite, Noct had to live, because he had to die in another time and place. It was fixed, and no matter how many times she’d gone over it, with and without Regis, there was no path of the timeline she could see that would get that stubborn fixed point to move. Of course, he could always die at the rite, but as the entire world would then likely end, nothing would matter at that point.

And looking at the timelines now—she couldn’t tell him, oh _god,_ she couldn’t tell him. His damned obstinance when it came to Noct would mean he would do something at this rite to change the course of events. He could be informed, perhaps, by someone in his own timeline after certain fixed events passed, but what would that mean to him if the truth hadn’t come from her? Noct was the only thing they’d ever fought about, the only thing that overrode her. What would he do, how would he react if he learned of Noct’s fate? She would have to tell him she’d known all along—honesty and openness were paramount to a marriage that would last a lifetime, and she never could bring herself to lie to him.

And he would despise her for it. And there was nothing she could do but wait for it to happen.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you that,” she managed in a steady tone, but oh, how she wanted to be weak, to have him hold her against his soft, hard, warm body as she wept into his chest for their future loss—to either death or betrayal, to make him promise that he wouldn’t leave her no matter what happened.

But in nearly every sense, she was the Doctor now, and she had to be the strong one, even as it killed her to do so.

“And I’m assuming what few plans you involved me in so far are all we can do to prepare?” he asked gently into her forehead, the images of his training flashing through his mind.

Steeling her mind and shoring up her hearts, she said, “I started teaching you because I wanted you to stop getting hurt and because you had the potential. It had nothing to do with the rite.” Though she had to admit, she felt much better for his chances of survival with him going into this at his current level of proficiency. “But no, there’s nothing we can do to plan.” Because there never was in these damn situations.

“I don’t understand how you’re capable of living like this, of rushing headlong into danger without so much as an inkling of intention.”

“It’s just like how I taught you—the onslaught of information is too much to plan for, so you just have to let it wash over you and use your instinct.”

She could feel him wanting to say something else, something dark and heartbreaking, but he hesitated. “Let it all out now, love,” she said before pressing her lips to the hollow of his throat. “We’re going to enjoy the rest of this night and all day tomorrow. We’ll not allow this darkness to ruin it.”

She could feel him nod as he said, “I imagine this has something to do with the Chancellor. If he is, in fact, able to infect someone with Starscourge, do you know if you are immune?”

“I don’t. It’s possible I am; there are many human diseases to which I’m immune, but there’s only one way to find out for certain, and I’m not keen on trying it.”

“Best not to chance it, yes,” he agreed. The air was heavy with the silence for a moment, and his fingers seem to dig into the ribbons at her back a little before he continued, “Should I be the one to contract the scourge, you have my permission—no—I request that you eliminate me without regret or hesitation.”

She’d been trying her best not to envision such a scenario—the whites of his beautiful green eyes blackened with disease as they had for that man, his lovely creamy skin pulsing with vicious poison—all before he lost his invaluable mind and transformed into a grotesque mockery of everything he’d been in life. She would do what needed to be done without hesitation because his exceptional soul didn’t deserve to exist in such a state for even a moment, but the thought of events having degraded to such depravity . . . no.

“I would. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“The same for me, too, you know,” she murmured, and he sucked in a breath before nodding. “I think I’ve told you all I can. Does it make you feel at least a little better about things?” she asked, dragging her lips through the light brown, sparse hairs on his chest, tickling him a little.

“Than being absolutely certain that one of us is going to die in two days? Yes, immensely so.”

The ribbon on her corset finally loose enough to maneuver over her head, he helped her remove it before kneeling at her feet to unstrap her shoes and sliding her stockings down her legs. He came up to press his lips against her forehead before pulling back, his eyes raised to the crown on her head. “Your Majesty,” he began, but she cut him off.

“Please, not you. Never you.”

“You permitted Gladio to use your title this evening, why not me?” he asked, looking down at her in concern.

“Perhaps it’s unfair of me,” she admitted, “but Gladio means it out of casual respect. When you say it, all I can think of are those days after Longwythe.”

“That truly bothered you so much? I’d thought it was the use of the title itself.”

“Not so much the title as what it represented—your free spirit, tamed, subservient, broken.”

“I wouldn’t say I was broken when I met you,” he said, his gaze drifting away from her face. “Though . . . perhaps not entirely whole, either.”

“Ignis,” she whispered, leaning up to capture his lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. He tilted his head, his hand coming around to twine in her hair as he flicked his nimble tongue out for a teasing taste of her.

Between gentle, nibbling caresses of his lips, he said, “As I was saying, Rose, would you permit me to remove your royal crown?”

Despite his polite, musical tone, she could still feel the amazement and incredulity in his mind at his words—after all he’d just said and done to her.

“Please, do, though you hardly need to ask permission after that seduction you just performed.”

“I confess I enjoyed . . . being like that more than I thought I would,” he mumbled, the heat rising to his cheeks as he looked down at her shoulder.

She blew out a huff of a laugh through her nose before saying, “Good. Sweet and reverent is wonderful—so warm, loving, and tender, but watching you let go and be a bit filthy is . . . delicious.”

“Hmm,” he replied, reaching up toward her crown in an attempt to hide the pink on his cheeks deepening, as he no doubt knew she could still see them even in the darkened room.

Ever so gently, he picked out the fifty or so pins holding the crown to her hair with nimble fingers, pausing every once in a while to roll over and place a few on the bedside table. Laura watched him work admiringly in silence—the way his serious eyes would dart back and forth over his work, a little frown of concentration tugging down the corner of his lips; the dedication he put forth, no matter how mundane the chore; the careful questing of his fingertips as he searched for the next pin; the way he organized the task, ensuring that every pin was pulled from an area before moving on to the next. The only sounds between them were their gentle breaths mixing in the air and his occasional hum as his hands brushed against yet another pin.

 _How do you not have a splitting headache from this thing?_ he asked as he finally removed the heavy mass of metal and precious stones.

_I could tell you some stupid ass metaphor I kept hearing about the weight of the crown on the monarch’s head, but I’ll spare you._

_Well, if it’s true, it’s true, though the crowns of Lucian royalty tend to be less extravagant for that reason._ He moved to set it on the bedside table, but she laid out a hand to stop him.

 _Sorry, I don’t like to have it out long,_ she said as she took it from him and dismissed it. _It means a lot to me._

_No need to apologize. I’m surprised you wore it tonight._

_Nowhere else I do these days. And I love it more for sentimental reasons than the meaning behind it. A dear friend made it for me from stones I got from James and Eilendil._  

As soon as he had her hair free of stray pins, he ran his fingers up her neck and into her hair, rubbing hard at her scalp in tight circles until she closed her eyes and hummed softly. He leaned forward to press soft, sweet kisses to her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, and underneath her ears, as he continued to massage her scalp.

“Where do you want to go tonight?” she asked softly. “I want to make you smile.”

In response to her words, his eyes seemed to lighten as his lips slowly pulled wide, showing off the very tips of his upper teeth. “My own personal goddess dedicated to making me happy. How did I get to be so fortunate?”

“You said yes,” she said simply, though it hadn’t been a simple matter for him to do so—not to her. Her experience in life proved that very few ever would. Even bonded as they were, he might very soon find out that the cost of being with her was too great, but she couldn’t dwell on that thought. As she’d just finished telling him, tonight and tomorrow were to be about them—celebrating that they’d found each other amidst this endless sea of people and getting to experience that one emotion that could bring down empires, that could inspire a being to stretch beyond the possibilities of their limited existence and create something everlasting, that could move even the most powerful beings in all of creation to docility.

His eyebrows twitched into a furrow as he frowned in thought. “I confess I haven’t given it much consideration today. As much as I’d like to complete that quantum chemistry course, I find I’m in the mood for something. . . simpler and more cheerful. Would you mind choosing?”

Unbeknownst to him, she and Eilendil had already planned on surprising him this evening with a flight over the forest during the Arkheincantern, when the Arkhein would shake their spirits free from their wood-bound bodies and sing in celebration of the coming of spring. But there was time to fit another adventure in before that, and since he wasn’t in the mood for attending a lecture, ballet, or an exotic planet as he so often preferred, tonight would be the perfect opportunity for giving him back part of his childhood.

Part of the reason why her dear husband never seemed to fit in with others was that he’d never had the same opportunities as other children—to laugh, to play, to experience joy and wonder. He didn’t even realize that it was something he’d been missing in his life, something that affected his ability to laugh now as an adult, to even know what _joy_ felt like. Little experiences, like taking his boots off in the grass and spinning or building pillow forts and reading by flashlight, were some of the subtler adventures she tried to squeeze into his life to correct this travesty, and if he was giving her the opportunity, she had just the thing.

When they met on the bridge, she let her eyes travel from his boots to his dress shirt. “Would you mind terribly if I dressed you for the occasion?”

He raised a single eyebrow at her, his lips twitching up a little at the corner. “As though I were I doll?” He mock-sighed wearily. “Very well. I suppose no one will truly see me anyway.”

She smirked at him in return before blinking—changing his winklepickers to Italian oxfords, not terribly different from his usual style, and his jacket and coeurl-print dress shirt to a cozy cream-colored turtleneck and black peacoat with a dark purple cashmere scarf. His trousers she left as they were, as she’d always secretly loved the way the stripes down the sides accentuated the length of his legs. It would hardly be an appropriate outfit for what they were doing had they been in the real world, but he was beautiful, and they weren’t in the real world.

“Hmm,” he said introspectively, looking down at himself. “I have to admit I was expecting something far more . . . traumatizing. This might even be something I would wear in Insomnia—on one of my more casual days, perhaps.”

“Well, I would _hope_ you would trust me not to put you in a clown outfit!” she said with a laugh, and his quirked lips stretched up even further into an amused grin. Leaning up to place a peck on his chin, she whispered, “Close your eyes.”

When she’d created the scene around them, she took him by the wrist and pressed a steaming cardboard cup of his favorite hot coffee in his hand, perhaps with the tiniest bit of milk and pumpkin spice—it was fall, after all, and she knew he’d hate the syrupy sweetness that was the classic pumpkin spice latte.

“You can use that to keep your hands warm, or there are some gloves in your pocket,” she said as he opened his eyes, but the coffee and the gloves were forgotten in favor of his surroundings.

“Autumn, lovely,” he whispered in awe, his green eyes growing light and bright in the late morning sun, which was shafting through the trees in bright beams, highlighting fiery reds, glowing golds, flaming oranges, and even the vibrant greens of the still-growing grass sticking up in patches through the blanket of leaves. “We have autumn in Insomnia, of course, but there aren’t enough trees to make it this . . . stunning.”

“Come on then,” she said with a grin, taking his free hand in both hers and skipping backwards along the path to the lake. “Let’s go for a walk.”

His mind was still and silent as they walked hand in hand, their feet kicking through the deep layer of dry, crunchy leaves on the path and filling the crisp, cool air with the sound of roaring waves of rustling. Each time the breeze would blow through the trees, creating that incomparable sighing psithurism, he would lift his face to the sky, breathing in deeply before taking another sip of his coffee. She would’ve thought he’d have grown used to walking in the wilderness by now and would find it dull, but the peace in his expression told a different story. He didn’t need to protect anyone here, as no wild animal or daemon was about to come out and attack them, so he was able to completely let go of being the wary lookout and truly enjoy the marvel around him.

She noted with pride that he dismissed his own coffee cup when he’d finished, just as they came within sight of the massive black lake—its dark, flat waters acting as the perfect mirror to reflect the vivid colors of the tree line back up to the sky, creating an almost disorienting effect of the forest dipping below their feet.

“The absolute peace of this place, the quiet—this is tranquil,” he said on a sigh, his expression reflecting his words.

It was funny he would say such a thing, as she was just about to upend that peace and quiet and make a little noise.

“Ignis,” she said, her voice growing soft with barely contained excitement as she grabbed for his hand, because _this_ was the best part of living. This racing in her hearts, this bubbling in her chest that set her teeth on edge, knowing that he would be joining her in this sweeping emotion in mere moments—this was what living was _for_. “Run!”

With a shriek of laughter, she turned and took off, but he’d grown used to that command by now and was right beside her, laughing at her joy and absurdity as they sloshed through the thick forest floor along the shoreline and startled a flock of magenta and turquoise Phlathian geese with their commotion.

 _Do you see that giant leaf pile up ahead?_ she asked, indicating the messy mosaic of dead leaves about seven feet high.

 _Yes,_ he said hesitantly, idly wondering whether she was about to inform him that it was going to come to life and swallow him whole, which wasn’t completely contrary to what was about to happen.

_I want you to leap into it._

_Why?_

Why, indeed? This was part of his problem.

 _Joy,_ she said, allowing the anticipation to leak through their connection.

Still somewhat bemused as to the purpose, he did as she asked, using those long legs of his to leap through the air and dive headfirst into the unreasonably large pile of leaves, the envy of any child growing up in an area with an autumn. She lost her grip on his hand as her senses were drowned out by the darkness of the pile, the gentle rustling scratches on her skin, the scent of fresh decaying leaves, and the sound of crunching and . . . hysterical snorting laughter.

She surfaced to find him lying on his back, half eaten alive by the pile, his arms spread wide, his eyes scrunched closed, his mouth open and pulled wide, creases forming around his lips as he laughed freely up at the sky. Doing her best to heave her body over to him, she settled into his side as he hauled her close, still laughing with his eyes closed.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice still wheezy with amusement, but as he looked down at her, his eyes were alight—grass green with life and wonder and elation. “I really do love you so completely, you know.”

“As I love you,” she said, her hearts swelling with affection. “The night’s only beginning, though. Eilendil and I have a surprise for you.”

His eyes wandered up to the bright lavender sky. “Do you think we could lie here for a bit, perhaps . . . do that again before we go?”

She stretched her neck out to place a lingering, wet kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Whatever you wish.”


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW again. That's right . . . again.

Ignis first came to awareness with a face-full of pillowcase, and he smiled contentedly, burying his nose into the scent of fresh laundry detergent and wriggling his naked body to feel the sheets brushing against his skin, perverse yet enjoyable as the sensation was. He reached out a hand, expecting to find Rose’s warm body next to him, but his fingers only met cold sheets. He’d just been with her; where had she gone?

“Stay right there,” he heard her soft voice call from near the door. “Don’t you dare even move.”

“As you wish,” he spoke into the pillow, muffling his words completely.

Rustling—was she removing clothes? A dip at the foot of the mattress, the caress of her hair up his legs and back, the brush of her warm bare skin, the scent of pine and kithairon mixing in with the sheets—he sighed in contentment as her full weight settled on his back, her hands spreading wide over his ribs and her lips and tongue latching immediately to the most sensitive spot at the back of his neck.

What a difference a single conversation made. With the knowledge that he and Rose weren’t necessarily doomed to die tomorrow for certain, it became almost another day, for it seemed they were all constantly hovering on the verge of dying on most days. And no matter what was to happen tomorrow, today was a rare and exceptional occasion—for the first time since he’d met her, the first time in his life, he had an entire day dedicated to nothing but whatever his whims desired.

That wet, tingling heat at the back of his neck was traveling down to his groin, which was twitching as it lengthened into the mattress and currently telling him that what he desired was her.

“I didn’t realize you could leave while we were on the bridge. Where did you go?” he asked, more from curiosity than concern.

She moved down to his shoulder, placing open-mouthed biting kisses across the muscle, making him shiver in delight.

_It’s going to rain this morning, so I got us breakfast to eat here. I’ll be damned if you cook a single thing today._

“Mmm,” he hummed, rolling to his side to dump her off him before grabbing her and pulling her back flush against his chest. “I must admit I’m not particularly interested in breakfast at the moment, but I appreciate your thoughtfulness nevertheless.”

She sighed as he pressed his heavy length into her backside, bringing a hand to his hip to knead the muscle there and encourage him further. He’d never been with her in this position before, but as he angled himself between her legs, parting her lips to rub himself against her most sensitive areas and allowing her heat to drip down his erection, he had to admit he enjoyed how accessible her body was like this. His lips had free access to the back of her neck and the shell of her ear, two places that never failed to send a rush of warmth and a shiver through her, and his hands were free to thumb her soft pink areolae, skim down her belly and hips, and slip between her folds to massage that luscious secret place that never failed to make her breath hitch with want for him.

She angled her hips so he could easily slip inside her, and he had to close his eyes, grazing his teeth against her neck from the sheer relish he felt at becoming one with her. He could feel her rejoicing in their union as well, in the feeling of being whole and complete in that very moment, unrushed as they were.

Last night had been a combination of deliciously satisfying and appalling, loosing those dark desires hidden deep within himself—the part of him that relished in burying his daggers into the heart of his foes and sometimes whispered in his ear to bury himself to the hilt in her. He’d believed that darkness to be buried by a lifetime of gentility and courtesy, but it had been unearthed the moment he’d begun speaking to her in such a manner. At first, he was astonished to find that she enjoyed this more bestial nature of his, but he should have known better—she was his perfect match in every way—whether a goddess, queen, or simple lover.

That didn’t mean this more reverent, gentle form of expression wasn’t the epitome of his existence.

No telepathic tricks, no filthy words, no jarring thrusts—only the heat of their two bodies, the susurrus of soft skin against skin, a gentle caress of his hair, lingering sighs, his lips against her neck as they moved—intensely but unhurriedly, the need and pressure and pleasure mounting and building slowly like the climax of a good book. He held her close after, serenely breathing in her scent as he softened inside her, as she stroked his hip with her nails.

The gentle sound of splattering raindrops on concrete had just begun to drift through the open windows when she said softly, “Can I draw you a bath?”

A _bath_. How on Eos could she have known? As his own apartment only had a shower stall and he hadn’t often had time to indulge in the hotels’ tubs while on the road, soaking in a tub was one of Ignis’s most cherished indulgences that he’d managed to experience least often in his life. The curling steam, the hot water soaking and warming him down to the bone, and the scent of his soap building with the humidity in the room had been heaven the four or five times he’d managed to find the time and facilities—when he’d lived at the Citadel or that fateful night in Galdin.

“I can draw my own,” he said, not wishing to create work for her to do. Today was, after all, her day off as well. “Or . . . you could join me, and I could draw _us_ a bath.” It was likely lecherous of him to wish for it, but the idea of her sharing the experience—of her wet, clean skin against his as they floated together in the soapy water seemed the only thing that could elevate the experience to divine.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, twisting around to press her lips to his before rolling out of bed. “You handle the water temperature, I handle the aroma therapy?”

“All right,” he said suspiciously. There was something about that light in her eyes that told him she didn’t mean a simple bar of soap run under the tap water.

After making their way across the room, nude, oddly enough, to the brightly-lit black-and-white tiled room, Ignis leaned over the tub and twisted the faucet, adjusting until the water was just beyond the point of being uncomfortable so it would be perfect after hitting the cool porcelain of the tub.

“Would you care to test the temperature?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Whatever’s good for you is good for me.” He heard the whoosh of her summoning and looked up in time to see her uncap a bottle and hold it out to him. “Is this all right for the scent? Not your usual sage, but I think it may suit you.”

Breathing in, the aroma of the soap was brighter than he typically chose, but the scent was fresh and clean—peppermint and citrus, with perhaps some sort of woodiness and mossiness he couldn’t identify.

“That’s lovely, yes. Are you certain you wish to use something so lavish on an ordinary bath?”

“Nothing about today is going to be ordinary,” she said, her words heavy like a promise, and Ignis had to push aside the reasons for her tone that flashed briefly through his mind. After all, even if tomorrow were just another day, it was true that today was a most extraordinary occasion—a celebration of their nuptials.

By the time he was finished brushing his teeth, the tub was nearly overflowing with creamy, foamy bubbles, and the steam in the room was thick with woody, spicy peppermint perfume.

“Dramatic, as always,” he said with a wry smile, rolling his eyes. As he turned the water off and stepped into the tub, he noticed something even more dramatic than the bubbles. “Rose? Why does the water look like space?”

Shoving aside the five-inch-thick layer of bubbles, he could see that the water had been transformed into a vibrant deep blue, with curling swirls of glittering stars and gaseous nebulae orbiting his hands as he stirred his fingers through the water. He sat down, leaning back and letting the heat of the water loosen him even more than the serenity of the morning already had.

“Because it’s fun,” she said with a shrug, laying a towel over the vanity stool and pulling it up behind his head before taking a seat. “And because I could.”

With a deep, contented sigh, he wrapped his arms over the cold porcelain sides of the tub, reveling in the temperature contrast as the waves of scented steam washed over his face.

“Are you not joining me?”

“In a bit,” she said, conjuring a plastic cup and dipping it into the water. “My hair doesn’t need washing today, but yours does. Just relax.”

She’d washed his hair before, back in the shower in Lestallum, and Ignis had considered it to be one of the most pleasurable experiences of his life as she scraped her soapy nails through his scalp, sending streams of trickling pleasure prickling over his skin. But this was getting to be too much. He wasn’t certain if he could handle being waited on hand and foot by her all day as though he were royalty.

“Hey,” she said gently in response to his thoughts, leaning over his shoulder to meet his gaze with concerned eyes. “If you want to be left alone, I understand, but I happen to enjoy taking care of you, yeah? Truly, I really, really do.”

Indeed she did, and that was part of the reason why they’d always worked so well together. From the very first time she’d accommodated his limitations when they’d made love in Lestallum, he had always seen very clearly in her mind that pleasing him, serving him, making him happy truly brought her contentment and completion. Looking into her mind now, which she had left wide open so he could feel the truth of her words, he could plainly see that she wasn’t doing this out of a sense of obligation or because of what tomorrow might bring—she wanted to make him shiver, to pleasure him, to bring him as much happiness as he’d brought her. Though he still, after all this time, couldn’t fathom how his mere existence brought her so much bliss, it seemed only logical to settle back and allow them to both enjoy each other’s joy.

“I certainly do _not_ wish to be left alone,” he said vehemently, tilting his head back as she let the hot water from the cup trickle down his head and shoulders. “It takes some getting used to, being cared for like this.”

“I realize that. And it’s more difficult like this, trying to cram all the spoiling in one day,” she said after summoning his shampoo. “If we lived together like normal people, I certainly wouldn’t be washing your hair every day!”

He chuckled a little, but it was cut off by a groan as that familiar satisfaction washed over him at the sensation of her fingertips digging into his scalp. Sighing again in pleasure, he leaned his head back as she massaged his hair, neck, and shoulders and imagined what a home life with her back in Insomnia would be like. Home—it wasn’t really a concept he’d thought of in the way most people did. His apartment certainly hadn’t been a home—more of a safe haven for quiet recuperation. Home to him had been the city, the Citadel, and most of all, Noct.

He and Laura had discussed at length before they’d bonded how they would handle the professional spheres of their lives. She had understood how all-encompassing his duties to the Crown were and was willing to be anything—whatever was of most help—to assist the kingdom and be with him. But he hadn’t given any thought to what coming home to her would be like—of preparing supper together, of curling up in their bed and going on an adventure together, of waking up in the morning with a fresh cup of coffee and her bright eyes. The domesticity of it warmed him in a way the bathwater hadn’t.

But they had to survive tomorrow, first, and then getting the Crystal back.

“What are you doing?” he asked suddenly when she’d leaned over to scoop up a handful of bubbles and rub them on his chin so that they hung down in a curtain around his face.

“Bubble beard,” she replied as though that was meant to explain everything. “You may not have Santa Claus in this universe, but I bet the kids all tried to get a beard like Ramuh, or something, when they took a bath.”

Ignis looked down at the ring of white around his face, scooped another handful of bubbles, and arranged them so they formed a long, tapered triangle down to his chest. The process was actually more diverting than he thought it would be. Still feeling somewhat ridiculous, he turned his head to grin up at her, even if she couldn’t see his mouth through the thick layer of foam over his lips.

“How do I look?”

Her eyes grew soft, warm, and sparkling as she grinned back at him. “Absolutely, adorably ridiculous,” she said, punctuating her words with kisses to his temple and a giggle.

Once she had finished rinsing his hair and had settled between his legs with her back to his chest, he took the opportunity to return her favor by soaping up a cloth and cleaning her, rubbing it meticulously and sensuously over every part of her body he could reach from his position as she leaned back into his shoulder and pressed the occasional kiss to his neck.

By the time he’d scrubbed her skin until it was petal soft and massaged her shoulders, neck, arms, and even her hands, the bubbles had disappeared to reveal that velvet sapphire of the night sky and its thousands of golden glittering stars. He feathered his hands over the surface of the water, idly watching the currents as she sat up between his legs and set to work on him in reciprocation—scrubbing everything from between his toes to his neck, even making him sit up to do his back, until his skin glowed pink.  

As her fingers replaced the cloth, he leaned his head back, letting every muscle in his body go completely lax until he sunk into the sensation of the heat from the water and her gentle ministrations, letting it carry him away in a wave of blissful pleasure. But he had to crack an eyelid open when her open palm brushed reverently over his length, her mind growing mischievous and wanting.

“Rose, please don’t feel as though you need to—” but his eyes fluttered closed of their own volition, his lips parted to inhale deeply as she closed a hand around him and tugged. He recovered just enough to grind out, “It’s merely a byproduct of your touch, not an indicator of satiety.”

He’d been half-hoping she wouldn’t notice that seemingly insatiable member of his; he couldn’t understand how simply being touched by her could lead him to this state whether it had been five minutes or five days since their last communion. Angling his hips so they sat in her lap and pushed him above the waterline, she leaned in to nuzzle him, her tongue darting out now and then to give him tiny teasing licks. How could he accept such a favor again, so soon after their last? But oh, Astrals, he felt so _good_ floating here amongst the warm and watery stars with her mouth doing the most incredible things to him.

“Seraphic, virile, and constantly wanting more,” she said in a warm purr against his erection that seemed to shoot sparks up his spine and fog his brain. “Darling, if you wanted to do nothing else today but see how many times we could make you come, I would be _completely_ on board with that plan. It’s not a favor; it’s my pleasure, so don’t even think about telepathically returning it. Just lie back and relax.”

“While I confess I did have plans for leaving this room today, I’d be most agreeable to trying that out one day on you,” he managed to wheeze in a most undignified manner as her mouth enveloped him and suckled lazily.

_I’ll hold you to that. For now, though, I want to watch you unravel beneath my tongue. I want to see the light in your eyes as you watch me service you._

He moaned her name, deep and low, as he forced himself to open his eyes to the sight of her gazing back at him with liquid blue fire, his swollen cock slowly disappearing inch by inch into that sinful mouth of hers. Tipping his head back and grasping the sides of the tub, he allowed himself to be swept away, completely swallowed whole by sensation—the tingling heat racing over his nerves, the heady scent of peppermint in the air, her intoxicating presence in his mind as she urged him on, the roaring of his blood in his head, his pounding heart, and his breathlessness. He tensed in anticipation of the wave that was building in his belly, but she placed a soft hand on the clenched muscles of his abdomen.

_I want you to try something for me. Relax every muscle in your body. Don’t try to seek it out._

He’d always felt somewhat guilty when she did this for him, no matter how much they both reveled in it, so he’d always made an effort to finish as quickly as possible, doing his best to swallow the feeling that it was an unforgiveable transgression to come down her throat as he did. She would always be his goddess made flesh, no matter what she was to the rest of creation, and using her like this would always feel simultaneously debasing and thrilling. Still, he couldn’t believe she enjoyed it so.

Allowing himself to relax as she suggested, he found that the tightening coil inside him loosened, chasing his impending climax away but leaving the promise of delicious pleasure on the horizon. Yes, he would last a bit longer in this state, but why was she encouraging such a practice?

 _Very good,_ she cooed. _Now hold that as long as you can._

Her instructions seemed simple enough to follow, but as she continued to work him, flicking her tongue against the sensitive vein on the underside of his head and occasionally grazing her teeth lightly over his shaft as she withdrew, he found himself tensing into the oncoming pleasure and had to keep forcing himself to relax and breathe. He inhaled sharply when she added a caressing hand to the base that she couldn’t fit down her throat and another to stroke at his testicles, but after a moment of struggle, managed to make himself loosen up again against that glowing tide of heat that seemed to be roasting him from the inside out.

And then what she must have been hoping for him to experience finally happened. The overwhelming wash of pleasure surged over his every thought until he was nothing but nirvana— a wave of euphoria grabbing hold of his entire body and holding him there, right on the edge of orgasm, for what was likely only a minute but seemed to last forever.

“Rose,” he exhaled. “What are you doing to me?”

_This is all you, love. Stay relaxed. The longer you hold on, the more intense it’ll be._

But he couldn’t hold on much longer—the rush of euphoria was building like the crescendo of a symphony, and when it finally crested to the point where it felt like he would break apart, he surrendered to it. The wave crashed over him hard, forcing his back to arch up nearly out of the water and his hand to fly to his mouth to cover the shout that tore up from his throat. Even the first three aftershocks managed to force a grunt from him, compelling him to jerk his hips up farther into her mouth and reducing him to a trembling mess as she milked him dry.

She allowed his hips to settle back into the water as he relaxed again, a self-satisfied smirk gracing those lips of hers as she gently cleaned him.

“Are you all right?” he inquired, remorse coloring his thoughts for how forcefully he’d arched up as he’d come.

Her smirk widened into a genuine smile as she replied, “Come now, quit bragging.” Maneuvering to his side, she stretched herself along the length of his body in the crook of his arm and looked up at him with naked adoration. Would that look ever cease to amaze him? “I’m fine. You’re more than fine. Stop your fussing.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, even though it still felt somewhat inappropriate to do so for such a favor. Pulling her more tightly to his side, he let his lips brush along her hairline as he breathed in the scent of her shampoo over the peppermint of the bathwater. His gratitude was for so much more than her favor, even for more than her solicitude today, and she knew it.

She responded with a kind smile, bringing his fingertips to her lips. But as lovely as the prospect of lying here in the bathwater forever with her sounded, his skin was beginning to wrinkle, a sensation he despised, unfortunately, . . . and he was beginning to grow ravenous.

“I’m afraid I went a bit light for breakfast,” she said with a grimace as they stood, and she summoned a towel to dry him off before he pried the towel from her and returned the gesture. “Figured we might want to nibble our way around the town when we left the room. I’m interested in you sharing a bit of your world with me, choosing the foods and wines that catch your fancy.”

“No, that’s perfect. Perhaps we can see Lady Lunafreya’s speech, collect some local fare, and have a picnic as we tour the city by gondola?”

“Sounds like a plan. The rain should’ve passed by the time we’re ready to leave,” she said, summoning a purple t-shirt and her sleeping shorts. “You do what you like, but I’m being a lazy sod for as long as I can this morning.”

Though he styled his hair in its usual manner, Ignis decided to follow her lead and put on his blue-and-white-striped pajama bottoms and grey t-shirt before dragging the armchair and ottoman next to the window to watch the rain and read a magazine as the morning passed him by in leisure.

Laura summoned his favorite fall breakfast—and of course she would remember him telling her all those weeks ago—a warm, flaky croissant and a hot cup of coffee on a crisp, fall morning was one of the little things in life he loved. It was of no importance that it wasn’t yet autumn here in the real world; it had been last night for them.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling affectionately up at her.

“You’re welcome,” she said, leaning in to press her lips to his cheek, but he turned his head to capture them with his own instead. He felt her begin to pull away, ready to leave him alone with his breakfast as he normally preferred, but he found he didn’t want her to leave his side this morning. Tugging her down by the shoulders, he assisted her in settling herself into his side once again. Together, they nibbled on their breakfast, she sipping on her tea while he on his coffee, listening to the patter of raindrops on the sidewalk and bay outside as they both read about the latest advances in making fuel-less technology in vehicles available for everyone.

He felt her every breath, draped across him as she was, every shift of her hair, every flickering thought that passed through her mind. The peace, the domesticity of it all—he could get used to this.

On closing his eyes and leaning into the top of her head, however, thoughts of tomorrow began to leak in, tingeing their connection with red strands of worry. He’d already spent their first night in Altissia and much of the following day preparing for the rite, ensuring that everyone’s weapons were properly sharpened and in top working condition, stores of curatives and poisons were well-stocked, and Noct had created enough spells for them to use should they need them.

An appointment time for early tomorrow morning was set with the First Secretary to go over the evacuation details once again, because Ignis didn’t feel settled after the haphazard plan she’d given him at their first meeting at the estate. Though the woman was clearly well-versed in matters of diplomacy, it seemed that she lacked someone in her cabinet for stratagem. With only one waterway out of the city, it would make far more sense to stagger evacuation times throughout the morning, filling boats so that as many people were out of the city as possible before the rite began. The First Secretary, however, had only allotted a few boats to leave before the rite, scheduling the vast majority for after Leviathan was planned to appear.

“I think you’re failing to take into account that it’s still a free country, and they can’t force people onto the boats, love. Humans, by nature, can be . . . _curious_ creatures, not necessarily with a firm grasp on their own capabilities in an emergency,” she said, though he thought he could taste the alternate word she’d considered using, and he couldn’t disagree. “They’ll all want to stay and get a glimpse of the Hyrdraean, trusting in their government to save them when the time comes.”

“They would be foolish to assume it possible, if they’d heard the stories of the Empire shooting unarmed civilians in the back as they ran from Insomnia’s Citadel.”

They’d heard many heartbreaking tales about the fall of their home from passing Glaives, what few surviving Crownsguard members were left, and from the Marshal—the most disturbing of these was the reawakening of the Old Wall by a Galahdian Glaive, of all people, using the Ring of the Old Kings. No doubt the man, despite his heroism and dedication, paid for his insolence with his life. If this encounter with the Empire was to be anything like the fall of Insomnia, with innocent citizens caught in the crossfire, he shuddered to think what drastic measures the four of them would have to take while Noct was away fighting his own battle.

“We’ve done all we can to prepare for now. You have your meeting tomorrow; now we just have to ensure we’re all well-rested today in preparation,” she said, tapping at the auto magazine in his lap. “Now—cars. Tell me, is this a long-harbored secret interest of yours, or is it new?”

“Both, I suppose,” he said, allowing the change of topic to take his mind off tomorrow’s storm. “I’ve always enjoyed the sleek lines, the smell of leather, the potential for speed, but it wasn’t until I began spending so much time behind the wheel of the Regalia that I began seeking out resources.” Of course, he would have never had the time to pursue such an interest with his additional clerical duties back home, and no space to cruise his own Insignia at her admittedly prodigious top speed.

“Hmm, would you be interested in me teaching you pursuit and evasive driving strategies? Might come in handy if we end up doing much driving in the Empire. We might want to add flight school to the list too. I can’t teach you on a Magitek engine, having never been in the cockpit of one, but I can teach you basics.”

Ignis closed his eyes for a moment. Her optimism for planning ahead gave him hope for tomorrow, but how many times would the future come up today? He wasn’t accustomed to this sensation, this fear of what loomed ahead on their horizon. As often as they’d all been endangered since leaving the Crown City, he would’ve thought he’d be used to it by now, but the threat of his death or hers had never been prophesied by a Messenger before, either. He didn’t care for how out of control it made him feel—they couldn’t even _plan_ for it—and while last night’s loss of control had resulted in discovering a new side of his self-expression, he would have to take better care tomorrow to ensure it didn’t affect his judgment, lest it cause a disaster.

When he opened his eyes to her, he could see the pity tinged with her own fear—because of course she knew what he’d been thinking.

Forcing his expression to a soft smile, he said, “Yes, those both sound as though they would be prudent skills to build, given our future endeavors.”

“After the rite, then,” she said firmly—not a promise, but as much of one as she could make it.

***

“And I’m telling you that it’s absolutely necessary at _all_ times for consistency and clarity, just as in your . . . [JFK and Stalin example](https://i.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/000/946/427/5a4.jpg)!”

His voice was perhaps rising a smidgen above what was considered polite for a debate, only a decibel or two, but she was being obstinate. They had begun this discussion on the same side of the argument, but upon finding that he was in agreement, she’d switched sides, engaging him in this dispute merely to irritate him. Indeed, her smile was growing ever wider and the sparkle in her eyes deepening even as she handed him a cracker spread with sheep’s cheese and olive tapenade.

“But it saves space and keeps the reader from pausing unnecessarily,” she argued, “and there are instances where it doesn’t add clarity. ‘Those at the ceremony were the commodore, the fleet captain, the donor of the cup, Mr. Smith, and Mr. Jones’ implies that Mr. Smith is the donor of the cup, but he isn’t.”

“No it doesn’t! And even if it did, the sentence should be rewritten for greater clarity.”

He was distracted for a moment by the sight of a spinning waterwheel, kicking up a frothing whirl of white water and sending the droplets flying to catch prisms in the newly revealed afternoon sun. He could almost taste that old, almost pipe flavor of the water as the mist hit his face with the slight breeze. But he turned back to her, eager to best her in this somewhat pointless conversation.

Her smile grew sweet, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she relented. Reaching out to fix the feathering of his sideburns, she said, “All right, you’re right. I never could argue against the serial comma, anyway. I happen to completely agree.”

He reached for the crystal stem of the wine glass, which was situated in the middle of their massive picnic spread out over a rug at the front of the boat, and took a sip of the wine—bright and juicy, with a hint of vanilla and smoke as an intriguing, darker juxtaposition to the initial impression. The body was surprisingly opulent, considering its lightness. It seemed as though Lucian growing regions had nothing on Accordion and Ravettrician wine country.

Swallowing, he said, “I assumed as much, given your opening position. What I would like to know is how we managed to segue from Lady Lunafreya’s speech to the necessity of the serial comma.”

“That was all you, dear. I was more than happy discussing her commanding oratory style, but then you had to get into the horror that was speech writing for Noct.”

She was right; the conversation _had_ seemed to only deteriorate from there.

“I gotta say, Laura, when you asked for a romantic tour, this wasn’t what I was expecting. This what you guys consider romance?” Steve, their gondola guide, called to them from the back of the boat.

“Takes all kinds, mate!” she called back with a laugh. In a quieter voice, she added, “I do so love seeing you wound up—that passion of yours is so alluring to watch.”

As much as he wanted to lean in and press his lips to hers, he instead cast his eyes at the high walls of the buildings surrounding them, taking note of all the windows he couldn’t see directly into.

_Are you certain it’s safe for us to be so . . . out in the open like this?_

She had reached into her bag, pulling out a small paper-wrapped package. “Ugh, gryphon foie gras, all yours,” she said with a grimace, handing it to him, but he had no interest in eating it, snacking as they’d been for hours on this boat as they toured the city. _If Ardyn were anywhere nearby, I’d feel him._ She closed her eyes. _He’s in the city somewhere, I’m sure of it. It’s almost as though I can smell his shadow on the air, but I think he’s trying to avoid me._

Opening her eyes, she continued, _And if he’s using spies, not only would I feel their overly-interested intentions as they followed us, they would only see two people who happen to enjoy the more sophisticated aspects of life taking a meal together._

“It’s not as though the others wouldn’t enjoy this,” he pointed out.

She shrugged, saying, “Sometimes stereotypes work in our favor. You, my dear, are the very picture of casual sophistication and elegance,” she said, gesturing to his blue-and-white striped button-down and suspenders, and he felt his cheeks warm a little at the compliment, “and I can at least take on the appearance of being civilized and intelligent.”

He let his eyes roam over her—her black curls half pulled up and braided by him this morning, the way the creamy lace of her peasant top accentuated her alabaster complexion, how the matching corset around her middle emphasized her ravishing hips and bosom without appearing tawdry, and the sumptuous layers of wispy cream silk and lace that left a teasing quarter-inch of the skin around her waist bare before flowing and fluttering down to her ankles.

By all the stars in the sky, she was stunning.

“You do clean up rather well, I must say,” he said with a smirk, and she gave him a cheeky grin before snapping a suspender to his chest. “Ow,” he complained, rubbing at his pectoral even if it hadn’t truly hurt him.

“Serves you right,” she said with his favorite tongue-touched smile.

As they passed underneath a low footbridge and into a towering arched hall between two buildings, Ignis appreciated that Steve slowed the boat so he could fully take in the [impressive architecture](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/finalfantasy/images/6/66/Altissia-Canal-Gondola-FFXV.png/revision/latest?cb=20170122015140)—the high, carved columns extending from the waterline to the ceiling far above, adorned with what looked like dragon scales and depictions of Leviathan’s head spitting jets of water forty feet below into the canal next to their boat; the amber glow of the globed lamps providing a romantic, dramatic atmosphere to the darkened archway; the enormous depictions of the goddess in her serpentine form carved into the stone, standing guard over a grand shopping arcade.

“Steve,” Laura gasped, her eyes wide as she gazed up at the ornate buttresses, “you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Keep this place saved for the special fares. You can’t even get here on foot,” he said smugly. “Not a lotta people think to feed the driver on days like this.”

Ignis nodded at the statue of the winged woman standing proudly on a plinth in the center of the canal. Recalling a similar statue below the Port West Station, dedicated to the Province by the Emperor, Ignis asked, “Eos, or Leviathan?”

“Still Leviathan, I think. The wings are shorter like her serpentine form, the robes different, the expression on her face more protective. I’d expect every depiction in this city to be of the Hydraean.”

“And over there,” Steve said, pointing to a [four-masted full rigged ship](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/finalfantasy/images/0/08/Altissia-Sailing-Ship-FFXV.png/revision/latest?cb=20170122015434) moored gracefully in a side tunnel, lit dramatically from the stained-glass skylights above, “piece of our history before Magitek came to Accordo. We used to set sail with nothing but a good stretch of canvas and the wind at our backs!”

“Just imagine what it was like, Ignis: no engines, no computers . . . just the wind and the sea . . .,” Laura began, her voice growing low with awe and memory as her eyes roamed over the shining polished wood and the ship’s voluptuous curves.

“And nothing but the stars to guide you,” Ignis murmured, momentarily swept away by the romance of such a notion.

She looked up at him, stunned. “Yes, exactly.”

“Did you do much of that?”

Her voice grew far away as she looked back to the ship. “When I worked for Torchwood, keeping aliens and such a secret from Earth, these pirates once got caught in a time storm—sent them spinning from the sixteenth century to the twenty-first, right on the channel. I spent a month on board with them, integrating them into modern society.”

“With your diplomacy skills? I shudder to think,” he teased. “What happened to them?”

“Oy! I’ve got diplomacy skills! You just haven’t seen them.” _I was a Terran ambassador for about eighty years with James, once I learned to take human form, and Palomia . . .._ She shook her head. “Anyway, they ended up being the most famed attraction on the Thames—pirate themed dinner cruises three nights a week plus weekends. They were booked solid six months in advance.”

“Everything is almost normal for a moment, and then your life becomes absurd,” he said before settling back into the pile of cushions at his back, reaching for a grape, and bringing it to his lips. The grape skin popped satisfactorily between his teeth as the sweet juice filled his mouth. Yes, this sort of exploration, with every experience being an entirely new concept, an entirely thrilling adventure, especially with Rose at his side—he could most certainly get used to this. As the colors from the stained-glass skylights threw patterns of colored light over his glasses like a kaleidoscope, he sighed happily.

“What do you do in quiet moments?” he asked her as they cleared the wall of slapping, splashing water created by the spitting Leviathan jets. It was easy to see her interests as they traveled—varied as they were, they usually involved finding trouble, an adventure, a small miracle. But in their quiet moments together, he noted that she had no hobbies to speak of beyond what she did with him.

“That’s the beauty of being with someone like me,” she said, responding to his thoughts. “I enjoy the things you do. I tend to choose a hobby, learn all I can about it, master it, then move on. It’s how I end up with the most widespread hobbies: cooking, sewing, jewelry making, woodworking, baking, dancing, martial arts . . . I could go on forever. I know a fair bit about cars because I found them interesting, so I can teach you what I know. Same thing with flying, cooking, nature . . . anything that catches your interest.

“I’ve been trying to create my own sonic screwdriver without the help of the Doctor’s memories for about a century so far, and no luck yet. But my favorite activity? The Doctor would never believe it if he heard this—is reading. Sometimes I’ll read a book the slow way just to make it last longer.”

“Hey, Laura,” Steve interrupted. “We’re comin’ up on the whisper tunnel soon. You sure you still wanna be dropped off there? Forgot it was the day after Carnival.”

“Yes, please,” she called back.

“All right, but make sure you guys steer clear of the Ponte dei Pugni today. Hate to see a pretty couple like you get roughed up.”

“Don’t worry about us; we’ll be fine,” Laura replied, but there was a light in her eyes that told Ignis that the Ponte dei Pugni, whatever that was, was the very destination she had in mind.

“I suppose even asking for more information would be a fruitless endeavor,” he drawled, tilting his head at her in mock exasperation as she gathered what was left of their picnic into her bag before dismissing it to her Pocket.

“Yep!” she sang cheerfully, standing as Steve pulled up to a dock in front of another of Altissia’s hidden shopping arcades. “One of those best-kept secrets of the city—one Camelia would _love_ for a visiting dignitary, such as yourself, to get wind of. Allons-y!”

After throwing Steve enthusiastic thanks and receiving a promise that he would be on one of the earliest evacuation boats the next morning, Laura took Ignis’s hand, pulling him along the arcade for a distance before turning left into a tunnel. The place grew immediately eerie—cold and damp, darkening quickly in the light of the setting sun despite being lit with amber bulbs, arched ceilings of brick made sooty from centuries of coal burning before the advent of electricity . . . but most concerningly, the long, grand thoroughfare was completely deserted.

“Rose?” he queried quietly as his voice and their footsteps echoed ominously through the passage. As they came to an intersection, rather than answering, she pushed him into the corner of an archway— flattening him against the wall, pulling him down to her face by his sideburns, and pressing through his lips with her tongue, tasting him. Unable to help himself, he responded, brushing his thumbs against the bare skin of her hips and twining his tongue with hers.

 _No danger this time; I promise,_ she said as she abruptly pulled away and spun him around so that his nose was nearly touching the stone where two arches met. _Wait there._

She left his side then, and he turned to watch her cross the intersection so that she was standing in the corner diagonal from him. “What on Eos are we doing now, madwoman?” he asked amusedly, with perhaps the slightest trace of mock-exasperation.

“Turn around, face the wall, and find out, loon,” she said with a smile before turning to face her own corner.

He faced the intersection of the stone and started when he heard her voice come from just in front of him.

“Ignis.”

Glancing up the corner of the wall to the domed ceiling above, he said, “Auditory reflection—fascinating. How did you manage to find out about this?”

“Told the maids at the estate I was new to the city. Theresa gave me this little tidbit. Legend has it that this is where forbidden lovers met to exchange their vows of love.”

“I love you,” he whispered immediately, giddily, smiling into the corner like a fool, “utterly and completely.”

“And I love you,” she replied, her own voice just as awed and breathless. “I hope you know you make me happier than I’ve felt in thousands of years.”

He closed his eyes, allowing his head to fall forward and rest against the cool stone. “Rose,” he whispered, too touched to say anything else.

“Ignis?” she asked, and that tone in her voice—he knew exactly what she was about to say.

“Run?”

“Yes!”

He immediately spun and bounded toward her, grabbing her hand as she tugged him off to the right. He’d thought that they’d been in a basement of sorts, and perhaps they had been with the vastly dramatic differences in the city’s levels, but as they cleared the tunnel, he was surprised to find them on a bridge overlooking the lower part of the city: bright roof tiles aglow, the western sides of every building radiating the orange light of the setting sun, a thousand bell towers chiming the arrival of seven o’clock in the evening as the city lights came on and turned the skyline into hills of twinkling stars. How many times in a single day would his breath wind up stolen away from him?

“Hey! I’d turn back if I were you!” someone yelled after them as they sprinted past. The frequency of such messages increased as they neared the end of the bridge, but they grew harder to hear as the cacophony of what sounded like a thousand men yelling and screaming assaulted his senses.

 _What is this?_ he asked, dodging another protesting man and continuing to surge forward despite his better judgment. Stretching his neck to see ahead, he could make out a [massive fountain](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/finalfantasy/images/6/64/Altissia-Fountain-Artwork-FFXV.png/revision/latest?cb=20170122014613) spraying a dome of water high in the air, surrounded by hundreds of men in the middle of a brawl.

_The Ponte dei Pugni—the Bridge of Fists . . . interesting they’re stealing Italian language in a city that looks so much like Venice. But it’s tradition for the men who didn’t get laid after the Carnival to work out their aggression here. The government isn’t particularly happy about the practice, so you can imagine it doesn’t make it in the tourism guides._

_But . . . Rose. I **did**_ _. . . work off my aggression_ _yesterday evening, and twice this morning, if you’ll recall. Unless you’re implying the experience was that forgettable._

 _Hardly,_ she snorted, a flash of heat jolting through her like lightning, and he couldn’t help but smirk a little with pride at her reaction to the memories. _I want you to dance with me. I’ll take the left, you take the right, we meet in the middle on the other side?_

 _You are completely mad, woman,_ he said with a grin before letting go of her hand and leaping into the fray of flying fists, screaming lungs, and colliding bodies.

Shutting his mind off completely, he ducked, twisted, and danced his way through the crowd, only throwing punches to those who reached for him first. The density of human flesh in the raised square, more like a balcony than anything, meant that he was often jostled from all sides as he hurtled around the fountain, but his flying feet as he kicked and somersaulted his way through the wall of people ensured his safe passage. He’d thought he’d had the potential for being daring and savage when he’d left Insomnia, but he couldn’t imagine his younger self doing anything like _this_. How completely his life had transformed, how thoroughly he himself had transformed in these months!

It seemed Laura’s presence on the other side had kicked up a stir, as she was immediately set upon by at least a dozen men attempting to grab her, though Ignis believed it more likely it was in an effort to drag her foolish body out of harm’s way. While she successfully evaded nine sets of arms reaching out for her, the tenth man managed to catch her around the shoulder and swing her to him.

“Hey!” Ignis heard the man scream at her through their connection as Ignis ducked a fist and sent his own right back into the man’s abdomen. “You shouldn’t be here!” Ignis could feel the man’s fingers digging into her shoulder as he tried to drag her back in the direction they’d come from, but she dug her heels in and grinned maniacally.

“So sorry bout this, mate,” she yelled over the din, twisting out of his grip and ducking his arms. He tried to reach for her again, but she twirled to the back of him, pushing him hard enough that his knees caught the edge of the fountain before toppling in. “Gotta see a man about a dog!” She laughed like a vixen before dancing off toward Ignis, the ruffled layers of her skirt kicking up with the movement.

“You. Are. A. Menace,” Ignis said when they met on the narrow bridge on the other side, grabbing both her hands and bending over, breathless with exertion and laughter. He could feel her puffs of breathy laughter on the back of his head as she bent over him, euphoria washing through their connection and threatening to topple him over.

Taking a final deep breath, he straightened slowly and raised his eyes to the sky, wishing he could see the stars though the city lights in this moment.

“It’s time to be heading back, isn’t it?” she asked sadly.

He pulled his posture straight, putting on the suit of the Advisor once more. Though he half wanted to inform her that today had been a most enchanting dream, just as he had all those years ago, he simply said, “Yes, I believe it is.”

After all, dinner with only the two of them would feel too much like a final meal.

As they approached the door to the retinue’s suite, Ignis turned to her, pressing his lips to hers in one last chaste caress.

_Thank you for today. I hope, when this is all over, that we’ll have many more like it. But for now, are you ready to head back into the fray with me?_

_You do realize it’s just a bunch of boys behind that door, right?_ she asked in amusement, but her eyes were overly large in her face as she looked up at him.

 _As was the Bridge of Fists,_ he answered with a quirk of a smile before opening the door.

“Hey! Look who’s back!” Prompto squawked, jumping out of his chair in the parlor and bounding over to them. “You guys have fun?”

“Yes, Gladio will be pleased to hear that we did nothing of import all day,” Ignis replied with a nod.

“Good to hear it, Igs,” Gladio said, approaching them from the arch that led to the bedroom.

Ignis tilted his head at Gladio’s tight expression, his eyes noting the furrowed brow, the lips pulled down into a scowl. He tilted his head further and raised his eyebrows in a silent question, as this could only be about Noct.

 _He’s upset about something,_ Laura confirmed as Gladio’s eyes flicked over at Noct’s slumped and brooding form in the armchair opposite from the one Prompto had just vacated.

“He’s been like that all day,” Prompto whispered when he saw where their gaze had landed. “Can’t shake him out of it.”

“Hate to throw ya back into it, Ig, but we tried everything,” Gladio said, leaning toward the two of them so he could speak more quietly. “Wasn’t even really into the totomostro today. You think you could do something?”

 _Seems as though duty calls,_ he said with a wry smile to Laura.

_He’ll open up better if you’re alone. I’ll get the others out of your way._

_Indeed, thank you._

“Yeah well, we might not’ve done anything important, but he forgot to feed me dinner,” Laura said in a louder voice so as to be heard by all occupants of the room. “You guys hungry? We can go find something and bring it back.”

_You’re going to give me a bad reputation, love._

“Yeah, sure. We could do that,” Gladio said with a glance in Noct’s direction before heading to the door.

_I think your reputation will manage all right just this once._

“All right! Let’s get some chow! I’m starving!” Prompto cheered, flinging the door open and heading out into the hall.

When the door had closed, Ignis walked quietly across the room and settled into the chair next to Noct, folding his hands neatly in his lap and staring at the floor in front of him.

“Highness,” he greeted, but he didn’t say another word. No amount of cajoling would get Noct to begin talking before he was ready, so he sat back for the long wait, grateful that for once, he could hold his vigil with company in his head.  He watched as Laura led Gladio and Prompto along the very streets they had just walked and smiled to himself, still reveling in the seemingly magical day they had spent together. For all that they had experienced in the real world and their imaginary one, it still amazed him that she was able to make everything feel like an exhilarating fantasy.

 _I may be here for some time,_ he warned. _I had to sit with him for three hours once when Gladio got injured on his behalf._

_Take all the time you need. I’ll keep them out here for as long as it takes, but I don’t think it’ll be as long as you think. He’s been better about opening up to you lately._

It took only twenty minutes—a record when it came to the Prince—and Ignis was slightly embarrassed by the fact that he actually flinched a little when the first syllables issued from Noct’s mouth. He felt Laura pull back from his mind to give them privacy, and he sent her a wave of gratitude before her thread dulled in dormancy.

“She kissed me. I mean, not really, she was wearing a mask. But she _kissed_ me,” Noct rambled, his words tumbling over each other as they raced from his mouth. Even his hands were twitching in his lap in tiny gesticulations as he continued, “It’s like, I promised I’d be the King of Light, or whatever, but I didn’t really know what that meant, just went along with it because that’s what she wanted. I didn’t even realize it at the time, but it’s like she shaped my life from then on.”

Ignis could see where this was going, and frankly, it was about time. He’d wondered when the Prince would finally come to terms with the full scope of the consequences of his marriage as they were packing up his apartment to leave for Altissia. The most shocking revelation had come when Noct had confessed he hadn’t even given a thought regarding cohabitating with her.

“Then I saw the dress the other day and the speech today. I always knew she was the better of the two of us, but this proved it. She’s done so much in my name, given up her entire life for me. Six only know what she’s been through, but she’s still willing to marry _me_ —after all that. And then she kissed me,” he trailed off, shaking his head and brushing his lips with his first two fingers. “What does that even mean? It’s so much easier if I don’t think about it and let shit happen, but this just keeps coming at me. I can’t shake it.”

Ignis sat in silence for a moment, gathering the concepts of what was likely the longest unforced speech Noct had ever made, and organized his own thoughts for the best approach to advise the Prince. As he opened his mouth with a speech prepared about duty and devotion, Noct surprised him by cutting him off.

“What does it feel like to love someone, Iggy?”

Ignis’s gaze shot to Noct to see that his were eyes wide and desperate. “I—”

“Took a while, but I’m not completely blind, you know. You love Laura. How’d you know?” He leaned forward, staring at the floor, his expression still manic. “I know you don’t like talking about this stuff, and neither do I, but I need to know.”

Ignis had given Noct every iota of his own identity since he was a child; there was nothing too personal to share if Noct asked it of him. Still, he’d hoped he could guard the more intimate details regarding Laura—keep them secret in his heart. It didn’t appear that would be the case, however, if his Prince was asking this of him now. His liege needed his advisor.

Collecting all his feelings and memories from their surreal courtship, Ignis looked to the floor and began to speak in a soft voice.  

“It hurts,” he said, and Noct looked at him in surprise. “She is beautiful, inside and out, and you know that she’s a better person than you’ll ever be. But she’s willing to do anything for you, to die for you, just to see you safe. You vow to become the man she thinks she sees in you, and you rip away a piece of yourself to give to her because it’s all you can do to return the favor.

“But just when you believe you’re about to die from the agony of it all, she turns around and gives a piece of her soul right back. It’s so exquisitely beautiful that it heals you, and you know that she is treasuring your soul just as much as you are hers. You become one person inhabiting two bodies, and the world is not complete without her by your side.”

Wrung out, he chanced a glance at Noct, who was still staring at him with wide, pained eyes. “I think I might love her, Ignis,” he gasped.

Ignis smiled in sympathy, remembering what it felt like when he himself had come to that realization after coming to in a tent at the Prairie Outpost.

“That may very well be, though I recommend you find out for certain. While the risks to your heart could not be higher, I can assure you from personal experience that the rewards are beyond anything this life has to offer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Oxford commas were harmed in the writing of this chapter.
> 
> Some of the scenes for Altissia were described from concept art that was either prettier than it ended up in game or didn't make it into the game at all, so I linked them.
> 
> The Bridge of Fists, while a real place that did hold fist fights in Venice, had nothing to do with Carnival or the releasing of sexual dissatisfaction . . . probably.


	49. Chapter 49

“Remember, stay flexible. Stay alert,” Ignis advised, hoping that, should this be the very last time he saw his brother, Noct would remember him for caring about his wellbeing rather than being a nag.

“I know,” Noct sighed. “And _you_ all remember: I can take care of myself. The people can’t. No matter what happens, it’s your duty to look after the citizens first. Got it?”

While Gladio, Prompto, and Laura nodded, Ignis reluctantly said, “Yes, Highness.”

A direct order from his liege—despite how much his every instinct was screaming inside him that Noct and Lady Lunafreya would be the true focus of the Chancellor’s plans and how much he wished at least one of their group could be there to help protect them, Ignis knew that Noct’s logic was sound. Even King Regis had put the lives of citizens before his own in the end, for a king was not a king without the subjects he protected.

“Intelligence reports that the Empire has taken custody of Lady Lunafreya,” Ignis said. “They’ve escorted her to the altar to perform the rite and have the area surrounded with drop ships.”

“So you’re gonna have to sneak and fight your way in,” Gladio said. “They don’t want the King showin’ up to this party.”

Noct nodded as Prompto added, “Just be careful.”

“And call us if you need help,” Laura said, placing a hand on Noct’s shoulder. “If the infrastructure is destroyed or there are a lot of troops between us, it might take us a while to reach you from the other side of the city, so err on the side of calling us early, yeah?”

“Sure.” Noct leaned in close to Laura, and it was only through their connection that Ignis heard him say in a low voice, “Watch over them. Bring ‘em back in one piece.”

“No matter what,” she agreed.

That was the very scenario Ignis was afraid of.

Their retinue had been assigned the Deutatuo Residential District to evacuate, a strategic request on Ignis’s part, as their proximity to the boat docks would ensure additional protection of the people should the Empire decide to play dirty and attack fleeing citizens outright. As they jogged to their district and split up to cover more ground, prepared to knock on doors and assist the ill and infirm to the evacuation point, Laura spoke.

_Please don’t use the elemental bond today until you must. You were so tired that entire next day, and that headache could be fatal to you in a battle._

_I understand._

As Laura had predicted, few of the people to which he spoke, despite the use of every form of polite manipulation, diplomacy, and logical argument he could conjure, were willing to leave their homes and spend the day stranded out on the ocean or elsewhere in Ravettrice. He’d even thrown caution to the wind in some cases, citing his Lucian heritage and the stories from the fall of his own home, but his attempts at reasonable discourse were only stonewalled with religious dogma, various excuses, and irritation at the inconvenience.

_Our time would’ve been better spent assisting Noct to the altar,_ he growled in frustration as another door slammed in his face.

_That’s all about to change, I imagine,_ Laura replied. _I’m finished on my street. Met up with Prompto, and we’re headed to the docks. Grab Gladio and meet us there?_

It was as Ignis met with an equally frustrated and scowling Gladio that evidence the rite had begun first made itself known—in the form of an immense whooshing roar, as though an enormous tidal wave were gathering its resources to rage on the vulnerable city below.

“So it begins,” he heard Prompto say to Laura as they reached the docks.

**_What fool mortal dares break the slumber of the Tide?!_** a reverberating voice, deep and ancient as time, echoed through his connection with Laura, and he had to close his eyes for just a moment, shaking his head as he ran.

_Was that Leviathan? Why are we hearing her?_

Laura and Prompto were waiting for them on the dock to the far left when they arrived, ushering citizens two at a time into a bright orange, covered tender, which was bobbing and rocking furiously in the disturbed waters of the protected bay.

_Your gods don’t tend to compensate for other telepaths in the area; they just sort of shout. Be glad it’s actual words and not howling like it was with Titan. He’s not terribly eloquent at the best of times._

“Commander Ricci wants us to help load the boats until he gets reports of the Empire in the city,” Prompto told them, wrapping his hands around the elbows of an elderly woman to help her step up onto the thrashing vessel.

Laura leaned forward and spoke in an urgent voice, “And I’m pretty sure we’re about to get an influx of Altissians here in a second.”

Prompto and Gladio nodded as the four of them lined up and set to work, picking up speed in preparation for the wall of frightened people Laura could feel approaching in her mind. This sudden change of heart was too abrupt for a mere appearance of the goddess. Could it be possible that imperial troops were driving them in their direction, and the commander simply hadn’t heard news yet? Despite his frustration this afternoon, he could only hope the people weren’t being driven at the points of blades and rifles.

**_This wretched pile of bones and flesh, ignorant of that which governs All, comes to requisition the might of a goddess?_ **

Though the movements of his body didn’t slow, Ignis allowed himself to focus on the vitriolic words of the goddess as she spoke. How many others in this world besides the Oracles and the Kings had had the privilege of hearing the voices of their gods, scathing though their message apparently was? He’d heard Titan speaking aloud at the Disc of Cauthess, but as mortals were only capable of understanding the Divine Language through the mouths of the Messengers and Chosen Ones, he hadn’t understood the words not meant for ephemeral ears. This likely made Ignis the first human not among the Chosen to hear the speech of one of the Six directly. And why was that? Did Laura hear the Divine Language as Lucian in her head?

_Sort of. I have the TARDIS’s language database in my head—five billion languages, and my brain can’t help but translate as it washes over our connection._

As the sea of people began rushing into the square, some bleeding, some carrying screaming children, some possibly mortally wounded, and all panicking, Ignis realized it was only a matter of moments before MTs and soldiers rushed into the square behind the civilians, and if they came in from both sides, every Altissian citizen, along with the four of them, would be trapped.

“Slap a potion on anyone that looks like they’re not gonna make it!” Gladio bellowed out over the bedlam, but Ignis had already begun administering a potion to a man whose femoral artery appeared to have been ripped open by a passing bullet.

“We need to get to the street. They’ll be here in a minute!” Laura yelled. “Prompto, grab your gun and bring in the cat; you’re with me!”

_You take Gladio and cover the east side of the square,_ she said.

“Got it!” Prompto replied before taking a child by both hands and swinging her off the dock into a father’s awaiting arms.

**_What does a lowly, ephemeral speck know of All Creation?_ **

Fighting his way up the current of frenzied, shoving people next to Gladio reminded Ignis strongly of the Bridge of Fists from yesterday, but instead of throwing punches, he was frantically searching over the crowd for any of those grievously injured and throwing a potion in their direction before pushing forward.

_Tell Prompto to call Noct,_ he instructed her. _Tell him we’re in the middle of evacuations and that we’ll join him when we’re done. He needs to get to the altar now._

_All right._

By the time he and Gladio reached the street, armored assassins and battery soldiers were already pouring into the square, firing indiscriminately at Accordion soldiers and citizens alike. Though Ignis caught sight of several bodies dropping to the pavement under the assault, their group could no longer concentrate on administering aid. It had been made clear by the First Secretary that Accordion soldiers, trained in an occupied territory as they had been all their lives, had little skill in combat, so the abilities of their party were best served in pushing back the hordes of imperial soldiers while the Accordions took care of their own.

Gladio had already summoned his thunderbolt and was swinging wildly through any outstretched arm he could reach, removing the limbs that held rifles before bringing his steel back up into an arc and changing angles to remove heads. They both had to pause in their work, however, when they heard the whine of an engine and something approaching fast. Ignis bent low next to Gladio as what appeared to be an enormous lance passed over the street, knocking off the heads of several MTs before landing hard in the middle of the square behind them.

“What the fuck was that?!” Gladio roared.

The trajectory of the object had seemed too purposeful, too controlled as it had landed. “Must be some sort of vessel,” Ignis remarked, though he didn’t have the leisure to identify it as he ducked to the side and twisted, thrusting a plunderer through the throat of a rifleman in the sliver of gap between his armor and helm.

They just kept coming! As much as he danced and flitted his way through the narrow street with Gladio at his side, pushing back the wall of armor in front of them, Ignis couldn’t seem to manage to take more than three or four at a time, a number instantly replaced by another three or four. Fortunately, they had gained enough ground that the soldiers no longer had a clear shot of the evacuating refugees, and upon checking in with Laura, he was relieved to hear that theirs was the same status on the other side. They had bought the citizens time, at least.

**_Blasphemous ingrates, all men, quick to forget the ages their goddess stood watch!_ **

_My word, she certainly doesn’t seem to think much of those she is believed to protect, does she?_ Ignis asked.

The onslaught had begun to diminish somewhat, allowing his movements to slow as Laura’s disdain washed over him. _I wish I could be there right now to give her a tongue-lashing of my own. I hope Lunafreya gives her hell for that._

Another six MTs crashed to Ignis’s feet with a flash and a spark before Gladio lowered his sword and looked over at him. “Looks like we’re clear. You all right?”

“Yes, you?” When Gladio nodded, he said, “Laura and Prompto are just finishing on their side, and she says the area is free of Imperials for the moment. Let us meet them at the docks to check on the status of the evacuation.”

**_Yet this profane speck speaks her “King” heresies before a goddess! Insufferable sacrilege!_ **

Raised voices. Crying children. Domestic disputes. These sounds and more assaulted Ignis’s ears as he and Gladio slowly progressed their way through the crowd of impatient, anxious Accordions, offering apologies and reassurances that they were not, in fact, cutting the line. As Ignis took his place next to Laura in front of the command center, Commander Ricci stood to attention and saluted the four of them.

**_If not, then the Feeding shall begin, and it shall not end until every last speck is devoured!_ **

_Surely, she isn’t referring to us mortals?_ Ignis asked, already suspecting the answer.

_Difficult to tell without context, but my guess is ‘yes.’_

It seemed as though even their allies were potential foes in this war.

Recalling his Crownsguard training, which seemed nearly a lifetime ago, Ignis snapped to attention and returned Commander Ricci’s gesture, noting out of the corner of his eye that Laura and Gladio had also done so, with Prompto doing his best to mimic their action. Laura was the first to break the salute as she stepped forward.

“Report,” she demanded in a clipped, cold tone, and Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto exchanged a glance. They’d all known that Laura had extensive military experience as a commanding officer in formal battle operations, but watching her adopt the commander’s persona was somewhat jarring after months of seeing her cheerful, maniacal grin and happy-go-lucky attitude.

The reality that this was, in fact, their first true military operation—with assets spread throughout the city, civilians to protect, and several strategic moves being made at once—hit Ignis in that moment, making him feel young, green, inexperienced. He’d believed himself beyond such thoughts after killing his first human soldier. However, they’d grown accustomed to their little sting operations, with their atmosphere of five friends off on an epic quest together. Seeing Laura simply step in as though she were Commander Ricci’s superior officer was a sharp, shocking reminder—he and Gladio had been trained to take charge, to command. Young and inexperienced though they were, they were still higher ranked, better trained, and more experienced than Commander Ricci.

“Ma’am! We have plenty of vessels for those you see here. They’re being loaded as fast as we can move them. But reports are coming in from other districts of pockets of civilians being headed off by imperial forces. We don’t have the firepower to retrieve them.”

**_So let the covenant be forged._ **

Ignis summoned his map of the city and thrust it at the commander. “Mark the location of imperial forces, and we’ll handle them.”

**_Heaven and Earth, High and Deep, Birth and Return . . .._ **

As Commander Ricci bent over the table and began frantically scribbling over the paper, Ignis turned to the other three. “So the trial begins.”

_I dearly wish I could have been there to see what Lunafreya said to that snake to get her to agree,_ Laura said.

_No doubt she has steel in her veins, much like someone else I know. Did Leviathan just mention the planet Earth?_

_I’m beginning to believe your gods aren’t originally from this planet, but from this universe’s Earth, given the blatant language and culture theft. All of the Seven are either gods or mythical creatures in Terran lore. Where else could the source of it all come from?_

“Enough of that,” Gladio said, glancing between the two of them. “There’s no way Noct can get to the altar with the warzone goin’ on right now. Suggestions?”

“Whatever it is, it can’t involve all of us. Noct said we have to make the people a priority,” Prompto said.

Leaping onto a crate, Ignis craned his neck over the crowd to spot the craft he and Gladio had seen land in the middle of the square earlier. If Prompto could perhaps get the odd-looking mechanism running, it might just be large enough to carry two to the altar.

Taking the map from the commander and leading the group to the craft, Ignis turned to Prompto. “Do you think you can manage to get that thing working?” he asked, pointing to the device.

“On it!”

As Ignis, Laura, and Gladio cleared the lance-shaped vehicle of debris and armored body parts, Prompto mounted the side running board, fiddling with the controls. The craft’s engine roared to life as he yelled over the noise, “Oh yeah, no problem. This thing works just like Ace Pilot!”

“Then do what you gotta do to get Noct to the altar,” Gladio hollered back as the craft raised to hover in the air above their heads before speeding off.

Pressing a finger to his earpiece, Ignis spoke, “Noct, Prompto is headed your way.”

“But what about you guys?” Noct asked breathlessly.

“Still assisting with the evacuation, I’m afraid. Be careful.”

“You too,” Noct replied softly before disconnecting.

Ignis hung up his earpiece before turning to Gladio and Laura. “It appears as though the largest group of civilians is trapped on a bridge in Pacente Park District. Let us make haste.”

The three of them raced through the city streets as fast as they could manage, dodging the chunks of plaster and masonry that fell from shot-up and bombed out buildings onto the cluttered streets below, diving for cover when ordnances that had fallen earlier finally exploded to send shrapnel and fire hurtling through the air, and directing any civilians they came across to the evacuation point.

“Just keep heading away from the sound of gunfire!” Gladio called back to a group of three young men, pointing in the direction of the docks.

“But what about you guys?” one of the men yelled back in their direction.

Though they didn’t pause to exchange any pointless dialogue, Laura yelled back behind her, “We’ll be heading _toward_ the gunfire.”

Ignis continued to run alongside the others as they passed through the Arcaleo District without meeting any more troops or civilians, but the evidence of battle was obvious in the destruction of the architecture and the bodies left to lie dead in the streets. Had the Empire committed its full force to this venture that they had so many soldiers to spare to attack the innocent? How had he managed to miss evidence of such destruction in the seemingly short amount of time they’d fought to defend the square? He and Laura had only traversed these very streets yesterday, full of life and color and love. And yet within the span of a couple of hours, the entire city seemed to have been under siege, judging by the columns of black smoke rising in the air from every block Ignis could see, transforming the formerly romantic scene into a war zone.

They were fighting to get the Crystal back, to save humanity. Why on Eos would any human take up arms against them, against their fellow, unarmed man?

_Because propaganda is cunning, and Lucis wasn’t as innocent-looking from other perspectives as it was from yours,_ Laura said darkly.

Though he hadn’t believed them to be at the time, Ignis realized now that they’d been sheltered, ensconced in the Citadel and the wealthy districts as they’d been. The senior administration had obviously kept many pieces of intelligence from reaching the ears of the junior administration, much to Ignis’s frustration. It had only been upon leaving the walls of Insomnia and speaking to other citizens of Lucis that Ignis had begun to understand that outlanders viewed their Crown City in a most unfavorable light, that Insomnian citizens and even members of the Crownsguard had been unaccepting of those Glaives from outside the city—almost to the point of being xenophobic. He supposed the banning of additional refugees entering the city thirty years ago, followed by the relinquishment of the outlands to the Empire proposed in the fake treaty, would hardly endear the Royal Family to the people, especially to those outlander Glaives serving the Crown. It seemed only Gladio had been unsurprised at hearing the broad concepts of these tales, but even he had been shocked to learn of the depth of the mistreatment and resulting resentment.

Could this entire war have been averted with more open, honest communication and acceptance? Why had the King allowed such an attitude to flourish?

The mechanical whirring of Magitek armor and the percussive rhythm of bullets was growing louder as they approached the bridge marked on their map, but Laura was able to reply before they reached it. _Regis was also kept mostly in the dark, likely by a high-ranking commander or someone similar who ended up betraying him. But as much as I cared for him, he wasn’t completely above reproach in this. Remember that your own treatment as a child was also overlooked._

While her words rang true, his situation had been entirely different. He’d been one boy, a servant, hardly worth the King taking note of. And though he’d been subjected to a similar attitude the Glaives had been, if for different reasons, he certainly had never blamed His Majesty for his upbringing.

_Ignis,_ she sighed in a frustrated tone, disagreement flooding their connection.

 A buzz in his ear sounded, and Ignis signaled for the others to stop so he could take the incoming message before they approached the enemy. “Prompto,” he greeted.

“Got Noct dropped off with Leviathan. What’s your location?”

“We got a situation on the only bridge leading to Pacente Park. Could use a little help over here!” Gladio said into his own earpiece.

“On my way!”

Approaching the bridge, the three of them found themselves staring at the backs of three Magitek armors and an entire host of soldiers and MTs—with all their considerable firepower focused on the multi-leveled, covered bridge in front of them.

“There are at least thirty people trapped on that bridge,” Laura said, looking up at him.

As Ignis squinted into the dark tunnel, he could just make out the silhouettes of adults crouching over children and people using their bodies to shield loved ones from the hopeless onslaught of bullets raining down on them. They’d have easily been slaughtered by now if it weren’t for the fact that the Empire seemed intent on toying with them instead of simply storming the bridge.

What kind of people would dare pin down and attack families in such a manner? What sort of commander would order MTs to do so? Between the stories told of the fall of Insomnia and the skirmishes in the outlands he’d heard in royal briefings, Ignis had heard plenty about the Empire’s ruthlessness toward civilians and Glaives alike. But he’d always been spared these more personal, devastating aspects of war—what happened to the innocent in times such as these—in those casual encounters in the street and the cold, clinical meetings.

If those people huddled on the bridge were innocents, what did that make him?

A predator. A protector.

A lance of anger, the need to defend, shot through him, setting fire to his blood and calling him to action as he brought his daggers to his hands and infused them with lightning. Glaring down at Laura, he silently dared her to say something about his gratuitous use of power, but the look she gave him in return was equally as fierce as she summoned her falchions.

“Gladio and I have the best weapons for the armor,” he raised his voice above the mass of gunshots. “Laura, take out the soldiers, and draw their fire from us and the citizens.”

Gladio nodded before summoning his sword and leaping at the back of the nearest armor. Ignis managed to catch a glimpse of Laura spreading a palm out to send blue arcs of lighting to the most concentrated area of soldiers before he, too, leapt high into the air to land on the body of one of the two remaining armors.

No amount of dancing could shield Ignis from the barrage of bullets and rockets that whipped across the street in front of the bridge, but they had at least managed to draw the Empire’s attention away from the citizens to themselves the moment they’d begun swinging their blades. The sensation of liquid fire and blood burning across his limbs had become well-familiar to him by now, as many times as he’d been shot since leaving Insomnia, but he was grateful, at least, for the reduced frequency as he pulled out yet another potion to crack over himself when the pain became too great for him to bear lifting his weapons. He noted that even Gladio had to pause in his assault to administer his own first aid several times as Ignis flitted around the legs of his armor.

The disorientation from movement faster than ordinary man was meant to tolerate was beginning to make his head spin. Gladio had switched targets to assist him in taking down his armor, and they had just restarted their attack on Gladio’s when Laura contacted him.

_I’ve finished with the soldiers. If you could turn the armors away from the entrance to the bridge, I can get the people out and moving to the docks._

Catching Gladio’s attention as they circled the armors, he eschewed speaking, as the exploding rockets rocking the street in thunderous explosions made communication impossible. Instead, he used hand-gestures for them to take a position closer to the water so that their enemy would turn in that direction to attack the greater threat.

“You’re mine!” he growled as he brought fire to his blades, driving both of them deep into the leg joint of the armor he was working on. It collapsed onto a knee, rendered temporarily immobile as the pilot attempted to recover functionality.

“Good goin’, Ig,” he thought he heard Gladio call out over the crashing.

_The evacuees made it to the docks,_ Laura said after some time had passed. _I’m coming back._

Though the buzz in his ear was hardly a welcome one when it came, busy as he was, he still pressed a finger to the button, and he noticed Gladio do the same from the corner of his eye. He could just make out the words of the tinny voice in his ear as Prompto screamed, “Iggy! Gladio! Move!”

Ignis looked up to see a flash of Prompto’s bizarre imperial craft on a collision course with both the armors they were fighting, so he reached for Gladio’s shoulder and shoved him behind a pile of rubble to take cover. Even from behind the wall of crumbled concrete that protected them, Ignis could feel the heat of the explosion, the wall of vibration that shook the square as the blast washed over them. Shards of concrete and armor parts rained from the sky, and Gladio and Ignis huddled together, covering their heads in case something larger than a gil happened to land on them. Another several rounds of detonations indicated that the armors’ remaining missiles had exploded in the heat from the fires.

_Prompto!_ he called out to Laura, hoping she was close enough to feel the state of Prompto’s mind. _Is Prompto all right?_ He stood, reeling and coughing for a moment, before attempting to squint through the smoke and fire for a glimpse of his friend.

_He’s all right,_ came Laura’s voice, and he let out a relieved breath. _We’re together._ _Meet us at the bridge to the Arcaleo District._

Ignis looked down at Gladio, wondering why he hadn’t stood yet, but the blood seeping from his ear as he continued to crouch behind the debris implied that his eardrum had likely burst from the percussion, and he hadn’t been able to hear that the chaos had ceased. Ignis summoned a potion, gently cracking it over Gladio’s head before pulling him up by the hand.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Am now. Thanks, Iggy.”

After swaying for a moment and regaining his balance, Gladio’s somber brown eyes locked on his as he said in a low voice, “So, this is war. I thought I knew . . ..”

“I know,” he replied with a nod, leading him in Laura’s and Prompto’s direction, “but there’s no time. Laura and Prompto are meeting us at the bridge this way.”

“What I wouldn’t give to have you all in my head like that right now—to know you’re all safe.”

“Yes, and I as well,” he replied, thinking longingly of Noct. “It certainly has its advantages with Laura. However, I believe the romantic nature of the contact would make things more than a little awkward for all of us, if such a thing were even possible.”

_Ignis, you and Gladio hold on to something solid! That lamppost, there. Now!_

“Gladio, quickly, hold on to that lamppost!” he ordered, not taking the time to question Laura’s instruction as he grabbed for an identical lamppost on the opposite side of the street.

Their view of the ocean was blocked, surrounded by the tall buildings as they were, but as Ignis raised his eyes to the sky, his heart dropped to his feet. There no longer _was_ a sky, only a swirling vortex of ocean water rising impossibly high above their heads, blocking out the light of the sun. Tables, chairs, chunks of masonry, even entire floors of buildings floated surreally in the air as the wind picked up, beginning to pull his feet from underneath him and attempting to suck him from the somewhat sheltered street. He heaved a labored step forward, desperately wrapping his legs around the pole to keep the wind from dragging him off. Looking to the main street at the end of the block, he could see more debris whipping out violently toward the water, and he was thankful that this area between the two buildings was uncluttered before . . . whatever this was had begun. As he hugged the metal pole more tightly, he cast a glance in Gladio’s direction to see that he was safely clinging to his pole on the other side of the street.

_Gladio and I are all right. Are you both safe? What’s happening?_

_Yes, Prompto and I are safe as well. It’s Leviathan,_ she spat. _Part of her **trial**. _

_We can’t do a thing until this suction lets up. What of the citizens?_

The roar of a screaming Magitek engine fighting the buffeting winds eclipsed that of even the swirling tides as a shadow passed overhead.

_There’s nothing we can do. Anyone not already out of the city or inside a building right now is lost. And we’ve another problem._

As Ignis raised his eyes to the sky, using the post to block the wind from ripping his glasses from his face, the Magitek engine he’d heard passed over the gap between buildings. He hadn’t gotten a lingering look at the craft, but he didn’t need one to recognize it, as he’d relived his time spent on board several times since last he’d seen it.

_I just saw the Chancellor’s ship. It was headed toward the altar,_ he said, doing his best to keep the alarm from his tone.

_Yes, our other problem. Ardyn was onboard._

Fear gripped him as he continued to hold on for dear life, not for him or his plight, but for Noct. Was he safe? Had he managed to survive the suction? What were the Chancellor’s aims for him?

_Can you feel Noct?_ he asked, knowing that she would be unlikely to feel Lady Lunafreya’s mind from this distance, as unfamiliar as she was with the woman.

_I can’t tell,_ she said after several tense moments, her tone frustrated. _There’s so much power radiating from that area, it’s like a seething storm. Judging by the roaring, I would guess Noct is still fighting Leviathan._

Despite his loathing of this inaction, he held on and waited, for there was absolutely nothing else he could do but exchange looks with Gladio across the deserted street at every roar, every explosion, every unidentified splash, tremor, and ear-splitting boom—until everything went suddenly still.

The tranquility lasted for only a second before the explosions and roaring picked back up again, but Ignis found he was able to release the lamppost as he gratefully shook the tingling needles from his arms and legs before looking to Gladio and urging him towards the bridge, only a half a block away.

He caught sight of Prompto first, appearing shaken but otherwise unharmed. As Prompto stepped aside to reveal Laura sitting on a concrete bench, however, he noted the four pearlescent stripes across her arm and ribs with some concern.

_You’ve been hurt._

_Couple of days, I’ll be all right._ _How’s your head?_

The elemental power—he’d forgotten in the commotion. _I’m running on so much adrenaline right now that I can’t even feel it._

Her brow pulled down sharply, worry coloring her mind, but she thankfully didn’t say anything more on the matter.

“How in Ifrit’s fresh hell did you survive that shit, Prompto?” Gladio crowed, slapping Prompto on the back.

Prompto beamed at them, playing out the scenario with his hands as he said, “Set it on a collision course and jumped off before I hit. I knew there was no way I’d make it if I stayed on.”

“Most excellent strategic planning, Prompto,” Ignis complimented. Prompto’s smile widened, but Ignis immediately turned to the side, pressing his finger against his earpiece.

“Noct, do you read me?” he queried, but there was no answer. His eyes darting up to Laura, he saw that she had a finger to her lips and her eyes closed.

“I think I can feel him. He’s too far away for me to get any kind of read on him, but he’s alive.”

“The trial should be over by now, right?” Gladio asked.

“I can’t tell a bloody thing from here!” Ignis growled in frustration. “Let’s make for the altar. We can clear the districts as we make our way to ensure the remaining civilians’ safety.”

It was difficult to tell which explosions to pay attention to, which tremors sending vibrations up his bones were significant enough to be concerned about, as the city continued to withstand whatever battering it was receiving beyond their view, but as the roar and whine of a ship grew loud enough to push out his frantic thoughts, Ignis had just enough time to register Gladio’s, “Look out!” before Laura leapt at him.

Something hit the side of his head hard, and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So these events obviously take place in the main game in Chapter 9 as Noct is fighting his way through the palace, jumping on the weird ship with Prompto, and basically everything leading up to Episode Ignis.
> 
> I decided to dispense with the “get the harpoons off the goddess” plot mentioned in the main game. Unless I am missing something in the playthroughs, the creators themselves seemed to have abandoned it. The whole point of their running around the city, from a writer’s standpoint, is to keep them from the altar until their specific times, so having them in the bay right next to it is an issue. They promised they would help Accordo with evacuations anyway, so I don’t see why it was even brought up.
> 
> Since this is going to be important information for the climactic part of the battle, Ignis states in the main game in Chapter 11 that as the Hydraean raged, the last thing he remembered seeing before falling unconscious was the Chancellor’s ship headed for the altar. As SE didn’t even know at the time that scene was created what had happened on Ignis’s side of the battle, I am going to assume here that he wasn’t lying to Noct.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Violence and character death.

Power. Lunafreya had never asked for it, but she’d had the privilege of being born with an abundance of it. It came at a cost, however, as power always did. From the very moment of her ascension after the death of her mother, her life had no longer been her own. She and her abilities belonged to the people—to ease their suffering in this blighted world and speak to the mortal on behalf of the divine, a calling she’d been only too honored to undertake.

It wasn’t common knowledge that the magic of the Fleuret family was not derived of their Oracle lineage, just as it wasn’t common knowledge that the position of Oracle wasn’t necessarily a hereditary title at all. The only reason Oracles had predominantly been chosen from her family, with a few exceptions, was because of the magic of the gods House Fleuret been blessed with—from the founding member of their line onward.

Sylva Via Fleuret, may the gods rest her soul, had been gifted with the power of the Inferno and the healing power of the Blessed Star of Light and Life, abilities that had not only allowed her to cleanse the soil and sky of blight and heal Noctis on that fateful day the Empire invaded, but had also enabled her to step between Ravus and General Glauca’s fires of war without injury. Would that she had been just as immune to his steel. Perhaps then Ravus wouldn’t have been lost to a slower, more insidious destruction—his lust for power and revenge.  

Ravus, too, had been gifted with the magic of the gods that was so very distinct to the Fleuret line—the Power of Earth (a curious appellation derived from the Archaean), lending to his prodigious strength, and the Power of the Storm. Perhaps his lust for power had begun not with the assassination of their mother, but when the Power of the Blessed Star had skipped over him to be inherited by Lunafreya, ensuring that she would be the ascending ruler of Tenebrae and act as the mouthpiece for the divine—not him. Their mother’s death had merely spurred him in that direction, much to Lunafreya’s heartbreak, driving him to turn on Lucis and betray their mother’s memory.

She’d let go of King Regis’s hand that day because she’d known even as a girl that not only did her people need her, Ravus needed her. But despite all her attempts to coax him back to the light, she’d had to watch as the intervening twelve years changed him—bound by the past and lost in the power granted to him by the very same commanders that had slaughtered Sylva Via Fleuret. He’d become a coward—unable to face that it hadn’t been King Regis to murder her, but those who had made him their lapdog. Perhaps his explanation for events had been easier for him to face than the truth.

Lunafreya would have thought that the history of their family would have taught him: True power was not found by those who sought it. It was something that came to those who deserved it.

He’d been fortunate not to have been consumed by the very power he’d sought when he’d put on the Ring of the Lucii. Instead, the experience seemed to have finally set him on the path of acceptance and redemption. Lunafreya herself had taken the long and difficult road that had been her duty, but when her foolish mortal body had begun to break down, she’d known that his newfound humility would hold him fast to House Fleuret’s sworn duty to House Caelum. She could finally trust him to do the right thing and see the Ring to Noctis when she was unable to.

Only, he’d refused.

He’d been right to do so, proving, at least to her, that he had found his peace at last. In that moment of human frailty, she’d believed her ephemeral body lacked the strength to fulfill her destiny. But his words had bolstered her will, her determination to see this through.

Of course, the time for that strength had now run out.

When her status had been elevated from Oracle to Chosen Oracle, Lunafreya had known that the position would take her life when the time came to forge the covenants so that Noctis could banish the Darkness. This most recent pact with the Hydraean had left her reeling and weak, no matter how much she fought against the vertigo that had increasingly threatened to topple her over. The battering she’d received from the goddess as a test of her faith hadn’t exactly soothed the pains of her mortal shell, either.

But though she’d always known her calling would end her life, she hadn’t expected it to be at the blade of the very darkness that would one day be responsible for taking Noctis’s life. It was poetic, in a way—a just punishment for having kept his fate secret all these years. But foreknowledge was the price the Chosen Oracle had to pay in order to know when to begin awakening the Six, to know when to set the prophecy in motion.

Her skin and muscle seemed to wrap around the blade as it thrust into her gut, welcoming the intrusion and holding it there for several moments as though it were a long-awaited visit from an old friend. Lunafreya couldn’t stifle the grunt from the force of the thrust, taken by surprise as she’d been from Ardyn’s swift strike. But the pain that spread out in blossoming tendrils like the blood seeping over the white silk of her dress was certainly familiar to her, mishandled as often as she’d been as a child, and would certainly garner no tears from her.

“I will pass the Ring to the _rightful_ King,” she managed as calmly as she could, holding a hand to her belly to stem the tide of blood gushing from the wound. Her end might have been inevitable here at the hands of Ardyn Lucis Caelum Izunia, but there were still duties to perform before she could rest.

His hand whipped out, grasping her chin as those heartless eyes arrested hers. Even clouding as her vision was, she could see the darkness swirling in their tawny depths, but she felt no fear. What did she have left to lose, after all? Looking deeper, she thought she could discern the smallest spark of good in him, still lying dormant beneath all that suffering had heaped upon him. After all, he, too had been given the Power of the Blessed Star and had once used it to clear the scourge even more effectively than she. Lunafreya could have just as easily been the one in his position had she been born two thousand years’ previous.

So much pain, such great suffering—and not only from him, but all over Eos. She’d toiled so very long and hard to erase her own identity, to become the vessel for hope and healing as was requested of her by the gods. She would not betray that calling, not even in her last moments, not even for the man that had taken her life. Even her healing power wasn’t enough to dispel the darkness roiling within him, but if she could just alleviate his suffering for a mere moment, give him the gift of remembering the man he’d once been, she would have remained true to herself in these final moments.

Lunafreya wrapped her fingers gently around his wrist, calling forth the power of the Blessed Star, and he released her chin immediately in response to the golden glow emanating from her. Ardyn’s hand seemed to soften, even if the malicious light in his eyes and smile remained as she looked up at him.

“When the prophecy is fulfilled, all in thrall to darkness shall know peace,” she promised, because even he, one day, would be able to find rest from this torment.

At her words, the smug satisfaction melted from his face, his expression growing wistful, thoughtful, fathomless. That softness only lasted a moment, however, before his eyes grew hard and his lips turned down into a scowl. Snatching his hand away, he brought it around to backhand her hard as she collapsed onto the stone, the pain in her abdomen seeming to make way for the pain radiating from her cheek for a few seconds before taking over again.

The familiar roar of a Magitek engine grew close behind her, along with the creaking that could only be the cargo doors opening, as Ardyn stood and sauntered in the aircraft’s direction.

“How sweet . . .,” he simpered with a dramatic bow, “but please, Lady Lunafreya, you first.”

It wasn’t until he’d gone that Lunafreya looked to Noctis, floating on the wreckage of what was once a building in the middle of the bay several yards away. He needed her help; Leviathan’s great open jaws hovered over his prone form as though she were about to swallow him whole, and given the fight Lunafreya had had to put up to forge the covenant in the first place, it wasn’t completely unlikely that the goddess wouldn’t eat him alive. Lunafreya knew from experience that the gods’ trials tested the faith of even the strongest of men, but she was no man. Her faith, her faith in Noct and his ability to prove himself a worthy king, could move mountains. He’d promised her, after all, that he would never let her down, and it was his word along with the bond that they’d forged over the last twelve years that allowed her to stand up to gods and daemons alike.

Leaning on her trident, she summoned that magic of the gods, the Power of the Star, sending it shooting into the atmosphere above. It was a call to arms, one that the twelve Old Kings could not ignore. She could feel the golden power of their souls join with Noctis as her own trident shimmered and disappeared into his armiger. Bereft of support, she collapsed once more to the ground.

She rolled over onto her back, watching as Noctis rose into the air and summoned his Royal Armiger, pouring every last iota of his strength and the power of his ancestors into a renewed attack on Leviathan. He was so full of _goodness_ , fighting as he was to save his fellow man. It was that goodness, that light she saw in his heart, that shone a beacon on the goodness in all the hearts of men. She had seen it reflected in every pair of eyes of those she’d healed since she’d ascended.

This world would _not_ , could not fall to darkness so long as there existed a single spark of her consciousness—whether she resided in the mortal realm or the beyond. It mattered not that her ephemeral shell was failing, she would continue to fight alongside him for the future of the people she loved—her brother, Tenebrae, the world. That light of goodness would endure long after she and Noctis had departed this realm as a testament to their love and devotion for each other and all of humanity.

Noctis drew her trident above his shoulder and flung it at Leviathan’s throat, catching the handle as the points dug deep into the goddess’s scales. Freefalling down the great serpent’s neck and dragging the weapon along with him, he rent a massive tear in her flesh, spraying her watery ichor in every direction as she threw her head back with a thunderous roar.

“It’s done,” she heard him whisper as he came to a gentle landing on his back beside her.

But as the power released him, he lost his grip on consciousness, his expression growing pale and slack. It must have drained too much from him—a feeling she was well-familiar with—and his mortal body must not have had enough energy to keep his heart beating.

Dragging her failing form to his, she was finally able to look on his face free of their masks . . . after all this time. Despite how difficult these intervening years must have been for him, he was still beautifully soft—his large almond-shaped eyes, which she knew from the masquerade still shone a brighter blue than the sky on even the most glorious of days; his angled chin and jaw; those perfect lips that had always been a bit chewed and chapped, even when he’d been younger.

All these twelve long years, she’d wanted nothing more than to see him again, but wherever she’d gone, the Empire had followed. It had been her duty to protect Noctis, just as it had been her duty to sacrifice herself to restore the Light, so she’d eschewed her foolish fantasies in favor of keeping him alive, choosing instead to send her soul along in a book.

Their laughter together as children was the last time she’d laughed—the last time she’d known what joy felt like. As her calling in this realm had been fulfilled before she could truly meet up with him again, it seemed as though those few moments would be the only ones she could look back on when she brought them with her to the beyond. Perhaps, before her soul was dragged into the Crystal, she could visit him one last time before they were reunited.

There was one final duty to perform for him—her honor. She may have never asked for this power, but Lunafreya Nox Fleuret was certainly going to use it to save those she loved, to save him. As much as she wanted to press her lips to his, it would have been wrong to do so while he was unconscious, so she settled for pressing their foreheads together as she began to chant.

“Blessed Stars of Light and Life . . ..”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know several will be unhappy at this, but I truly believe the ending Noct and Luna get is the happiest possible one for them, despite the pain they suffer. I'm not completely finished with them just yet.
> 
> The whole Power of the Inferno, Power of the Storm, Power of the Blessed Star was me attempting to explain the powers of House Fleuret as shown in the game and movie and weaving it into my own lore.
> 
> I spent a lot of time deciding whether or not Lunafreya knew about everything, and judging by what she said to Ardyn after she was stabbed, it was enough to tip the scales for me. I decided she most certainly did, so there you go.


	51. Chapter 51

A spark in his brain, soft lips against his—he knew those lips. Had he fallen asleep on her? How terribly rude of him, but he wasn’t well; it felt as though something heavy was lying across his chest, paralyzing his lungs and burning them with an aching fire.

_Breathe, love. I need you to breathe!_

Air across his tongue, an increasing pressure, and his eyes shot open wide in awareness. Though he tried to suck in a deep breath, whatever phantom weight that was pinning him down was also preventing him from taking in air, so he rolled to the side in an effort to push it off him as Laura slapped him hard on the back. Finally, instinct seemed to kick in, and his gut heaved up as though he were about to vomit his very viscera. But it was his lungs that benefitted from the action as water spewed up from his throat, setting his trachea on fire and filling his nose and mouth with a fetid, metallic aroma. The very moment he’d purged all he could, he sucked in a deep, desperate breath, his diaphragm clenching with the effort as he coughed on the black-and-white tile floor of what was apparently an abandoned water-level café.

“Oh, thank the stars,” he heard Laura exclaim on an exhale behind him.

Shaking, a little dizzy, but breathing, at least, he pushed himself up to a sitting position and assessed his condition. When had he managed to get wet? He thought he could recall rolling along the floor of the bridge for a moment after Laura had leapt at him, but nothing after that.

His jacket was weighing him down, making it even more difficult to breathe, and his gloves were wrinkling his fingertips, so he removed and dismissed them as he asked, _What happened? Are Prompto and Gladio all right?_

“The bridge collapsed and we fell, but Gladio and Prompto were safe on the other side. They’re heading toward the altar now, but I’m feeling pockets of civilians coming out of their hiding places along with waves of imperial troops landing. They’re about to be busy.”

She had come to kneel in front of him by the end of her report, her own jacket removed and the tendrils of hair around her face dripping onto his wet trousers. Ignis reached out with gentle fingers as she kneeled, grazing his fingertips just below one of the purple and opal gashes on her arms. There weren’t bullets inside the wounds, at least, from their appearance, but it seemed their troubles were only just beginning. How many more times would she be shot today?

Placing a cool hand at the back of his neck, she tilted her head and looked inward for a moment. _I think your lungs are okay. Can you stand?_

 _I believe so,_ he replied, and she stood to help him to his feet. The world seemed to spin for a moment as she held him steady, but he was already pressing a finger to his ear.

 _Is that going to work?_ she asked.

_We’re about to find out. It was claimed to be water resistant._

A crackling static made him rethink his assessment, until he heard Prompto’s muffled, relieved voice in his ear, “Iggy! We thought you were a goner. Laura make it too?”

“Yes, yes, we’re both quite all right,” he managed in a smooth voice, and he was surprised at its evenness, given how badly his throat was still burning. “It’ll take more than a little seawater. I’m more worried about Noct. We’ll find a way to the altar while the both of you assist any remaining citizens and keep the enemy distracted.”

“You got it,” Gladio said.

“Be careful,” Ignis added. “Laura’s intel indicates we’re all about to be overrun.”

“No prob,” Prompto said. “Thanks for the heads up!”

His expression growing hard with determination, he looked over at Laura and nodded. “Let’s go. We need to find a better vantage point if we’re to assess the situation.”

 ***

Ignis eyed the sweeping current that rushed beneath the remaining portion of the Eastern Bridge, which jutted out just over the canal that was keeping them from leaving the Tigiano District—and the most direct path to the altar. Even if they could safely swim across, the walls on the other side were too high for them to scale.

“He’s still alive, love,” Laura reassured him, placing a hand on his arm. “And you saw yourself that he has Titan fighting on his behalf.”

And while he clung to that one great hope, there were still so many facts he’d tallied up over the last hour of racing through the ruined city streets and cutting down squads of MTs with reckless abandon. Despite his best efforts to remain calm and rational, those facts were bubbling up in his chest and threatening to choke him: the great column of golden power they’d seen rising from the altar like a beacon, that Noct still hadn’t answered his calls, and most disturbingly—that the Chancellor had certainly visited and left the altar.

Still, with their path cut off from them, there was nothing they could do but turn back. Touching her elbow for some small measure of comfort as well as to lead her back, Ignis strode toward the arch at the end of the bridge, but his breath caught in his throat as Laura shoved him into the corner of the supporting pillar right as they were about to reach the street again.

 _Ravus . . . and I think Caligo._  

Ignis nodded, placing his hands on her shoulders and gently reversing their places, pressing her up against the corner as he slowly peered around the pillar to catch sight of the source of the footsteps he was just beginning to hear echoing in the open square just beyond the bridge.

“Have you located the Ring yet, Commander? And what of Lunafreya?” the High Commander asked.

Caligo strutted awkwardly behind Ravus, who was striding toward an awaiting Magitek engine hovering over the bay. “Both, High Commander, but our forces are unable to extract either at present. We’ve no way of approaching the altar so long as the Archaean stands in our way.”

Ignis allowed himself a silent, cleansing breath. At least they weren’t the only ones being prevented from approaching the altar, so Noct and Lady Lunafreya’s safety couldn’t be compromised any further than it already had been.

The High Commander had slowed, staring out at the open water where Titan stood knee-deep, beating back Magitek engines with his massive fists and sending them hurtling into the water and city streets without regards to allies nor enemies below. Much of the area just beyond the Tigiano District had been leveled by the ships-turned-wrecking-balls, and the source of much of the black smoke floating on the air and choking them all was a pile of exploded ships setting much of the Pitra District ablaze.

“Even the gods are on his side,” the High Commander sneered, but then he sighed, seemingly changing his mind about the Magitek engine as he turned and began walking in the opposite direction. “Neither the King nor the Oracle will escape with their lives if the fighting continues. Order a full retreat. I’m going in alone.”

“B—but Sir!” Caligo protested, and Ravus whirled on him.

“I assume you are already familiar with how I got this arm?” he asked in irritation and impatience, holding his Magitek prosthetic out in Caligo’s face.

“. . . Yes, Sir.”

“Then you must also know the Ring is worthless without one who can wield it,” he barked, turning back and walking away.

Had Lord Ravus just implied that he had lost his arm to the Ring? Had he attempted to use it during the invasion? It would seem that the price for putting on the Ring, even if one’s intentions weren’t altruistic, wasn’t necessarily death, but then, Ignis supposed that the High Commander technically _was_ of royal blood, as often as the Fleuret and Caelum families had crossed over the centuries. Perhaps his stay of execution had been for that reason alone.

As Caligo’s engine pulled away, Ignis looked down at Laura before stepping out from behind the pillar and into the street.

“Time is of the essence. We must make haste.” It was likely that Lord Ravus was heading on the same route he and Laura had just been about to take—the only other bridge over the canal that they hadn’t personally seen collapse. If they followed discreetly at a distance, it was possible the High Commander would clear their path ahead of them.

“I’m afraid haste is going to be an issue,” she said in a small voice, and he looked back at her to see that her eyes were faraway and blank. “We’ve got incoming. A _lot_ incoming.”

He could hear them now, their metallic boots clanking against the paving stones of the courtyard, even over the blasts still sending chunks of what was left of the city into the sea. In this concentration, he could taste the scourge on the air emanating from the MTs as they approached from each sidewalk, each side street.

They were trapped.

Ignis stepped between Laura and the platoon—summoning and crushing a flask of lightning between his palms, calling forth his daggers, imbuing them with the overclocked lightning, and spreading his stance wide to protect her before the shooting began. His mortal body might have been less sturdy than hers, but he was able to take a potion for his injuries—whereas each laser blast or bullet was an injury she couldn’t instantly recover from.

His gesture was short-lived, however, as he heard the familiar roar of Magitek engines coming in for a landing behind him on the ocean side. Chancing a quick glance through Laura’s eyes, he counted the landing of three MA Pisces and another platoon of soldiers as he felt her back brush against his.

 _Don’t forget electra-kitty,_ she said, summoning her falchions.

_Is it really that difficult to remember the name ‘coeurl’?_

_No. Are you really more interested in the fact that I enjoy calling them electra-kitties than the general what-the-fuckery that is the Empire dropping coeurls off in the middle of a full-scale battle?_

_I suppose you **do** rather have a point. _

Had it not been for the backdrop of the Archaean pounding the massive airships in the distance, the courtyard would have been silent as both parties stared at one another across the paving stones, waiting for the opposition to make the first move. There was no doubt that they were vastly outnumbered, absurdly so. Was this the moment Ignis had feared? Dying by her side wouldn’t be so awful, he supposed, now that they were here, but he would’ve liked to have ensured Noct’s safety beforehand.

“Ignis?”

He admired her composure in this moment. Her voice was completely steady as she said his name, so gently. How many days had she had like this, where she was nearly certain that someone would die, and he’d simply been unaware? His admiration for her grew as he steeled his resolve.

“Yes, Rose?”

Turning his head slowly to the side, never taking his eyes off the waiting soldiers and MTs in front of him, he could barely make out her profile over his shoulder from the side of his eye, but he could feel her—cheeky and impish and bubbling with love in his mind. Perhaps there was more hope for this battle than he’d originally believed.

“Dance with me.”

Setting his hard eyes back on the enemy, he grinned ferally. With her by his side, they would do more than dance; they would _fly_.

“It would be my pleasure,” he said with relish.

As he flashed through the square, lightning licking after his every step, he wished he could take more time to watch her work as she leapt on soldier after soldier, cutting her falchions directly through the armor into flesh so savagely that she seemed to transform into a wild animal. They took out the soldiers in tandem—Ignis growing lightheaded again as he pivoted to the side of a shot and burst ten feet to the left to bury a dagger through the eye of an armored axeman. He blanched briefly as the flash of a blade passed in front of his eyes, but as he recognized the silver-white mithril and heard the ping of a bullet ricochet, he realized Rose had just deflected a shot meant for his head.

With any luck, that was the moment they’d been waiting for, but somehow, he doubted it would be that easy.

Cracking a hi-potion, he felt the cool wash of Noct’s magic settle over him—soothing the vicious burning holes of the laser blasts in his skin and even healing the chafing on his thighs and arms from his wet clothes, but doing nothing to alleviate the throb in his head—before turning to the coeurl.

 _Take the armor farthest away so you aren’t hit by the telepathic backlash,_ he instructed—because he’d be damned if they disconnected from each other at a moment like this, but he didn’t receive an answer. It seemed that veneer of civilization had dropped from her mind, exposing the cold, almost alien persona she had alluded to but had never exposed to him. This was Laurelín, the goddess, the Lliamérian Queen—not quite as lost as she had been in the war, but perhaps stepping on that path. As he caught sight of her blue-tinged form warping to the farthest armor, his own drain lance summoned to her hands and an expression of frigid fury on her normally warm features, he couldn’t find it in himself to hate or fear this creature, as she’d been moved to this state from her love and defense of him, her mate.

But he knew she wouldn’t want this, would regret the excessive force and forfeiture of Rose’s identity once the haze had settled, so he sent her a brief flash of them holding hands and laughing as they’d run toward the Bridge of Fists yesterday, along with his worry.

 _Stay with me, Rose,_ he said, turning back to the coeurl, who was crouched in a corner and likely charged up for an attack powerful enough to kill him in a single zap.

Her assault didn’t slow or decrease in ferocity, but he could feel her desperation, fear, and the chill of her mindscape melt at his image.

 _You’re right. Thank you,_ she murmured, warmth growing in their connection again. _Please, be careful._

Ignis’s eyes locked on the dancing coeurl whiskers sparking with electricity; all he had to do was get the giant cat to expend its energy fruitlessly before it would be safe to fight.

 _A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark,_ he noted with some amusement as he slid his blades together, igniting his steel.

_You’re a dork, and I love you dearly._

_You may want to assess what those two premises imply about you, love._

He crouched low and stalked toward the coeurl weaving hypnotically to distract the creature. It leapt forward with a hiss, baring its teeth, and Ignis spun to the side and landed into a crouch just as the whiskers snapped forward. Even with the distance of several inches, it felt as though the hair on his arms and head stood on end for a moment as the arcs of electricity dissipated in the air.

 _You mean, even more than your hair already does?_ Laura teased.

 _How very amusing to provoke me in the middle of such a hair-raising experience,_ he remarked before leaping onto the cat’s back and crossing his daggers over its neck, slicing through the jugular. Flipping off the flailing body, he landed behind the creature and buried both daggers in its hips before flitting to the side to do the same with its ribs. The giant cat flailed and flopped to its side with a final scream just as the explosions of a conquered armor rocked the square.

 _Two to go,_ he commented as he summoned his radiant lance and made his way to the closest remaining armor. With a running start, he slid under the belly of the great beast, pointing the blade straight up in the air before forcing it through the metal. Throwing all his weight into the effort, he dragged the blade forward, slicing through the delicate circuitry and sending the machine staggering back as the pilot attempted to escape his assault.

Laura spun past him, twisting out of the way of an exploding missile and completing several perfect coupés jeté en tournant en manége around his machine as she sliced at the joints of the legs. As he darted over to her armor and began his assault on its vulnerable leg joints, admittedly with less finesse, the vanity in him wondered if she could perhaps begin teaching him her own style of ballet combat next. The effect of her intuitive movement combined with such a graceful, well-disciplined art was rather stunning—and an aesthetic he aspired to.

 _Add ballet lessons to the list, then,_ she said with a grin as her armor collapsed to the ground in a heap of burning metal. His machine followed suit only seconds after, and he dismissed one of his daggers before rushing toward her and grabbing her hand.

 _Rose,_ he breathed, his blood seeming to dance in his veins at _finally_ being the one to say this. _Run!_

And they did—darting to the center of the square together before the remaining missiles exploded in a cacophony of heat, light, and percussion. Despite his use of potions this afternoon, Ignis’s lungs still ached as they heaved for air, to say nothing of the state of his head. But when he glanced down at his fingers woven together with Laura’s before looking up to catch her gaze—relieved, smiling, and completely his Rose—he didn’t feel a single stirring of his pain or exhaustion. He brought the dagger that was in his other hand around slowly, touching the flat of the blade carefully to the line of her jaw and tilting her face up to his.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes wide and searching. “I needed the reminder.”

“I love you,” he blurted out indecorously, still trembling from the triumphant rush of survival and so very relieved to find them both still breathing that he didn’t care for the moment about silly things like propriety. Dismissing his blade and letting go of her hand, he grasped for her cheeks and pulled her to him, leaning down to devour her mouth—lips sliding against lips, the taste of tea still faintly lingering on her breath, teeth scraping against his mouth, and the warm flesh of her tongue reaching out to taste him as he did the same. The sensation of her hearts pounding made his own seem to gallop out of his chest and across the courtyard as he soothed his fingertips over her cheekbones.

As much as he would’ve liked for everything around them to suddenly disappear so he could stand there and kiss her forever, or perhaps drag her off to bed, there were, unfortunately, far more important matters to attend to.

“If we didn’t have to get to the altar right now . . .,” he gasped between breathy presses of his lips to that spot she loved just in front of her ear.

“I know,” she replied, her voice low and panting.

“Save it for later?”

“You know it’s always here waiting for you,” she said, pulling back with a mischievous smile. “Turns out, I’m pretty easy.”

“Take care that rumor doesn’t get out,” he warned, looking down the avenue toward Madrana Street. “Between your reputation and mine, we may not be permitted to show our faces in Lestallum again.”

It seemed a full retreat hadn’t applied to the land-side of the Empire’s operations, as Magitek engines were still landing at several points throughout the city and dropping troops into the streets. They would never make it to the altar on foot at this rate.

“Do you think we could slip in under the radar in a small boat?” he asked, already turning to head back toward the evacuation docks.

“It depends on how much of a dick Titan wants to be. He’s not a fan of mine, but he should at least be able to identify us as friends and not foes as we approach if I’m with you.”

A crackle of static sounded in his ear, and for a heart-stopping moment, he thought that perhaps Noct was attempting to make contact, but Commander Ricci’s authoritative tone sounded a broad announcement instead: “Attention all units: assemble at the docks and prepare for withdrawal immediately. We depart in three minutes.”

“Wait!” he interrupted after he’d pressed a finger to his ear, swallowing his disappointment. “We’re headed to the altar. We need a boat.”

“Have you lost your marbles?!” the commander shrieked.

Ignis might have been more learned in diplomatic relations than military protocol, but the unprofessional nature of even the commanding officers of Accordo was all too apparent in a time such as this. ‘Lost his marbles?’ Surely not.

“Think Napoleon could probably benefit from lessons on protocol,” Laura muttered.

“No,” he replied sarcastically to the commander, then added seriously, “but we’ll lose the King if we don’t act.”

 _When did you start calling him the King?_ Laura asked, but he ignored her when the First Secretary’s voice cut in with, “Give him what he wants.”

“Hey, Iggy, do you copy?” Prompto’s voice sounded over the line, but Ignis found he couldn’t answer.

An image had shimmered bright and vivid in front of his vision, as clear as the day it had happened—a starry-eyed boy of four with shiny black hair beaming up at him as he grasped both hands around Ignis’s. His Majesty’s voice seemed to echo in his ears, “Listen well. A king cannot lead by standing still. A king pushes onward, always, accepting the consequences and never looking back. That said, a king can accept nothing without first accepting himself. Should he stand still, I ask you to stand by him and lend him a hand—as his friend and as his brother. Please, take care of my son.”

 ** _Oh_** _,_ _Your Majesty, I’m afraid . . . I must ask your forgiveness,_ he pleaded to the memory of his dearly departed liege as fear, which even in his panic he knew was irrational, bowled over him like a tidal wave. They couldn’t lose another King; he simply couldn’t lose his brother, even if it cost him his own life. Ignis had _promised_ he would always look after Noct. It seemed as though the fates themselves were doing everything in their power to keep them away from the altar. What if they couldn’t reach him in time?

 _Ignis!_ Laura’s voiced called from somewhere far away, and he felt hands on his cheeks, grounding him back to reality. Her sapphire eyes, so similar to Noct’s, were gazing up at him, searching, worried. _Come on, love. You have to stay with us if we’re all to get through this okay._

Yes, he had warned himself only yesterday not to let his fear rule his head. With a deep breath, he managed to chase away his panic, if not the frantic pounding of adrenaline through his blood or the pain lancing through his head, and grabbed Laura’s hand before sprinting toward the docks. 

_You're right. Thank you._

_You save me; I save you. It’s what we do._

“Ain’t a hard question, Iggy,” came Gladio’s enraged voice over the comm. “Do you copy—yes or no?!”  

“Yes, I copy.”

“Then speak up next time! Look, I’m just as worried as you are, but we can’t go losing our heads. If we wanna save Noct, we’ve gotta keep it together!”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I suppose you’re right. We’ll keep moving.”

  _He must be terrified too,_ Laura said. _They’re running up against far too many troops attacking the residents looking to flee their homes. They haven’t made it any closer to the altar either._

“Hang in there Iggy!” Prompto’s cheering voice sounded over the comm. “You and Laura take care of each other.”

“We will. Thanks, Prompto.”

The streets were clear of imperial troops in the Deutatuo Residential District as Ignis and Laura made their way back to the evacuation point, but the group of rescued civilians they gathered and led past ravaged buildings and unrecognizable squares swelled to a dozen by the time they arrived at Commander Ricci’s post. Ignis wondered just how many had stayed behind in the first wave of boats and how many Gladio and Prompto would need to assist before they were able to devote themselves fully to getting to the altar.

“If Lord Ravus ordered a full retreat, I wonder why Gladio and Prompto are still encountering so many troops in other parts of the city?” Ignis asked.

“It’s the nature of an operation like this when you have so many strong-willed commanders in one place. Caligo has certainly shown willful disobedience towards superiors the two times we’ve seen him. Ardyn also has command over his own men, and even Aranea is independently-minded with her own force that seems to be loyal to her and her alone.”

“Surely you don’t believe Aranea would use her company to attack unarmed civilians?” he asked in disbelief.

“No, but she _is_ here for this operation. She was at the masquerade.”

“Ah, likely in the air then, with her ship, but I’d have hoped she’d defected by now. I’m beginning to wonder whose side the High Commander is really on these days, as well, with his interest in preserving the lives of both the King and the Oracle.”

“My guess would be his sister’s side, which may bode well for us,” she replied as she hopped off the dock and into the awaiting skiff.

He had just followed suit, grabbing hold of the gunwale to steady himself against the boat’s heaving motion, when the Archaean gave a mighty, thunderous roar, sending tremors of soundwaves across the restless ocean’s surface and vibrating deep in Ignis’s chest. The god threw a fist at one of the ten Magitek engines surrounding him, sending chunks of airship debris and exploding missiles hurtling toward the water and city below.

“Hang on, Noct. We’re on our way,” Ignis whispered as Laura maneuvered the boat out of the channel and into the active war zone.

 _So, evasive maneuver training starts sooner than I would’ve expected,_ Laura said in an almost cheerful tone as he did his best to grip the handholds attached to the console. The boat was bucking wildly, the engine rising in pitch and volume as it hit each wave and rose completely out of the water before slamming back down with a crash. They were both jerked from side to side, nearly shaken from the boat as Laura spun the wheel wildly in either direction, her eyes darting back and forth between the sky and the water in front of them to dodge the hailing debris and shrapnel.

 _I’d say the likelihood of us making it are pretty slim,_ she continued, _even with me driving. This thing has all the speed and handling of a drunk bantha, but obviously, you want to keep an eye on the source of everything flying at you and anticipate where it’s going to land._

She paused in her lecture as she swerved to miss an enormous piece of what Ignis believed had once been the dome roof of the great cathedral, its impact sending a wall of water toward them that pushed the boat about five yards to the left and showering them with freezing droplets of water. Ignis shivered against the cold as the wind whipped his hair back and stole what little body heat he had between his skin and his damp clothes, but he kept his eyes locked on the golden column of light looming ahead of them and growing closer.

 _If we were being chased,_ she continued casually, as though they hadn’t almost been crushed or thrown from the boat, _you’d actually want to alternate between choosing the clearest path and coming as close to the debris as possible, so your pursuer can’t predict where you’ll go next. Swerving to put debris between you and your enemy is good if the situation applies, but not if speed is also an issue._

 _At least it appears as though the Archaean is paying us no mind,_ he noted, grateful that the god hadn’t decided to take action against their incoming or Laura’s presence. Having a god as a pursuer was certainly not something they needed to add to their list of experiences today.

 _Well, he’s a bit busy at the moment, and we **are** supposed to be allies,_ she pointed out.

They had almost made it to the altar by this point—that terrifying beacon of sparkling light nearly blinding him to everything else as they sped past the Archaean’s massive stone body—when Laura’s face grew pale. Ignis whipped his neck up to the sky to see the cause for her concern and spotted a Magitek engine hurtling out of control toward them—as well as three missiles.

 _Too many to swerve at once, we’re gonna hit at least a couple. Hold on!_ she said, hugging the wheel to her chest seconds before an ordnance made contact with the water just off their bow. It exploded with a rush of heat and fire, killing their forward momentum with the wave of water it sent rushing back to them.

 _Not over yet. Take a deep breath and don’t let go!_ she yelled.

He obeyed without question or comment, wrapping his fingers as tightly as he could around the handhold and ignoring the burn in his lungs as he sucked in the deepest breath of air he could manage. His eyes caught sight of the drop ship barrel rolling into the waves just off their starboard side, followed by several pieces of jagged masonry and debris, right before his every sense was cut off from him in an overwhelming cacophony.

Though he couldn’t discern whether it was debris or the wall of water that hit him, it hardly mattered, as whatever it was threatened to knock the breath out of him and succeeded in ripping his fingers from the support, tossing him overboard as though he were no more than an inconsequential piece of flotsam. Frothing water forced its way down his nose as he desperately gripped at his glasses to keep them on his face and frantically kicked his way up. The moment he had broken the surface, he blew his nose violently, expelling the burning saltwater from his already tender lungs and drawing in a desperate gulp of air. Despite all the wonders of the ocean that Laura had shown him recently, he’d had quite enough of nearly drowning today, thank you. Spinning in a circle to assess the situation, he spotted the empty skiff floating several yards away—and no sign of her.

 _Rose?_ he queried, reaching out to locate her, and there—she was beneath him and continuing to descend. Though a Magitek engine maneuvered to hover just above his head, whipping wind and waves into his face and assaulting his ears, he ignored it for the moment in favor of her response, even as the back of the ship opened to reveal a hybrid armor of a type he’d never seen before.

 _I’m all right,_ she said, her voice calm, but he thought he could feel her struggle as she continued to sink deeper. _I’m just a bit . . . stuck at the moment. Working on it._

“Well, well. Look who it is! What could one of His Majesty’s royal retainers be doing here of all places?” a familiar, sneering voice sounded over the sound system coming from the ship, and Ignis could just make out the gaudy armor of Commander Caligo as he strutted around the side of the machine to sneer down at him.

Without pausing to wait for an answer, Caligo raised a finger in the air, and the ship’s guns turned on Ignis, spattering bullets in thwacking, exploding patters across the waves in his direction. As the shots grew closer, Ignis surmised that if he wanted to live, he couldn’t stay where he was out in the open water; the boat was his only option, but it would mean leaving Rose behind.

They couldn’t separate today, of all days.

_Oh for gods’ sakes, don’t worry about me! I’ve got a good forty minutes or so of air down here. Get the frack out of there!_

“Bloody hell!” he growled out in frustration as he reluctantly leaned forward and swam to the boat as fast as he could manage.

 _You had better not be lying to protect me, or so help me gods . . .,_ he warned her.

_I swear, I’m all right. My foot is caught, but I think I can use this pole as a lever. If not, I can always expend the extra energy and use magic—a plan B. I’ll be fine._

Heaving his sopping, exhausted body onto the boat and dragging himself to the console, he was relieved to find that the engine roared to life on the first try. Though the Archaean gave another great roar, Ignis couldn’t stand to watch the titanic form disappear in a shower of gold sparkles or spend a single moment wondering what that meant for those still on the altar because Caligo had ordered the drop ship to come alongside the skiff.

“Surrender now, and I’ll ensure your end is as painless as possible,” Caligo taunted.

His only goal now was to lure Caligo away from the scene, to ensure both Noct’s safety and Laura’s, when she emerged. That would mean a chase.

 _It seems as though I am to be tested on my evasive maneuvering competence much sooner than expected,_ he said before fixing Caligo with a glare.

“Never!” he spat as he aimed the boat at the shore and hit the throttle.

_I have faith. You always were an excellent student._

“Then you leave me no choice,” he heard Caligo say before the spray from a giant splash hit him in the back.

Ignis didn’t need to look behind him to know that Caligo had chosen to chase after him in the custom hybrid armor stored in the back of the ship; those wicked-looking propellers were well-suited for maneuverability in the water, after all. However, the fact that he’d insisted on pursuing him in the watercraft only spoke to his stupidity—the drop ship, with its greater speed and better versatility, not to mention the guns capable of spreading over a wider range, would have been much more efficient. Still, Ignis was hardly one to complain about the good fortune that came to him from another’s idiocy.

“Here they come,” he remarked to himself as he opened the skiff’s engine up all the way, trying to apply everything he’d learned in Laura’s five minutes of instruction to dodge the missiles headed his way. Fortunately, there was plenty of debris for him to swerve around as he weaved the boat through clear waters, around sharp pillars jutting out of the canal that ran through the middle of the city, and past the exploding ordnances Caligo was hurling at him. Though he also attempted to implement his Intuition in the exercise, he found the jarring explosions, the roaring of the wind in his ears, and his inability to feel relevant vibrations up through his feet too distracting for the practice to be of much use, so he focused instead on the littered path ahead and the creaking, whirring mechanisms of the armor behind him.

“Once you’re out of the way, the Ring of the Lucii will be mine!” Caligo bellowed.

Just as Ignis was beginning to wonder what would happen when he ran out of canal, a problem that was approaching all too quickly as he scrambled for a plan, Caligo had apparently discovered the benefits of actually aiming for one’s opponent and hit the port side of the stern of the skiff. The resulting explosion deafened and disoriented him momentarily, the heat rolling across his back as his center of gravity seemed to whirl around him. He couldn’t be certain, but either he slammed against something or something slammed against him hard, knocking the breath from his lungs and freezing his diaphragm in shock and pain for several moments as he rolled across the surface of whatever had just hit him—land, perhaps?

His hearing was the first sense to return as a high-pitched squeal in his ear seemed to drive a blade into his brain. His earpiece must have gotten hit at some point, which would explain the wet, seeping sensation down his right earlobe and side of his neck. As his diaphragm unlocked, he inhaled deeply, reaching up to yank the apparatus from his ear before it deafened him again and tossing it aside.

_Ignis! Are you all right?_

_Yes,_ he replied, keeping his inner voice from groaning in pain as he summoned a potion and crushed it in his hands. The instant relief swept over his aching body as he asked, _Have you surfaced?_

_Yes, but Gladio and Prompto are trapped in a building under siege on Polipoli Street. I need to go to them._

Despite the effort he could feel in her mind in trying to hide it, her conflict was all too evident; she didn’t want them separated today any more than he did—especially at the hands of Jared Hester’s killer, but as Prompto and Gladio were most certainly in danger and he wasn’t, there was no choice to be made. Even Noct’s mind, strong and steady as it had remained since first they’d set out to find him, put Gladio’s and Prompto’s need first.

 _Yes, by all means, assist them,_ he said unnecessarily, as she had already made landfall and was rushing toward Polipoli Street. _I’ll be all right. Remember, I am **not** Jared._

_I know. Now go and dance with him._

Ignis refused to allow an incompetent lout like Caligo Ulldor to best him in battle—he wouldn’t abide by such a shame as his legacy. This would _not_ be the moment he died.

Summoning his daggers and calling the flame to his hands, Ignis stood tall—ready to exact revenge for Jared; for Gladio; for Talcott; for every other man, woman, and child who had suffered at this brute’s ungainly hands.

“I’m afraid not. It will _never_ be yours,” he replied vehemently to Caligo’s threat. “I’ll make sure of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, the ability for Ignis to Batman his way around Altissia but conveniently not make it across the city in 5 seconds was too much of a coincidence for me, especially if you look at the map and see that it would have taken 5 seconds for him to get to the bridge Ravus must’ve used—or even jump in the water and hookshot across the exploded bridge. Since I don’t have the luxury of writing, “Sorry love. We can’t make it to the other side of this bridge because the game won’t let us,” he doesn’t get his Batman hookshot.


	52. Chapter 52

For the first time in recent memory, Ravus wasn’t being watched. Ever since he was sixteen years old, he’d been kept a very close eye on—which even Ravus could admit had been a most prudent practice. Eager to utilize the rare power with which he’d been granted after his only hope for assistance ran away in fear, the Empire had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse—join the ranks of the Empire, and they would spare his and Lunafreya’s lives.

He had agreed, and not to spare his own life.

That strange sensation of freedom only fueled the oozing rush of satisfaction as he thrust his sword deeper through the vile imbecile’s belly. Ravus slowly withdrew his blade, allowing Caligo’s nerves to twist and jerk along its sharp edges as he danced like a puppet from the agony of his death throes. With a final, vicious yank, Ravus pulled his sword free as Caligo cried out, and he casually flicked the point against the man’s armor, sending him flying back with a final grunt.

He allowed himself the indulgence to stand over the dead man for only a moment. How many times had Caligo towered over Lunafreya’s cowering form as she huddled on the floor in an effort to protect herself from his meaty fists? How many times had Ravus not been there to protect her from a man four times her size? And for all that he had taught her to defend herself, it seemed the escalation of violence coupled with the need to appear cooperative meant that she would always suffer at someone’s twisted mercy.

Though she had long-since ceased fearing the Commander, it would be one of Ravus’s highest honors to inform his sister that at least one source of her torment had been removed from the land of the living by his very hands.

His conscription had perhaps been fortuitous, as from the very day his dear sister had been named Chosen Oracle, he’d known that her serving the lazy, ineffectual King, who spared nary a care for the people and lands beyond his own, would take her life one day. The ancient pact between the gods, the forebears of House Fleuret, and House Caelum had always, at least in Ravus’s opinion, been a one-sided affair, with House Fleuret suffering most of the burden while the Kings sat back on their comfortable throne in their walled city.

Ravus had named himself Lunafreya’s sole protector the day their mother had been murdered, and to protect the Chosen Oracle, Ravus would need power, an abundance of it. If she were to survive her duty, Lucis would need a new Chosen King, and Ravus would need to toil his way up the ranks of the Empire so that he might one day be in the position to put on that Ring, cite his noble blood, and prove that no one was more worthy than he to bear the mantle to protect his sister.

It hadn’t worked out as he’d imagined, of course.

With shrewd, assessing eyes, Ravus turned to the Lucian boy—yet another wasted specimen of spoiled, cowardly Lucian nobility, as they all were. Given the cowardice of their king, how could they possibly be anything else? Still, he’d managed to get further than Ravus had expected, to defeat Caligo’s armor singlehandedly, but then he supposed anyone likely could, with such an incompetent moron at the helm.

“Ravus,” Ignis said in a low voice, but Ravus took note of the boy’s own intense, assessing gaze. Though his hands were ready to summon a weapon, he hadn’t yet pulled a blade, instead leaving his options open in case diplomacy were an option.

Intelligence, caution, perhaps talent? Possibly, he’d been incorrect about _all_ Lucian nobility. Though he could freely traverse the city to the altar on his own, perhaps he should join forces with this child, learn more about the people his sister seemed so eager to marry into, even if he still believed she was throwing her life away for naught. If he were to do this, however, the boy would have to prove himself immediately, as word of Ravus’s defection would quickly spread if even one of the soldiers currently rushing into the square to surround them escaped to tell the tale.

His decision was made the moment an armored axeman lifted his weapon to split Ignis in two, but as he lunged forward, Ignis seemed to already be aware of the MT behind him, summoning his daggers and twisting to the side faster than Ravus’s eyes could focus. Judging Ignis’s previously demonstrated caution, Ravus allowed himself to lose sight of the potential enemy as he drove his blade through the Magitek core of the axeman, dropping it to the courtyard pavement in an arc of scarlet electric currents.

He took a few steps back, where he could see from the corner of his eye Ignis standing at the ready.

“I’ve no quarrel with you, boy,” Ravus informed him. “Join me. I can secure us a way to the King and the Oracle.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Have you any other options?” he spat impatiently. They needed to secure their tentative alliance before one of these damnable soldiers alerted anyone.

There was a moment of silence before he replied, “You have a point,” and Ravus heard the clank of metal, what sounded like the body of an MT crashing to the stone, and the metallic tinkling of summoning. At the very least, the boy would make an interesting companion on this mission.

“Then it’s settled.”

As Ravus spun to catch the neck of the nearest soldier, his white coat whipping up in the momentum, he heard Ignis say urgently, “We must be quick.”

“You needn’t remind me,” he growled back. He was not a simpleton, and he was well aware of the consequences—far more than the boy, after all.

Concentrating on his work as he was, Ravus didn’t take note of the advisor’s skill until only two soldiers were left. Flickering lightning seemed to shrink back into his hands as Ignis flashed toward the bannerman, who Ravus knew by his status alone would be hopeless with any weapon. It was why such men were given the vulnerable position of holding something as useless as a banner in the middle of a battle—steel fodder for the other side while the more skilled took them out. Flipping into the air, Ignis came to balance on top of the crossbar of the soldier’s banner before allowing his daggers to lengthen into pointed icicles with a flick of his wrists. He leapt high with a somersault, coming down blades-first and cleaving the frantic soldier’s helm in two before landing lightly on his feet.

Ravus was familiar with the second man by his moves alone—Jason Bormundr—a decent, if middling swordsman, overly eager to bring honor to his house and family. Ravus stood back and watched, appraising Ignis’s bladework in curiosity as he allowed the icicles to melt from his blades, switching to fire as he ducked the soldier’s swift blow as though the man had been moving in slow motion. Ignis seemed not to even need to think as he effortlessly flipped his hold on the dagger and stabbed down into the collar, an unfortunate weak spot for an imperial rifleman. Taking several steps back, he tossed one of his flaming daggers, sending it spinning with the precision of an archer through the flailing man’s helm directly into his eye.

“The Power of the Storm, Ice, _and_ the Inferno,” Ravus remarked, raising an eyebrow as Ignis dismissed his blades, his chest heaving with effort. “You’ve been blessed by the gods.”

The advisor pulled himself straight, attempting to hide the fact that he was out of breath as he used his middle finger to push his glasses further up onto his nose. An insolent smirk spread across his lips as he said enigmatically, “Hardly. Just the one, but she’s more than enough.”

The Glacian, then, as the Tidemother never gave her favor to mortals. The advisor’s flippant explanation didn’t account for how he’d managed to master the elements outside Her purview. However, it mattered not; the gods’ favor was hardly worth much. His own sister had been followed much of her life by three Messengers, and yet they’d done little but further endanger her life, conveniently going missing whenever she was in danger and assisting her in passing secret messages back and forth as though the enemy Prince were nothing more than a childhood pen pal.

But Ignis’s explanation also gave him pause. His own Power of the Storm manifested itself differently and came at a higher cost to wield, which was why he did so infrequently. Even if Ignis’s power was not as strong as Ravus’s and obviously came at a lower cost, this man was no mere Glaive. His use of elements was too versatile, the way he moved bordering on inhuman. There were only two families capable of such power, and only one Blessed in such a manner. 

“What is your connection to House Fleuret?” he demanded, and the advisor’s brow shot up, his eyes widening.

“None, that I’m aware, though I’m told my father did hail from Tenebrae.”

“His name.”

His brow furrowed, his gaze narrowing in suspicion as he replied, “Venetus. I’m afraid I never learned of his bachelor’s name. Scientia was the name that had to be carried on in Lucis.”

Venetus—named in the style of the noble families of Tenebrae, so it was almost certain they were somehow related, even if distantly. The stripping of Ignis’s name, of his heritage, of the one thing that could possibly redeem him in Ravus’s eyes, however, was a crime typical of those arrogant Insomnians.

“Lucians,” he sneered. “Xenophobic, the lot of you, even to your own allies.”

“It wasn’t a question of origin,” Ignis replied calmly, though his jaw tightened at his words. “My family has carried the name ‘Scientia’ since it was given to our founding ancestor by Ifrit himself in the founding of Solheim. It might behoove you to realize that not all of us conform to your narrow-minded view of the world.”

So, the boy had auspicious origins on both sides of his bloodline, gave off at least the impressions of intelligence, and wasn’t completely hopeless with a blade.

“You might be of some use after all,” he remarked, turning to head up the stone steps that would lead them toward the altar. Calling on the Power of Earth, Ravus raised a foot and casually kicked down the door that would lead them from the Padore District, and upon seeing the street before them, with its every building knocked to the side or reduced to rubble, Ignis’s eyes grew pained.

Green—the boy may have had potential, but he was as sheltered and inexperienced as Ravus had initially believed. But Ravus had seen the look in his eyes as he’d stood fearlessly at the ready between the little princeling and a hopelessly superior foe back in Aracheole—the expression of devotion that went far beyond that of duty. He was well-familiar with that desperate longing, that wild, reckless willingness to throw one’s life away to protect a loved one.

These past twelve years, Ravus had fully devoted the full measure of his existence to ensuring Lunafreya would survive her role—there was nothing else left in this wretched world for him to live for. Try as he did, he couldn’t see the world or a future through his sister’s eyes, a future brimming with light and love and goodness. Her view stemmed from the naiveté and idealism of youth, of having not yet been fully beaten down as Ravus had, which signified at least that he’d managed to somewhat succeed in protecting her as she piece by piece sacrificed herself to a ravenous, greedy, and uncaring people.

Ravus’s undying love for his sister had been the only reason he’d allowed her to pursue her feelings for that dishrag of a boy despite his better judgment. He knew from experience that not having the freedom to make one’s own way in life was no life at all, so he’d allowed her to make her choices, even if he thought them foolish.

Ravus wondered how much of this Ignis had endured with Noctis.

“Magitek armor,” Ignis spat like a curse under his breath as they reached the edge of the balcony to fully view what was left of the street. From their vantage point, two armors patrolled the deserted rubble, keeping the area free of civilians and under Empire control.

“You needn’t waste your time,” Ravus informed him before he could leap out of their relatively sheltered hiding place. “I’ve ordered a full retreat. They’ll be gone soon enough.”

As Ignis came to kneel beside him, his eyes hardened, glittering with distrust, and Ravus wondered at the cause for him to suddenly doubt his word.

“Not according to my intelligence,” Ignis shot back. “Even in this very moment, troops are landing in the Erteno Residential District, pulling innocent civilians from their hiding places and slaughtering them, bombing occupied buildings, and setting fire to the bridges to cut off any escape.”

Ravus’s eyes flashed to Ignis’s ears to see that there were no communication devices on his person. “From where do you receive your intelligence?”

“Not that it matters, but I have my ways. The point is that I speak the truth, and I should like an explanation before I throw in my lot with the likes of a man capable of such malice.”

“I have none,” Ravus ground out in frustration. “Except perhaps Ardyn. For weeks now, my orders have been undermined by that overreaching diplomat. Doubtless he suspects my motivations.”

Ignis looked up sharply at the Magitek engine coming in for a landing overhead to load the armor waiting in what had once been a decorated courtyard. Seeing for himself that Ravus’s word was true, the advisor seemed to relax somewhat as he turned back to Ravus.

“Why turn against the Empire? Why now?”

How disappointing—such an obvious question. Beginning to rethink the boy’s intelligence, he said impatiently, “My sister’s life is at stake. Is that not reason enough?” Ignis scoffed, lowering his eyes to his boots and shaking his head in disbelief, and Ravus, beginning to understand the motivations behind such blunt words, hastened to explain. “The paths we tread may differ, but the blood coursing through our veins is one. So, too, is our calling. I must protect her.”

At his words, Ignis’s gaze met his in understanding. So, Ravus had been right about the boy’s love, whether romantic or familial, but unlike Ravus, the advisor had gone too far in protecting the Prince, spoiling him, rotting him, raising him as a useless, pathetic waste of dull and sleepy nobility—just like his father.

“Is it safe to assume this means you’ll lend Noct a hand?” he asked with a disbelieving air.

“Don’t be asinine,” Ravus cut off the end of his words. “Our interests may have aligned in this moment, but I have not allied myself with _him._ ”

Ravus also recognized well that slightly manic, desperate light in the boy’s eyes now—that edge of madness should the worst happen and his charge be lost to the darkness the Prince so thoughtlessly hurled himself into without regard for those who looked after him. The very same edge of the abyss seemed to haunt Ravus daily, as there would be nothing left in this world for him—no dawn, no hope, no future, no world at all if his lifetime of diligent care and commitment were all for naught. If Lunafreya were not worthy of the bright future which she envisioned and fought for, no one was. This brutal heartless world was undeserving of saving at the expense of her bright, sweet, selfless soul.

Ignis’s eyes drifted from Ravus’s own gaze down to linger on his Magitek arm, his lips tightening and chin tilting in thought. After several weeks of receiving such stares, Ravus had grown used to them, but he was curious to know the boy’s thoughts on the subject. It was common knowledge that he’d lost his arm in the invasion, though the stories as to the reason varied greatly from truth to the ridiculous.

“What of it?”

“I have doubts that you were born with a prosthetic,” he remarked in a dry tone, his intonation rising as though he were asking a question yet giving nothing away. Ravus recognized this as an interrogation tactic to encourage the subject to make an assumption as to the knowledge desired, the most important and relevant information. However, Ravus had nothing to hide.

“Your doubts are correct. I once believed it was I who was destined to dispel the darkness. This is proof I was wrong,” he answered, examining his mechanical hand as he clenched it into a fist.

Though the foreign apparatus obeyed his command as precisely and efficiently as the one with which he’d been born, it was without feeling, without the organic power that coursed through his veins or the warmth of his blood. There was something treasonous about this arm, and not simply because the loss of his original one was the very same that had been sliced open the day his mother had been murdered. It was as though this thing had its own soul, maliciously lingering inside him in a way that made his blood run cold, but there was nothing that could be done about it now. What was done was done; he merely had to wait for the consequences of his actions.

Ravus’s very last hope for saving Lunafreya had been extinguished that day, as a carefully maintained candle of vigil is extinguished against the unforgiving winds of a mighty hurricane. He’d believed that of all those walking this world, there had been no man worthier than he of noble blood to wield the Power of Kings and assist his sister in her calling. Upon their refusal, their insistence that _Noctis_ , the inutile child was to be their ignorant sacrifice, Ravus finally let go of his life’s ambitions.

He still had his doubts about the child’s ability to succeed; he still begged his beloved sister to hold at least _something_ back of herself in these damnable covenants so that she would live to see the future she believed in. But despite the futility of her toils, she continued to love the spineless cur that was so unworthy of her sacrifice, and he couldn’t deny her the _one_ source of happiness she’d created for herself. When she’d faltered and attempted to pass on her calling, he’d encouraged her to show the Prince the truth of her heart, to inspire him to succeed and see her vision of a bright future, because Ravus certainly would not have found the empty words to do so, faithless as he was in both the boy and the future.

“We haven’t much time,” Ravus said, standing. Apparently, even the armors in this area had chosen to disobey his orders and continue their sweep of the area. They would have to take them down together by stealth if they were to reach the altar.

“I’m aware,” Ignis replied in a sarcastic, lilting tone, crouching low and ducking behind a shot-up Gelati Galigione cart.

As they approached the MA Veles, Ravus, doubting the boy’s ability to handle such an operation at his level of skill, called over his shoulder, “Keep up.”

But the advisor had already flitted past, summoning his daggers as he nimbly sliced through the foot joints—as effectively as though he’d been the one to design and assemble the machine himself. With a powerful kick, he sent the armor tumbling before sliding out of the way of its descent. But for the boy’s expertise, he wasn’t quite as effective as Ravus at taking the apparatus down; the core was still operative. Ravus leapt high in the air, grabbing hold of the body for support as he landed, and twisted his sword with a violent jerk into the port of the MA Veles’s arm. Before it could fall to the stone with a ground-shattering clash, Ravus leapt off its back and landed lightly in front of Ignis, raising his eyebrow in a challenge.

“Ready?” Ignis asked.

Ravus rolled his eyes. Honestly, he wasn’t one of the child’s road trip pals. “Do you have to ask?”

They had just taken down another armor in tandem, with Ravus piercing the core as he had before, when he heard the roaring buzz of another Veles on the roof. Whirling to spot the source, Ravus found he had to take a step back as Ignis leapt in front of him, hurling a polearm with deadly speed and fluid accuracy into its inner workings, his body following through with the movement as though he were dancing. Clearly, the child hadn’t been trained by the ineffectual Crownsguard, not even with the dullard of brutish strength that was the Shield’s claim to fame. He’d gone beyond the standard sources to acquire his skill, and even Ravus could hold a grudging appreciation for that sort of dedication.

Somewhat taken aback at being caught off guard and saved by a Lucian noble, of all people, he warned, “Don’t get in my way.”

“So long as you stay out of mine,” he snapped back before leaping on the walkway that would lead them to the Pitra District.

As much as it pained him to admit it, even to himself, the child was beginning to earn his respect. Green and still a bit naïve though he was, Ignis Scientia was resilient, cunning, and ruthless when it came to protecting those he loved, not unlike Ravus himself. Ravus could hardly imagine such a man pledging his undying allegiance to a spoiled brat of a Prince. Was it at all possible that Ravus had been mistaken about the boy? He doubted it, but he needed to ask if he was to be certain the child was worthy of receiving his father’s glaive.

“Tell me,” he said quietly as they darted across the smoky courtyard, hopping over piles of rubble and jumping over great tears in the paving stones left by hurled Magitek engines. “Do you truly believe Noctis is the one True King?”

“I believe that goes without saying.”

“If he is, he still has much to prove. The darkness will not wait for his ascent. It will consume our star and all upon it.”

“I know,” Ignis admitted. “He may not yet grasp the gravity of his calling, but once he does, he will rise to the occasion and fulfill his destiny.”

While his conviction was admirable, Ravus had seen far too much evidence of the boy’s weakness. He would need something more if he was to hand over King Regis’s sword—one solid piece of evidence beyond this boy’s blind faith.

“One can only hope you’re right.”

Hope—it wouldn’t be enough.


	53. Chapter 53

The chill in the air brushed across Ignis’s damp body as he and Ravus _finally_ sprinted onto the stone Altar of the Tidemother just as the sun was beginning to set.

“Noct!” Ignis called out, wishing with all his will to hear Noct’s impatient and exasperated voice call back to him, demanding to know what had taken Ignis so long to get to him, but he was met with only silence.

“Lunafreya!” Ravus shouted from beside him.

As Ravus rushed ahead, a flash of white out of the corner of Ignis’s eye distracted him, and he shifted to face the possible threat, his fingers twitching in preparation to summon a weapon. His hands stilled, however, at the sight of Pryna lurching toward him before collapsing to the ground, her body heaving with the effort of her pants.

“You’re her dog,” Ignis remarked softly, thinking of Umbra’s sister.

Her dark eyes met Ignis’s before she heaved a great sigh, golden fireflies of Eosian power flitting around her prone body that coalesced into a light, beginning as a gentle glow and growing brighter and brighter until he had to throw his hands up to his face to shield himself from its radiance. He could taste that indefinable scent of time on the dog’s aura that he would sometimes detect on Rose and wondered if the dog was attempting some sort of time travel with her last breaths.

He realized he was wrong, however, when a cold, foreign presence pushed against his consciousness, inserting itself into his mindscape without regards to his wishes. The sensation wasn’t the warm, comforting contact he’d grown accustomed to from Rose; it was sharp, emotionless, frigid, though not necessarily malevolent. Still, he didn’t care for it invading his mind as it was. Doing his best to fight against its invasion despite not being a telepath, he reached out to Rose, who was dangling by her fingertips from the roof of what used to be a quaint brownstone in Erteno but was now a charred, bombed-out shell of broken masonry.

Words didn’t need to be exchanged as she dropped to the street and swept fully into his mind, beating back the foreign invasion with her own wall of sparkling gold as Ignis’s tension eased. All was still for a moment as Pryna’s consciousness hovered just outside of Rose’s—an impasse. 

But a sudden rolling tide of grief crashed into him from Rose’s thread as she said, _It’s safe for you to know now. Let her show you?_

Did she mean for him to allow this contact? Did he truly wish to hear what the gods had to say to him? In his entire life, Ignis could never turn down the offer of knowledge, no matter its contents, source, or consequences. Knowledge was who he was, apparently—a Scientia. How much impact had that name had on his character?

Forcing himself to relax against the oncoming discomfort he was about to allow, he gave Rose permission to withdraw her protection.

 _Please, forgive me. Remember, this is all to save the world. We all have a higher calling,_ were her last, ominous words before she withdrew the wall, and Pryna’s presence swept in—bitter cold and strangeness creeping over his brain next to Rose’s light, drowning out his vision of reality, only to replace it with images he begged for all the world weren’t being seared into his mind.

Noct’s face—weary with time passed and the weight of a future he didn’t ask for, pulled into a vicious snarl as he summoned King Regis’s sword and rammed its tip into the floor at his feet, which were pressed tight against the throne at the Citadel. Ignis’s breath was stolen from him, watching helplessly as the apparitions of the full Royal Armiger appeared in a circle around the staircase leading to the throne, the beauty of their phosphorescent sparkles belying the price Noct had paid in acquiring them—the price that Ignis was now learning. The spectres of each of the twelve Lucii took up their weapons before slamming the cold, sparkling metal into Noct’s chest, and as Noct recoiled from each blow, his hand slowly slid lower and lower down the hilt of His Majesty’s glaive before slipping off completely.

Just as Ignis was about to let go of his composure and scream his objections to the sky, to the gods, anyone who would listen, a deep, craggy voice boomed through his consciousness.

**_A power greater than even that of the Six, purifying all by the Light of the Crystal, only at the throne can the Chosen receive it, and only at the cost of a life, his own._ **

Ignis took in a shuddering breath when he recognized His Majesty’s battle armor as the final thirteenth Lucii hung in the air in front of the throne. No, surely the King wouldn’t . . ., but the man that had once slowly allowed himself to be eaten alive by the power of the Ring to save his city, the man that had smiled tenderly from afar as Ignis had painstakingly dedicated every aspect of his life to care for his son, dove down from where he hovered, took up his sword, and drove both his glaive and himself into Noct’s chest, into his own son’s barely-beating heart.

**_The King of Kings shall be granted the power to banish the darkness, but the blood price must be paid._ **

Whatever executioner had decided he should see this spared Ignis the image of Noct’s final moment, only to show him standing in a void of swirling colors, screaming in agony as the spectres of the Royal Armiger exploded from his back. The thirteen Lucii once again took up their arms, and Noct, his skin threatening to break apart from the sheer amount of power coursing through him, signaled the charge against a Starscourged Chancellor.

**_To cast out the Usurper and usher in Dawn’s light will cost the life of the Chosen. Many sacrificed all for the King; so must the King sacrifice himself for all._ **

Ignis couldn’t bear the final vision—the sight of his childhood friend, his eyes rolling up in his head, his skin shot through with paper thin curls of ash and burning lava, collapsing on his back before being consumed to ash and phosphorescent petals.

Everything—their entire lives had been a lie. From the moment Ignis’s parents had allowed him to be taken away: his _fucking_ indoctrination; his promise to the King; his lifetime of servitude and devotion, of learning and working and suffering—it had all been a sick and twisted mirage to trick him into thinking he was making headway in an effort to save his beloved brother from a cruel fate. All this time, and he’d been unknowingly helping them raise him as their sacrificial lamb.

Ignis stared down at the hands that had committed such treachery as he kneeled on the wet stone.

“What did I just see? A vision of what is to come?” he asked himself in disbelief, praying that this somehow wasn’t so, that it was somehow all a horrific nightmare.

 _Yes,_ Rose said solemnly, but there was an undercurrent of grief that alerted him to the fact that he hadn’t yet realized the full scope of the consequences of his vision. Her voice grew remorseful and pleading as the realization broke over him. _I couldn’t tell you. It had to be this moment, from someone in your timeline, or we would have killed us all. Please, Ignis, I’m so sorry,_ she beseeched.

She knew. Of course, she’d known. She had known of the Fall before they’d even left the city, so why wouldn’t His Majesty or the Crystal have told her about this? She had known in every moment as she smiled at him, held his hand, promised her undying love, and knocked through every wall he had spent his entire life meticulously crafting around his heart, brick by brick, sealing his soul in along with the one pure thing he’d had in his life—love. He had never been a man to give away his trust as one did pamphlets on the street, to say nothing of the scarred remnants of his heart, but the very idea that he’d fallen asleep on her as she dreamed of the death of his country before fusing his mind with hers as she concealed from him the death of his brother . . . his naiveté was too great for him to bear.

That overwhelming sense of betrayal flooded his chest, stealing his breath away and making him tremble, and for once, he didn’t put the wall up between them to hide himself away or protect her. He _wanted_ her to feel the blade she’d pressed so precisely into the soft underbelly he’d exposed to her—took relish in her answering anguish at just how thoroughly he hated her in that moment, not only for making him love her and lying to him but binding him to her, his shame, forever. No longer was she his lodestar, she was his lodestone, and in that moment, who she was or what she had given him was of absolutely no importance.

Ever since he was a child, she’d been guiding and manipulating his life, twisting his relationship with Noct into whatever she deemed would make it easiest on the both of them when it was time to send him off to slaughter. She’d manipulated Noct into loving them all even more deeply than he had—including Lady Lunafreya—so that his soul would be properly prepared for the moment his blood was spilled in reparation for a sin no one had committed.

_Neither of you had a choice. I didn’t have a choice. Ignis, please, listen to me! I was only trying to help make the best of a hopeless situation. There’s still so much you don’t understand, that I don’t even understand. The one thing I can still control—the one flux point I can influence is your life._

_You **are** the anathema,_ he hissed at her, but he wanted to scream it aloud until her synapses were branded with his loathing, wished he could push venom into her veins so that she would know what it felt like to be poisoned as she had poisoned him. _You’re no different than the Six—forcing us to dance like puppets to your whims. If you couldn’t tell me, couldn’t help me save him, then why did you stay here and burden us with your existence? Why don’t you just leave?!_

_I’ll do whatever is necessary whenever the time comes, and you may find the problem will take care of itself. But if we’re both still alive when this is over, I’ll do whatever you wish._

Ignis ignored the implication of her words, and to his satisfaction, she didn’t put the wall up between them, choosing instead to take her just punishment as his mind lashed at hers, whipping at it until she bled. Even as she caught Prompto around by the scruff of the neck to pull him down behind a crumbling section of wall, Ignis gnashed his teeth at her, sending her the sensations of tearing into her flesh and raking desperate claws over her—every place he had once allowed his bare hands to caress in treachery to his liege. A traitor. Ignis Scientia, who had once prided himself in being the cautious discerning strategist, had followed his youthful ignorance down this twisted path and had been transformed into a traitorous, foolish child—disloyal to his king.

His liege. With one final crack of his whip of hatred, he flung a solid wall of mythril up between them so that her poisonous golden thread was no more than a weeping, faded filament of wire. Would that he could banish it from his body forever, but he was soiled, tainted for eternity by her _love_. He would beg Noct’s forgiveness for his own dishonesty regarding _her_ later; he needed to ensure Noct’s safety first.

Hurling himself to the altar, he knew before he’d even gotten a sufficient look at the two figures huddled together on the ground that it was too late for Lady Lunafreya. Ignis had to squint against the sparkling gold power of Eos emanating from them to see Ravus’s silhouette, stiff-backed, fists clenched, and eyes raised to the sky in inconsolable grief. But what about . . ..

“Noct!”

As he drew closer, Ignis could taste the healing in the magic on the air as glittering golden light trickled slowly from Lady Lunafreya’s body to Noct’s until it faded and grew dark; she had given her last to save Noct’s life.

 _So that he may complete his journey to the throne one day to be killed by his own father,_ Ignis thought to himself bitterly.

Still, if there was anything that could be done . . .. Summoning a phoenix down, Ignis held it out to Ravus, but he only shook his head.

“Your accursed covenants were killing her long before the wound. Already, her flesh had begun to fail her.”

So there truly was nothing they could do. But Noct was alive for now, breathing, at least, and though Ignis made an attempt at breathing in a sigh of relief, it didn’t quite bring the cleansing purge and alleviation he’d been hoping for. Noct had already lost everything, or so Ignis had thought, but in addition to losing his home and father, he’d just lost the fiancée he was only just beginning to realize he loved along with his future. How could Ignis bear to tell him what he’d learned—to dash the one remaining sliver of hope that would make the rest of his short life worth living?

A prick of empathy struck him in that moment for Laurelín in the same situation, but he ignored it. She, after all, may have known about Lady Lunafreya this entire time as well, for all he knew.

Noct’s future wasn’t the only light that had been extinguished today; Lady Lunafreya herself, a strong and kind woman, had been ripped from the world far too soon, and their only source of healing the scourge in a time when it was raging viciously was lost. What did that mean for the fate of their world? Had she only temporarily stayed the execution of mankind by her sacrifice? Was Noct to sacrifice himself for naught? Was he to suffer a slow, agonizing fight for the rest of his life only to see the end of everything regardless of his suffering?

No. For all that Laurelín had deceived Ignis, even through the violence of his anger, he knew that her general nature was truthful, and she had said this was all to save the world. But that was little comfort. Without Lunafreya, their world would fall into eternal darkness, and humanity would be doomed to languish in the pits of despair until Noct rushed to his final judgment.

Examining Lady Lunafreya’s body, Ignis’s eyes were immediately drawn to the column of dark blood staining her dress. She’d been stabbed, by the looks of the wound, standing or kneeling in a vertical position—atypical of the slashing and hacking preferred by blade-wielding MTs and soldiers. Had the Chancellor been the one responsible for dealing her the blow after Ignis and Laurelín had seen his ship flying toward the altar? Why had he left Noct untouched?

“No . . .,” Ravus choked, his breath coming in gasps, clenching his teeth as though he could use them to hold back his wash of grief as he lowered his gaze to the pair.

And, of course, in that moment of despair, slow, fat raindrops began to fall from the sky, splattering heavily against the stone of the altar and on Ignis’s already damp shirt. How cliché would this horror become before it was over? Even the seas were beginning to surge, the waves of the bay growing angry with frothing white tops in seeming agreement with Ravus’s vehement denial and mounting anger.

“First, the Lucians stole from me my mother,” Ravus growled under his breath, his voice laced with fury. He reached for the hilt of his sword and drew it, holding the blade aloft. “. . . and now they make a sacrifice of my sister!”

Ignis hadn’t truly believed Ravus, even consumed by grief as he was, would harm his dear sister’s fiancé, but as Ravus swung his sword down in a high arc above his head, Ignis had to throw himself between the blade and Noct, catching the High Commander’s elbow and summoning a dagger with his other hand to meet his blade.

“Get out of my way!” Ravus roared.

Ignis could feel his knees trembling beneath Ravus’s prodigious strength—that very same inhuman strength that had taken Gladio down those weeks ago. Grimacing in an effort to hold his position, he managed to grunt out, “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done long ago: ridding us of this menace!”

Knowing he wouldn’t last this assault much longer, Ignis made a desperate move and let go of Ravus’s arm, bending to catch him around the middle and push him back—all while trusting that the desperate, enraged man wouldn’t take his head off in the process. He stumbled to the ground when Ravus merely pushed him away—not completely consumed by his rage then—but Ravus hadn’t retreated far enough to ensure Noct’s safety in Ignis’s mind. Running at him again, he bent low and pushed the High Commander by the hips until they both stumbled—Ravus backwards and he forwards—rolling into a clear stretch of masonry on the other side of the altar.

“Stand in my way and you, too shall meet the same fate: death!” Ravus screamed as they both jumped to their feet, and Ignis summoned his daggers to defend against the attack he now knew would come, for he had no intention of stepping aside.

A jolt shot through him as he called on the skills Laurelín had taught him—to duck and dodge every move Ravus made before he was even aware he was making it. Calling on the ability had seemed natural in the moment, and his surprise stemmed from the fact that he felt not the slightest hint of grief in summoning it. She might have taught him the skill, but his Intuition was all his, even if its acquisition was polluted with the memory of her.

“The Power of the Storm surges through my blade!” Ravus yelled as he infused his steel with arcs of purple lightning, and its appearance reminded Ignis strongly of that moment when Noct had summoned Ramuh at Aracheole, of when Noct had first received the Mark of the Fulgurian in Fociaugh Hollow.

“Come to your senses, man!” he shouted at Ravus, meeting his electrified sword with both daggers and attempting to absorb some of the lightning that was licking its way up his nerves in fiery pulses.

Ignis understood all too well what Ravus was feeling in that moment, for his identical experience was still stinging his every nerve like the aftershock of a ringing slap, even if the events in question hadn’t yet come to pass. And he, too was still overwhelmed with the desire to lash out against all those responsible for this gasping torment: His Majesty, Laurelín, that godsdamned dog.

Lady Lunafreya’s dog.

Lady Lunafreya had been surrounded by Messengers since she was a child, and it had just clearly been proven that the Six and their Messengers were well aware of Noct’s fate. Had Noct’s own fiancée possessed foreknowledge as well? It would have made Lunafreya and Laurelín more alike than Ignis could have imagined, and what were the odds that both Ignis and Noct could have been betrayed so completely in the very same manner by those they thought loved them?

But Noct wouldn’t even live to that morbid destiny if Ignis didn’t stop Ravus now. No matter what, Ignis wouldn’t allow Ravus to expel his daemons on Noct. This was what Ignis was born for—to protect his liege, his king, his brother, even if it was a hopeless venture. But unless Ignis’s strength had grown to eclipse Gladio’s, Ravus was clearly conflicted, as Ignis had won both shoving matches against him and was managing to hold his own against this most recent contest of blades against blade.

“I understand the pain you must be feeling, but Noct isn’t the one who did this to her,” he shouted, dipping to the side and pivoting to land a blow to Ravus’s thigh, but as Ignis was not striking at full speed so as not to truly do him injury, Ravus was able to block the blow. Ignis saw no need to attempt a true assassination until he’d proven that his aims to kill the King were fervid.

“Oh yes, he is!” Ravus screamed as he stretched out a wide-open palm to send an arc of purple lightning through Ignis’s body, but he was able to fall back into a back handspring to avoid yet another chilling assault on his nerves.

Ravus was clearly mad with grief, and it was only the similarities in their situations that allowed the small, niggling voice at the back of his head to suggest that perhaps Ignis might have been mad with grief as well. Could he be lashing out at Laurelín just as irrationally as Ravus currently was to Noct? He couldn’t see how, but then again, he’d done so before—in regard to Noct, in fact.

As he twisted away from another swift advance of steel, he dispassionately noted how interesting it was that the skills Laurelín had taught him should be used to free up the space in his analytical mind in order to pass his judgment on her.

If he had, in fact, lashed out irrationally, he might have just irreparably shattered every beautiful, kind, life-changing moment they’d shared together—his first time picking shapes from the clouds, watching the stars, expressing his love with his body, visiting another world. He might have lost her love and esteem, and _oh_ , why did that thought pain him so greatly?

As much as he wished he could sit down on this very stone and weep as he never did, even as a child, he couldn’t afford to lose himself in Laurelín just now, whether or not her actions had justification; he needed to focus.

There was just enough of their bond left in his mind, diminished though it was, to call on the Crystal’s powers, and he pulled it from her, taking his due payment for that which was necessary to save Noct’s life from this threat. Coaxing gently at his connection with the Crystal through Noct’s side, he found he was able to siphon off enough to supplement what he had in order to bring his namesake to his palms and out of his blades as he lunged to meet another assault from Ravus.

“Lady Lunafreya came to her King’s aid in his time of need. She was fulfilling her calling!” he argued from somewhere deep within, and he found that the words had brought a sudden moment of clarity.

This was his damned head at war with his damned heart—as always. He’d never been equipped to balance the two, not really, even after allowing himself to fall for Laura. Even her foreknowledge of the Fall hadn’t carved itself into his flesh so deeply, as she hadn’t yet settled into his marrow, found a home in his blood, wrapped roots around his heart.

Stepping back from the seething storm of emotions, he could see that his words were correct. Even if she had possessed foreknowledge of Noct’s fate, Lady Lunafreya had undoubtedly continued to forge the covenants regardless of her impending death in order to ensure Noct’s success, endured hell in the process, and had willingly laid down her life for him. But a woman who had devoted her entire life to her calling as the Lady had wouldn’t simply abandon the people she’d so painstakingly cared for in order to preserve a notion as selfish as personal love. Her sacrifice, perhaps even her silence regarding her foreknowledge, had all been to achieve that higher calling.

“Don’t try to justify this. She didn’t need to die!” Ravus screamed, raising his hand to deliver a stream of bolts to Ignis’s chest, but the preparation for the move took far too much time for Ignis’s Intuition not to react to with another roll to the side.

Just as His Majesty hadn’t needed to die, but he had walked to his gallows with his head held high. Just as Noct wouldn’t need to die, but his dear brother would wind up doing the same . . . as his own father plunged his own sword into his own flesh and blood. Who had done this to them all? Who had ripped all their futures away at such a tender age? What sin had they all committed to deserve this?

Ignis might not have known the root of the torment they all had shared from their childhood on, but he was, at the very least, beginning to understand the reason for it—the future.

Allowing his blades to lengthen to icicles, Ignis tossed them, hurling them to Ravus’s abdomen and forcing him to stagger back before Ignis dismissed the still hurtling steel. As Ravus recovered his stance, Ignis tried his best to find some reason left in the man. “Kill him, and her sacrifice will have been for naught. Kill him, and you kill her hopes for the future.”

“What hope is there in a future that my sister will never see?”

Indeed, what hope was there in a future that his brother would never see? Every iota of Ignis’s own being had been steadfastly devoted to Noct since he was three years old—wrought into every stone that made up the foundation of those meticulously-built walls he’d crafted as best he could against the manipulation of his tutors, the bite of the whip, the undermining from his own weak and foolish emotions—except for perhaps the one positive emotion he’d felt from boyhood to manhood—love. His love for his brother was a whispered word every evening as he lay awake in bed, desperate to find a moment’s respite from the daemons swimming in his head, screaming at him that no matter how hard he worked, no matter what he learned, no matter how much blood he spilled, he would never be enough to protect Noct from the oncoming darkness, to be of use. What hope was there left for Ignis now, knowing for certain that he would fail to keep him safe? That he would break his childhood promise? That it was never meant to be kept?

After ducking a swipe of Ravus’s sword and somersaulting back, he said, “You of all people must understand how Noct feels: bereft of both parents and forced to carry on despite losing those you love. You both feel that pain!”

And Ignis felt that pain as well—most keenly. Ripped away from his own blood at too young an age to even remember them enough to mourn them if they had, in fact, passed, he had also lost the only man that had been a father to him—to both death and betrayal. And Laura . . . whether to his betrayal or hers, he certainly felt the pain of her loss most acutely, a fresh, open, bleeding wound that was even in this moment draining him dry.  

“Yet I overcame it!” Ravus raised his blade at his exclamation, and Ignis met it, the metal on metal meeting edge on edge with a sparking clang, which Ignis pushed against to create the flame that would protect him from Ravus’s lightning as they glared at one another over the crossed steel.

“And he has as well, and will continue to do so, for I have foreseen it,” Ignis growled. “He will walk tall into his destiny knowing that everyone he ever loved, including myself, has betrayed him in favor of this world. Because _that_ is our _true_ higher calling, Ravus—to support theirs.”

Even as the words issued from his throat and shook him to his very core, he shivered at the truth of them. Because no matter who had forsaken whom in this desperate endeavor, their utmost intention for fulfilling the prophecy had always been to save the world, not to save Noct, despite Ignis’s most fervent wishes. Even though Noct’s, Ignis’s, and Gladio’s entire lives centered around Noct’s destiny, their higher calling was grander than that, and Ignis had either lost sight of that or had never truly understood it—if it was even possible to make a child understand such things.

The image of Noct’s determined, snarling expression swam in front of his eyes, and even Ignis’s broken heart couldn’t deny that, before his beloved brother finally collapsed under the piercing blades of his ancestors, his gaze held that of the most determined resolve—the gaze of a man, a King, selflessly fulfilling his duty with pride and honor, just as his father had. It was the same expression that was now forever etched onto Lady Lunafreya’s corpse, now growing cold.

“Because preserving the future of the human race is their wish, Ravus—their higher calling. And we will abide by it because we love them most fiercely.”

Applying the same standard, Ignis couldn’t help but think of Laura in that moment, and her higher calling to keep the world, the universe, the multiverse intact. He acknowledged the thought before shoving it to the side to deal with at a later time, but not before the shiver of fear at what he may have done slithered down his back.

Everything he had endured that day combined with this connection with the Crystal, using the two bonds in such a manner, had worn him down, and his limbs were fast turning to stone with each thrust, each leap into the air, each swipe of his blades as he alternated the elements pouring out of his hands in an effort to tire the High Commander.

Ignis spotted the perfect opening when Ravus fell to the stone beneath his blows, leaning on his Magitek arm, and Ignis drew a dagger high above his head, extinguishing the fire that would cause Ravus undue injury and burying the blade into the complex apparatus of metal and moving parts. At this symbol of victory, Ravus slumped, the fire in his spirit extinguished. Heaving with exhaustion, Ignis also fell to his hands and knees beside him.

“And yet I have to find it in my heart to forgive those who have deceived us for that same calling,” Ignis panted between labored breaths, “because they’re all I have left. I’ll not kill you, because we are the same, Ravus. I know you can overcome this irrationality despite the pain that’s threatening to rip you apart because I must also do the same.”

Ravus straightened up to one knee, yanking his arm from where it was pinned to the stone. Ignis would have dismissed his blade from where it was still lodged in the High Commander’s circuitry, but he found he couldn’t summon the energy to do so as he pressed his aching head to the freezing wet altar, shuddering in heartache, cold, and exhaustion.

“I always knew,” Ravus murmured, stumbling to the prone forms of Noct and Lady Lunafreya, and Ignis turned to ensure that his ire hadn’t been rekindled. “. . . that you would face your fate without fear, fulfill your duty without regret.” Grunting in pain, Ravus fell to his knees at Lady Lunafrya’s side. “But part of me always hoped . . . that I might see you happy one day. Your burdens lifted, free to live and love as you please.”

Gods, Ignis remembered only too well the nights he’d spent poring over a report on incoming Glaive intelligence or driving a blade into a practice dummy in the deserted Crownsguard training facility, wishing in every moment those identical aspirations for Noct.

Overthrowing his weariness, he staggered to his feet stepping gently up behind Ravus but maintaining a distance to allow the grieving man privacy as he cradled his dead sister in his arms.

“You would have made a beautiful bride,” he whispered.

Those same golden sparkles that had enveloped Pryna overtook Lady Lunafreya’s body in that moment, and a swell of hope lodged in Ignis’s throat, but Ravus’s voice was still desolate as he spoke. “Even in death, the Oracle does not rest. Only once the darkness is dispelled is her calling truly fulfilled,” he said softly, unsurprised at the disappearance of his sister’s body and her reappearance as a golden spectre over the restless water next to the altar. He had implied back in Lucis that he’d known the price of the covenant—just how much had _he_ known about this entire process? Was Noct’s destiny also included in his expertise? As with the fall of Insomnia, had _everyone_ been aware but the four of them?

As her glittering golden power lit the darkening sky like a beacon and ghostly sylleblossom petals fell to the altar along with the raindrops, he continued in a low, defeated tone, “And, as in life, I know she will confront that challenge with a smile on her face.”

And indeed, a sweet smile was gracing the beautiful apparition’s expression as she floated back and faded from view. Ravus reached out, collapsing with a shuddering sob, “Sister . . ., please don’t go. Please, don’t leave me.”

Ignis’s first instinct was to comfort, to place a hand on Ravus’s shoulder, and though he hardly knew the man, he knew that Ravus would prefer his privacy for appearing so indecently, weeping on the stone as he was. Instead, Ignis cast his gaze down to Noct, clenching his jaw, closing his eyes, and allowing a tide of his own grief to wash over him—grief for Lunafreya, grief for Noct, grief for the pieces of his and Laura’s broken relationship.

His moment taken, he turned to Noct and bent on one knee, assessing his condition. He was about to scoop Noct into his arms to carry him to the hotel when he heard Gladio call out behind him.

“Iggy!”

“Gladio!” he stood and greeted, relieved to see at least one of his family alive and whole. But something wasn’t right. “Are you all right? Where are Prompto and Laura?” Keeping the wall up in his mind, he touched her weakened filament to ensure its presence. It seemed to shiver at his touch, but all was as he’d left it.

There was something not quite right about the smirk that spread over Gladio’s face as he sauntered toward Ravus, who was still kneeling on the altar and drowning in his mourning. His eyes were lacking that warm spark of mischief that the Shield possessed even when facing an enemy—they were cold and ruthless.

“Well, well, what have we here?” he said, summoning his greatsword.

Something inside Ignis was screaming to reach out and taste the aura around this man, despite not yet being able to ever feel anything from Gladio, but as soon as Ignis tilted his head and looked with his Intuition, it was instantly clear that this was _not_ Gladio. And though his fingers twitched to summon his remaining dagger, it was too late to act, as Ravus had already met not-Gladio’s blade with his own in a resounding clang and slap to the side.

“You!” Ravus hissed, seething with hatred. “Ardyn!”

Ignis could no longer see the Chancellor’s expression on not-Gladio’s face from his position, but he could hear the oil seep into his voice as he casually flicked not-Gladio’s hand in the air and dismissed his sword.

“Oh dear. Was I that transparent?” he oozed, melting into his proper form as he took off his hat with a flourish.

Distracted as he was by the shock, or perhaps through some magic of the Chancellor’s, Ignis didn’t notice the squad of soldiers rushing onto the altar until a swift kick to his lower back sent him sprawling to the unforgiving stone at his feet. He was just able to catch sight of Ravus being forced to his knees by yet more soldiers before the breath was knocked out of him, and he couldn’t move for a moment, frozen from the shock of the force of his landing. Recovering his breath and ignoring the sickening tightness in his gut, Ignis twisted and squirmed, fighting furiously with all his might against the freezing metal gauntlets holding his cheek, shoulders, back, and legs to the ground and groaning in pain as yet another pair of hands twisted his arms behind his back roughly, rendering him completely immobile and helpless. His entire body trembling with fatigue and terror, he summoned some spark of courage from somewhere deep within him as he did his best to grit his teeth against the rain falling into his eyes and glare up at his enemy.

The Chancellor. Ignis hadn’t been terribly surprised to see him in his vision, as they’d only needed the proof to be certain that he was the embodiment of the darkness Noct would have to face. No—what had surprised him was that he had likely murdered Lady Lunafreya, leaving Noct untouched before taking off in his ship, and had now returned. But _why_ had he returned? To finish the job he‘d started? Where had he gone? Something didn’t add up, but despite all his best efforts to remain calm as the Chancellor loomed over him, he couldn’t come up with any answer besides the fact screaming through his head: Noct was in grave danger.

Desperate for assistance, he lowered the wall in his mind to call the one person in the entire multiverse he knew without question would come running—not only because she was obligated to save Noct and preserve Time, but because Ignis knew in his heart that she would come if he asked, no matter what he did or felt toward her. He reached out, feeling for her mind lost somewhere among the streets of Altissia.

Pain. She was mad with it. He couldn’t see properly through the blurry haze of tears in her eyes, but he could feel her very skin lit with streaks of burning fire—down her arms and legs, across her back, over her ribs—and she was letting it fuel the agony in her hearts as her hands slapped around the helm of a man and snatched his chin to the side, snapping his neck in two and nearly ripping it clean from his shoulders. As the corpse dropped to her feet and she registered his return, she froze, the physical and emotional agony vanishing instantly from his sight as she waited warily for him to speak.

_Laura. Noct’s in trouble and I can’t get to him. He needs your help._

_I’m coming._

His view of the Chancellor’s sneering face was blocked by the black sole of a heavy boot fast approaching his face. “The game’s up my boy,” he heard the Chancellor croon before darkness consumed him for the second time that day.

He could feel her frantic thoughts as she raced through the city streets, the edges of the world turning gold as buildings whipped by faster than he could discern them. Rose? Laurelín? Beloved wife or betrayer of trust? But no, he had told himself less than two weeks ago that duty must always come first, had he not? Duty to the world, to time, over even Noct, over even King Regis those two days he’d been sent back to Insomnia. How could he possibly hate her for adhering to the very same standards to which he applied himself? Sorrow. Remorse. Regret. Forgiveness. So many thoughts and emotions swirling disorganized in his disoriented head like a swift and treacherous river that he wasn’t certain whose emotions were whose.

He had been in the middle of something rather important, hadn’t he? But he was so very tired. It felt as though he were being pulled under, and as much as he wanted to surrender to the inky blackness of rest, there was something he was supposed to be doing—if only he could remember what it was.

Laura seemed to pull at the threads of his consciousness, gathering them together and yanking hard.

 _Fight! Stay awake!_ she snarled. _Don’t give up!_

He gasped and opened his eyes, his blurry vision slowly coming into focus on the Chancellor squatting over him, a wicked smile painted across his tilted face. Something thicker than rain was sliding into his right eye, down the bridge of his nose, and over his lower lip, and a vague sort of numb pain seemed to pulsate from those general areas of his face. As he turned his head to meet the Chancellor’s eyes, he realized his face felt too light. Of course, his glasses had been stomped on, likely shattering and burying the shards of glass into his skin.

“Come now,” the Chancellor said softly, toying with the point of a dagger—not quite a threat just yet, but a suggestion. “Why not follow your liege’s lead and stop resisting?”

Grunting with effort against the hands that held him fast to the ground, he managed to eject, “Never!”

“You risked life and limb to safeguard the ‘King of Kings,’ only to witness him fail so spectacularly,” the Chancellor sighed, standing to take a couple of swaggering steps to Noct before kneeling at his head. “You must be so disappointed. I know I am.”

“Un—hand him!” Ignis spat, but his threatening tone had no teeth behind it, bound impotent as he was.

“Oh, what good is a world that only ever lets you down? Why not end it all right here?”

Gently lifting Noct’s head from the stone by the back of his neck, the Chancellor raised the dagger high above Noct’s chest, poised to strike, and what seemed every vision Ignis had had since he was a boy flashed in his mind’s eye in that moment—every solitary assassination attempt he had dreamed up as he lay alone in the quiet night. But he’d never been paralyzed like this—completely immobile and helpless. Where was Laura? Had it really only been a minute or so since he’d called to her? Desperation and terror clawed its way up from his guts to his throat.

“No . . . you can’t! Noooooooct!”

_I’m coming as fast as I can. I’m close._

A metallic thunk interrupted his howl, cutting it off as his dagger, which had been previously buried in Ravus’s arm, buried itself in the stone next to him. The Chancellor squinted at it, tilting his head for a moment as he slowly lowered his striking hand.

Whipping his head to Ravus, the Chancellor mused, “My, you two certainly have become fast friends.” Ignis let out a huff of a breath as the Chancellor dropped Noct’s unconscious body and sauntered to where Ravus stood with teeth and fists clenched.

But Ignis had stopped paying attention to Ravus and the Chancellor, because as Noct’s limp hand flopped to the floor and his fingers loosened, a tinkle and clink had danced teasingly across Ignis’s ears, and that gunmetal grey ring he’d seen on the hand of the King his entire life bounced mere feet from his face. That image of the Lucii on the crest, holding the crystal core of a rayed sun, seemed to whisper to him. _Use me. Save him._

So, this was how he would die. He was about to put on the Ring and forge a contract with the very entities that had helped bring them to this accursed moment, and as he wasn’t of royal blood, they would no doubt take his life in payment. It would be a price he would pay gladly if it meant seeing Noct, seeing the world, safe.

Laura was still an option, however; even now he could feel her presence, her aura growing ever closer. The Ring would certainly be a last resort, but he needed it in his hands if it were to even be considered a tool in his arsenal. Summoning blades would be of little use, as his hands were still pinned to his back. He called on his bonds with the Crystal, attempting to bring to life the sparking lightning that could electrocute those holding his hands down, but he’d surrendered too much of himself in the fight against Ravus and every other battle he’d endured today to produce more than a spark.

Astrals, he was so exhausted. Even in his current state of peril, he was fighting to keep his eyes open. Distantly, he noted that he was running out of time to take advantage of Ravus’s distraction. The Chancellor had raised a fist, vicious purple and black miasma pouring off his hand like rolling fog, and thrust it into Ravus’s chest, sending the High Commander flying back and slamming into the column behind him.

Ignis was about to attempt another round of slamming his body against the stone to twist out of the soldiers’ grip when Laura snapped at him, _By the light of all the stars, stop._

She slammed to the ground hard, going down on one knee to soften the blow, between Ardyn and Noct.

 _Free me first; I can help,_ he said to her. There was still so much more he needed to say to her, so much more she still needed to say to him, but even if one or both of them died in the next few moments, they had run out of time.

_Of course. I only ask you don’t commit suicide unless absolutely necessary. Forging a contract with the immortal that loves you, at least, will spare your life._

Attempting to blink away the blood dripping into his eye, he caught sight of her as she turned toward him, pausing only just long enough to place a web of glittering protection around Noct’s body.

And he didn’t recognize her.

Frigid blue fire seemed to emanate from her baleful eyes, glaring coldly feral from a death mask made of spatters of her crystalline blood and the deep red of those she’d slain since he’d last laid eyes on her. Her bodysuit was in tatters, nearly dripping with that pearlescent crimson as the rain made a halfhearted attempt to wash her clean. Even her hair, which seemed to have long ago lost its clip, was hanging loose and soaked in blood and water.

A split second before she warped in his direction in a silhouette of blue, intent on bowling through the man holding Ignis’s face to the ground, Ignis saw movement out of the corner of his eye. The Chancellor had finished with Ravus and was raising a miasmic hand, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face as he sent the purple-black ball of flame in the direction of the soldier for which she was aiming.

 _Behind you!_ Ignis warned as she appeared again in a whoosh, but oh _gods_ he felt it as it hit her. She’d had no time to recover from the warp as the spell carried her momentum past Ignis’s prone body, through the soldier, and face first into the column behind him.

And then he felt nothing.

It was though someone had reached into his head and clawed her golden thread from his protesting brain, leaving behind a torn and bloodied chasm of aching emptiness, loneliness, pain, death—oh the agony in his head threatened to consume him as dark spots swam in his vision, but he bit into his lip, drawing more blood from his wound in an effort to keep himself from drowning in the loss. She was _gone_. Had the Chancellor killed her? It was as though he couldn’t gain purchase on his existence any longer; he was slipping in the dark, reaching out, but all he found was anguish and nausea.

 _Rose!_ he screamed into the void, but all he heard was the echo of his own panic.

With slow, exaggerated steps, the Chancellor sashayed toward them, flicking a casual hand against Noct’s shield with a soft-spoken, “How interesting.”

Convinced that Noct was no longer the focus of this play, Ignis was able to flip his head to see her, refusing to believe that she was . . . no, she simply couldn’t be.

She lay cheek-down on the ground, her expression slack and her eyes half-lidded and vacant, and Ignis’s mind simply stopped for a moment, not even attempting to comprehend what her appearance and the state of his head implied.

“Well, well, well,” Ardyn sang as he approached her prone form, giving her a swift kick to the ribs to roll her over onto her back. “If it isn’t our dear Prince’s most special retainer. I was so hoping you would make an appearance, and what an appearance it was! A sanguine beauty indeed.”

He crouched down by her head, running a gentle finger over the curve of her cheek, and Ignis raised his head high, slamming it against the stone in an effort to build enough momentum to shake off the hands still holding him, to no avail.

“What’s the matter?” he purred, smearing the blood on her cheek down to her chin with a fingertip. “No pretty words for me this evening?”

“Don’t touch her!” Ignis snarled, still struggling against his captors.

“Now now, no struggling from you. It may be too late for the two of you, but I might be amenable to sparing your beloved Noctis—if you behave.”

Laura gasped a deep breath in a groaning shudder, her back arching off the ground as she inhaled. The Chancellor made no move to stop her as she turned to her side, bracing herself as she gagged and convulsed.

Ignis could still barely see past the roaring pain and emptiness in his head, but she was _alive_ at least. However, the relief that pulsed through him at the thought allowed him to fully register the Chancellor’s words, wiping it away only to be replaced with dread as he finally realized why the Chancellor had returned to the altar.

Oh, gods, what had he done?

This had never been about Noct; the Chancellor had already left him here untouched once today. He’d been helping the group along because he needed something from them—the blessings of the gods, perhaps? Noct’s reunion with the Crystal? Some other act that would set the prophecy in motion? It didn’t matter in this moment what he needed, because whatever it was, it guaranteed Noct’s safety.

This entire scene, from the moment the Chancellor had appeared on the altar as Gladio, had been a charade—a ruse to lure Laura here, perhaps even to taunt Ignis into becoming desperate enough to use the Ring and kill himself. _This_ was why he’d come back to the altar. And Ignis had fallen for it—called her here—desperate to protect his liege and unknowingly delivering her to the most dangerous creature on Eos.

It seemed betrayal was their theme today, though hers hadn’t directly resulted in the loss of life as his had, only a gross withholding of information. Ignis may as well have driven the steel into her hearts himself.

The Chancellor turned his head toward Ignis, a slow, beatific smile spreading wide over his lips. “I think it’s time we tell him the truth, don’t you? Tell your dear friend that you’ve known all along who and what I am?” His hand moved to her hair, stroking gently as though she were a docile, beloved pet.

Why was she so still?

“How you all have suffered so on this ordained expedition of yours, grasping as blinded beggars, reaching out for a goal hidden deliberately from your view by her—” he looked down tenderly at her still slack face, “—and her siblings. That cold heart of hers could have wiped away your ignorance and adversity with a wave of a hand.”

While his words weren’t entirely untrue, Ignis was already aware of the reasons why she hadn’t. She’d volunteered for this mission altruistically because she’d wanted to help, and in return, she’d only received the iron mantle of forbidden knowledge and scorn. “Whatever your quarrel with the Six, you’re mistaken. She is _not_ Shiva. She has nothing to do with _any_ of this. Let her go!”

“Ignorant whelp!” the Chancellor growled, the mischievous persona dropping from his visage and tone as he whipped a hand behind him, grasped Laura’s throat, and dragged her bodily to Ignis’s face.

 _Rose,_ he mouthed as her deadened eyes met his, but she made no indication that she’d seen or heard him.

“Even if you’re too insensate to feel her aura . . .. _Look_ at her—the ichor of a goddess—her very veins run through with ice!” He shook her by the throat in frustration, slapping her skull against the stone as her neck flopped like a rag doll.

Ignis closed his eyes, blocking out the sight until the thudding ceased. As it was, it was only her hoarse whisper that made it worth it to open them to her expressionless face again—until he registered her words.

“Don’t say another word. It’s too late.”

“Indeed it is!” the Chancellor crowed, rising to his feet and pulling her up by the throat along with him. He scoffed, looking down his nose at Ignis. “’Shiva, the Glacian, gentle as snow.’ You mortals are disappointingly dense. Winter is frigid, biting, deadly—or she _was_. Not going to bite me now, are you, my dear?”

Bringing the hand that wasn’t around her throat to her cheek in a grotesque mockery of a loving caress, he murmured, “So very beautiful—full of gold and ice and fire.” He dug his fingertips deeper into her skin. “Let us speed things along, shall we? We could be here for weeks at this rate, and I’m certain you’re most eager to join your husband in my thrall.”

 _No, no, gods, please,_ Ignis thought to himself as a dark web of veins spread across her face and down her neck. He’d infected her, and she wasn’t immune, clearly.

And for the second time that day, Ignis realized that he had been wrong about the foundations of his relationship with her. He’d married her believing he could keep his love and devotion for her completely separate from the rest of his life, and how foolish and naïve was he to believe he could compartmentalize something so all-consuming?  He would gladly lay down and die right now to save her life if it weren’t for his duty to Noct. Doomed to die or not, his brother still had a difficult journey ahead of him that Ignis needed to be present for. But assuming he lived through this, he was going to be half a man for the rest of his life—half of even what he’d been before meeting her.

Because he saw it now; the Chancellor was going to use her to kill him—unless he could somehow kill her first.

But surely, she must have some measure of defense? _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus,_ she had said. ‘Never tickle a sleeping dragon,’ and he knew the meaning of that all too well after having met Eilendil. There was always the possibility that she would regenerate, and by the gods, he’d never thought he’d wish for her to become another person so desperately—at least then he wouldn’t have killed her permanently, merely this body. But what if she regenerated without healing? Would he have to endure killing all thirteen of her bodies before she finally succumbed to death?

Even thinking of it ripped at his soul.

His thoughts turned briefly to the Ring behind him. He would need something to burn his soul away in order to make this possible, but even with the Power of Kings at his hands, the chances that he could defeat her were slim. He doubted the gods would grant the Old Kings a weapon with the power to defeat them, and she was just as powerful as the Six. The Old Kings might not have even granted him the power, as Noct wasn’t currently directly in harm’s way because of her. Ignis would have to rely on her strength of mind to fight the scourge enough—to allow him to do what must be done.

The inky blackness had spread to her sclera now and had turned her sapphire irises to a muddy brown. Sticky, heavy waves of ink dripped from her eyes like putrid tears and gushed from her nostrils. It couldn’t end like this. His last personal words to her had been flung at her in irrational, misplaced hatred. She couldn’t die thinking he’d meant them.

It was as though she’d heard his thoughts and responded. “Ithīr,” she whimpered in shuddering sobs, thick black tears rolling down her pale cheeks and hitting the stone at her toes brushing the ground. “Tye méla. I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.” 

That terror and pain in her voice tore at the protector and healer in him, the husband in him. He’d so recently held those cheeks between his palms and declared his undying love for her. How had it all gone so wrong so quickly? He recognized some of the words from her bonding vows, and despite the risk, he had to send some message back to her—even if the Chancellor heard it. She couldn’t die thinking he’d turned on her, and she needed some message to let her know that he would keep fighting if she did. He couldn’t risk repeating the words back to her; they would sound too much like a vow of love, so he whispered the one word he was familiar with that he thought represented the same sentiment, praying that her acute hearing would pick it up over the sound of her gasps, the rain slapping on the stone, and his own heart shattering.

“Oialë.” _Forever, Rose. I forgive you. Please, forgive me. Please, don’t go._

“Sorry?” the Chancellor asked in a dangerously low voice, his lip curling in a snarl as his fingers tightened around her throat. “You curse me to heal the land of your scourge, allow it to consume me, then toss me aside for two millennia, and you’re _sorry_?! Yes, my dear one, you will be sorry.”

Laura’s mouth fell open in a silent scream, the oily black scourge frothing from her lips, dripping down her chin and throat before writhing like a living serpent wrapping itself around her chest. She seemed to have lost the will to fight, however, as she convulsed limply in violent shudders between Ardyn’s hands.

“That’s it . . .,” the Chancellor cooed. “Just let go.” Removing the hand that wasn’t around her throat to brush the knotted, soaking hair back from her face, he murmured, “So alluring, so very delicate, but a clever disguise for all that power, yes? What a stunning daemon you’ll make for me to toy with, and just imagine how much pleasure I’ll take from you! Can you imagine how heartbroken the dear little Prince will be when I use you to kill his precious advisor?”

Laura seemed to be trying to say something, her mouth opening and closing like a gasping fish as she continued retching against the flood of scourge pouring from her mouth. With a tilt of the head, the Chancellor stopped the flow from her lips. “Well, go ahead, my dear. I’ll allow you a final word.” 

She took in a deep, hitching breath. “Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray,” she choked on a rushed exhale. “Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

A message. One last message, and Ignis understood. Likely one of her allusions, it meant she was still there, and she wasn’t going down without a fight—neither should he. But she would be going down; for all she would rage against it, the light would die. And it had been entirely his fault. 

Taking a moment to sneer at Ignis, the Chancellor leaned in and pushed his lips against hers, a flood of miasma just barely visible as his mouth moved over hers. Ignis couldn’t help but take a moment to nurse that niggling doubt in the back of his mind as Laura’s hands moved to cup the sides of the Chancellor’s head, and his vision clouded over in tears, mixing with the rainwater and gooey coagulation over his eye before falling to the altar he could soon be sacrificed on. Had he already taken control of her mind? Selfish as it was, the only thought stabbing through his torn and emptied mind was that if she failed, they would die alone; they wouldn’t even have the comfort of each other’s minds in the end. 

He could just make out her outline as she ripped her mouth away from the Chancellor’s and let out a high, clear, animalistic scream. Seemingly everlasting and radiating with her silver and gold power, it was a primal sound that rocked Ignis down to his bones. Streams of silver and gold light poured from her claws, now digging into the sides of the Chancellor’s face, and in contrast to Laura’s grotesque visage, that purity poured from the Chancellor’s eyes, nose, and mouth in a brilliant ray of incandescence.

Both mouths open wide and screaming, the cacophony built until the Chancellor’s body exploded in a shower of stars.

The last thing Ignis saw before he felt a blow to the back of his head was his beloved wife, her infected eyes rolling up in her head as she fell on the stone next to his unconscious brother.


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Angst. There’s going to be angst for a bit. Also, possible character death.

The slapping and pounding of his feet through puddles and over the stone was all Prompto could hear as he followed behind Gladio, finally reaching the walkway that would lead them to the altar. He was surprised he still had anything left at all in him to run, soaked, chafed, and exhausted as he was; he felt disconnected from his feet as though they were being controlled by someone else, as though his body were being driven by nothing but terror alone. They’d been through hell these past several hours, meeting wave after wave of imperial troops with nothing but Gladio’s sword and his gravity well plus, and to say that he was about to drop would be the understatement of the century.

He’d thought he was gonna die when they’d been cornered in that flower shop with ten civilians, surrounded by three platoons of soldiers intent on ripping them to shreds. As it was, they’d lost half the people hiding behind them in the bloody assault, with no break in the incoming fire to even get back to where they were trying to take cover and revive them. Prompto had died twice already and Gladio once, and while the rush from the phoenix downs they’d taken quickened his reflexes and steeled his nerve, they both knew they’d be fucked if they happened to both die at the same time.

After what felt like forever, it had seemed like the number of shots into the building started decreasing quickly—a little too quickly for how much headway he was making with sucking a few of the soldiers inside at a time and having Gladio finish them off—when Laura sauntered in, that sunny bright smile plastered on her face as she dripped with red and pearly blood.

“Hiya guys! Man, this place sucks! Didja miss me?”

Prompto knew that smile; it was the same one he’d glue to his own lips when he felt like shit, the same one he was beaming back at her.

Things got better with the three of them together until they’d managed to jump their way over what was left of the bridge to the Finangia District and fight their way toward Padore. Prompto couldn’t tell what had caused the sudden change, but Laura had lost her fucking mind. She hadn’t started babbling like she had on Ravatogh; she’d gone wild, leaping at entire squads of soldiers without even summoning a weapon and ripping them apart with her bare hands before warping to the next, tears in her eyes and an inhuman look of fury on her face. Prompto had always known that potential was in there; he’d seen it in her eyes every time she fought daemons, but being so close while it happened made _him_ a little scared every time she got near him. Even Gladio had tried to lighten her up a little with a “Steady on there, Princess,” but she acted like she hadn’t even heard him.

It was when she’d suddenly frozen in the middle of the Padore District and looked toward the altar, saying in a calm, cold voice, “They’re in trouble. Follow as fast as you can,” before taking off in a whirl of gold that Prompto really began to get scared. They’d long ago lost contact with Noct and Iggy, so the fact that she could feel something like that with her mind from that far away could only mean really, really bad things.

Just like the fact that he could now see Ravus being held by imperial soldiers, two unguarded heaps on the ground, and a third heap getting hit in the back of the head with the butt of a rifle was probably the worst bad thing Prompto could have envisioned.

With a roar, Gladio summoned his greatsword and leapt at the soldier intent on bashing Iggy’s head in again, and Prompto set to work on the five soldiers holding Ravus down, aiming for the thinner metal of the face mesh to pierce their armor better. After Prompto had taken two down, Ravus seemed to recover from whatever daze he’d been in, as he stood to take care of the other three himself, freeing Prompto up to help Gladio with the . . . six? Had it really taken six grown men to hold Iggy down?

Prompto’s hands trembled in front of him as he dismissed his pistols, frozen in indecision as to who to go to first as he looked between the three of them. And _oh_ , sweet Six.

Laura.

Catching Gladio’s gaze on her black-stained face, he knew it wasn’t a hallucination. She’d been infected with Starscourge, which meant that Ardyn was somewhere nearby. Were they safe? Probably not. They needed to get out of there quick, and there was nothing Prompto could do for her. But there was still Iggy and Noct to take care of—something he could do to make himself useful.

But he couldn’t get to Noct. As Gladio knelt down in front of Iggy, flipping him over and feeling for a pulse at his neck before spreading his hand wide over his chest, Prompto fell to his knees as close as he could get to Noct, pushing at the glittering web of magic with his fingers. He’d never actually touched a Glaive shield before, and he was surprised to find it warm and humming with energy, making his hand tingle with the vibration. Pushing harder against the shimmering wall, however, made it all too clear that they weren’t going to get anywhere near Noct until they’d gotten that shield out of the way.

“His health is sound,” Ravus said from above him, and Prompto looked up to see a thoughtful expression in his cold, blue-gray and purplish eyes before they shifted over to Laura’s body. “The shield will dissipate when you’ve killed the girl.”

“Uhh . . . right,” Prompto said with a grimace. A yawning hole of heartbreak opened up in his chest at Ravus’s words and threatened to bring tears to his eyes, but he couldn’t cry like some little kid in front of the High Commander. Deep down, he’d known the second he saw her what they’d have to do, but he’d been trying not to think about it. He only hoped Gladio would be better at facing this hardened soldier shit than him, cause there was no way he’d be able to just . . . kill her when the time came.

Ravus turned to lean over Iggy, inspecting him closely as Gladio cracked a hi-potion over his chest. “Exhaustion,” Ravus said with a sharp nod when Iggy didn’t stir. Even the cuts on his face didn’t heal all the way as the magic cleared from his body. How long had it been since he was injured? How bad was his exhaustion that a potion wouldn’t work right on him? “He’ll be all right.”

Without another word, Ravus straightened and began striding back toward the city. “Wait,” Prompto called after him. “Where’re you going?” Was he really not going to tell them any more than that?

He turned back just long enough to say, “I’ve a calling to fulfill. As do you. May fortune favor us all.” After a brief pause, he looked down to where Noct lay still on the stone, his wet, slack face glowing blue in the light of Laura’s web. “And you as well, Noctis.” With a final sweep of his eyes over the gruesome scene, he spun on his heel and stalked away.

Gladio heaved a sigh and stood, walking with slow, heavy steps to where Laura lay still a few feet away. Prompto scrambled to his feet, following after him. He wasn’t just gonna . . . do it right here and now, was he?

“Isn’t there something we can do?” Prompto asked, panic beginning to tighten his chest and make his voice come out high-pitched in that way he’d always hated, but sounding cool was the last thing on his mind right now.

Gladio summoned his sword and hefted it over his shoulder, looking down at Laura with his face scrunched and nostrils flared in pain. Inhaling deeply, he raised his eyes to the sky, and Prompto could’ve sworn he saw tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It was hard to tell, since Prompto’s own vision had grown blurry.

“Fuck,” Gladio groaned. “We know exactly what we gotta do. She told us herself back with that guy. I just . . . I just dunno if I can do it and ever look Iggy in the face again.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Prompto sniffled. “She was s’posed to be indestructible.”

Gladio rubbed at his eyes before grasping the hilt of his sword tightly with both hands. “We gotta protect the people,” he said under his breath as though steeling himself.

Laura’s terrifying eyes snapped open—black and piercing and dripping—and he jumped back, yelping in shock at the suddenness of the movement and the fact that he was standing close enough for her to grab him. As quick as Ramuh, Gladio heaved his blade off his shoulder and swung it in an arc over his head, down to Laura’s neck.

“Gladio, wait!”

Damn, there was still something of her mind left; they should’ve waited to see if Iggy would wake up so they could at least say goodbye to each other. But Prompto knew from trying to lift Gladio’s sword himself in the past that there was no way he could stop the swing he’d started, even if he wanted to.

“Fuck!” Gladio roared, bending over with the effort to change the path of the arc. It still looked to Prompto like he’d cut the top of her head off as the blade clanged against the paving stones, but Laura only shuddered violently, releasing a stream of oily black tears into her bloody hair as she closed her eyes.

“Laura!” Prompto cried, flinging himself to his knees at her side, but she recoiled from his closeness.

“Don’t touch,” she choked, her ink-and-mud eyes darting between his and Gladio’s. Prompto looked up to see that Gladio had stepped closer to her head to hear her words, but he still had his sword positioned to strike, ready to take her out at the first sign of transformation.

“Hey, we need you to remove the shield on Noct. Can you do that?” Gladio asked, his voice gentle and cracking.

Prompto jumped back again as her head lolled in his direction, but those sickly mud-brown irises focused on Noct as her eyelashes fluttered, and the web of protection around Noct flickered and disappeared.

“Healing,” she sighed up at Gladio. “Please . . .,” she paused, choking up a thick stream of black scourge before groaning, “tell Ignis . . ..”

But for as much as she seemed to want to finish what she was saying, she let out her breath in a whoosh of air as her eyes fell closed. Prompto waited for something to happen—for her to move, for her to transform, for Gladio to do something. What could they do? It wasn’t like a potion could cure her, even if she could take one.

“She said ‘healing,’ so that means we don’t have to kill her, right?” Prompto asked, leaning in a little closer to inspect the black handprint on her face for signs of it going away.

Gladio rubbed a hand over his face wearily, spreading the dust and blood in finger-shaped smears over his face. “Gods damnit. I dunno. She can do a lotta weird alien shit, but this? We’d have to trust she’s not gonna change into a daemon and kill us all. And it doesn’t even look like she’s breathing anymore.”

Prompto whipped his head back down to see that Gladio was right—she was completely still, her chest not even rising and falling with breaths. That was a bad sign. Did daemons breathe? As many times as he’d been in battle with them, he couldn’t really say he’d ever taken the time to notice. But if she wasn’t transforming or disappearing or whatever, that had to mean she was dead, right? That feeling of panic and loss was threatening to overwhelm him again in a way it hadn’t since Insomnia, but he was so damn tired and sick, it was like numbness was also fighting for dominance in his head. There was no way he was gonna come up with a plan—that was always Iggy’s thing, so he looked up to Gladio.

“So what’re we gonna do now?”

Gladio turned to face the path that led back to the Pitra District, seeming to look for something. As a section of Accordion soldiers picked their way over piles of rubble toward them, Gladio muttered, “We call in some reinforcements.”

Inserting a thumb and forefinger into the corners of his lips, he blew hard, emitting a shrill whistle that Prompto had always been jealous of, which immediately caught the attention of the six soldiers and sent them scurrying faster in their direction.

“Sir!” they all barked simultaneously when they’d reached the altar, standing at attention.

“You,” Gladio said, nodding to the closest soldier. “Report.” At his words, that heartbreak swelled in Prompto’s chest again, remembering Laura saying the very same thing in the very same tone just a few hours ago. It had been as much of a shock to hear her say it then as it was for Gladio to be saying it like that now, but he guessed they were all soldiers now in this war they didn’t want to be a part of.

“Imperial forces have withdrawn, sir. We’ve been placed on search, rescue, and cleanup.”

“The Leville still standing?”

“Yes, sir. All bridges in Altissia have been targeted and destroyed, but most infrastructural damage was concentrated on this isle alone.”

“You got a boat?”

“It’s how we got here, sir.”

“Okay, you see those two men over there?” he asked, pointing to where Noct and Iggy lay on the stone. “They both just saved your asses, and as much as I would love to be the one to take ‘em back myself, I gotta take care of some stuff. So you guys and Prompto here are gonna have to do it.” He paused for a moment, seeming to grow taller as he stood over the soldier. “You fail me? I’m gonna have to track you down and take care of _you_ myself. Got it?”

As the soldier’s eyes hardened into resolve and he nodded, Prompto hoped that he could one day be able to just take charge like that. Even if he was technically Crownsguard, with more training and battle experience than even an Accordion commander, he was still only a private, and just an honorary one at that. But if he’d learned anything today working with the lost and terrified soldiers, it was that command was mostly about looking like he knew what the hell he was doing, of giving the appearance of confidence.

It was a skill Prompto had perfected since he was a kid.

“Yeah, you guys with me. You carry them while I cover you,” he said, rising to his feet, puffing his chest out, and standing tall.

“Yes, sir!” they barked in unison, and Prompto had to frown just to cover up the self-satisfied smile that wanted to cross his face. But then he looked down at Laura again, frail and helpless and _dead_ , and the reality of their situation came crashing back down on him.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked Gladio quietly.

“Got the thermal suit I can use to carry her. Gonna take her somewhere safe, but I gotta get on the horn with Claustra to see where that’ll be. Get ‘em settled in the hotel and keep guard. I’ll join you when I secure her.”

“So you’re not gonna kill her?”

“She’s already dead, from the looks of it,” Gladio said with a sigh. “But if I can make her safe, we can keep her body around and see if she performs one of her crazy ass miracles.”

“Here’s hoping,” he said softly.

He’d been ‘the new guy’ in the group, the last one to really get to know them all five years ago when he’d finally worked up the courage to approach Noct, until Laura joined them. She’d given him a sense of seniority, a sense that his opinion and approval mattered. She’d become like a sister to him, even if they’d only known her . . . damn, had it only been two and a half months? It felt more like two and a half decades. And Iggy . . . Six, this was gonna kill him. Prompto sure hoped he already kinda knew what had happened to her, because if Iggy woke up while Gladio was gone, Prompto sure didn’t wanna have to be the one to tell him his girlfriend was either dead or a dead daemon.

Prompto kept his pistols drawn the entire boat ride back to the Leville, the whine of the little engine through the debris-filled waters the only sound in the deserted, smoking city. It felt weird seeing the now-familiar sight of charred remnants of bridges and rubble in the part of the city they’d spent most of their time in. But beyond all the street decorations and furniture being missing and some chunks of buildings from when Leviathan had done her suction tornado thing, everything was quiet, untouched. He could almost pretend they’d just gone through a really bad storm, if it weren’t for the memories and his paranoid trigger fingers.

It felt like he didn’t even take a breath until Iggy and Noct were safely placed on one of the beds in their suite, and even then, Prompto thought he’d heard a thousand mysterious bangs and thuds as he took a shower, washing the grime and blood and guts from his skin and wishing the entire time he could do the same to his memory as he finally let go and sobbed silently into the cool shower tiles. He cried for how indescribably shitty today had been, for his own lost innocence, for whatever Iggy and Noct had gone through to make them like this, and especially for Laura. He’d had to put a lid on his grief twice in those fifteen minutes to wrap a towel around himself and double check that the door to the suite was still locked and Iggy and Noct were still okay. His eyes swollen, his face hot, and his skin nearly scrubbed raw, he sure as fuck didn’t feel very clean as he got dressed in his PJs.

He wished Gladio was there—he’d feel a lot more settled having backup. No one ever left him in charge of anything, and it felt weird being the one to watch over both Noct and Iggy, two of his own family that were way more powerful and talented than he was. And seeing them helpless like this as he took off their boots and socks—it was like having the lives of his brothers and heroes in his hands. No matter what, he couldn’t, wouldn’t let them down.

He hesitated for a moment when it came time to take off their clothes. He’d seen Noct undressed a thousand times in the locker rooms after P.E. in school, but it still felt like kind of a violation to do it himself while Noct was unconscious. And Iggy . . . the first time he’d seen any of Iggy’s bare skin besides his arms and feet was when he’d climbed up onto the boat in nothing but his swim shorts. Not only did he always consider Iggy way less approachable than Noct, Iggy was always just so _proper,_ so put together, so covered.

But they were wet, completely filthy, and probably cold, and Prompto _had_ to do something for them. Iggy especially would hate being in bed filthy like this.

He started with Noct first, doing his best to dry him off and not really focus on anything as he redressed him. Iggy, of course, took longer, since he was a freaking mess. It was as he’d wrestled the upper half of Iggy’s body forward and was pulling a t-shirt over his head that Prompto felt two hands fist themselves in his shirt.

“Noct!” Iggy gasped.

“Iggy! I’m so sorry! You were wet and dirty and I didn’t think you’d wanna be in bed like tha—”

“Where’s Noct?”

“He’s right next to you. He’s gonna be okay.”

“The bridge,” Iggy said in a strangled voice, burying his face into Prompto’s chest. “The bridge is _gone_. Oh, gods, it’s been ripped away, and it’s so dark—so dark and cold. All my fault, all my fault.”

Prompto patted him gently on the back as Iggy clutched desperately at his shirt. It started to hurt a little when Iggy moved his hands to grip Prompto’s arms—the blunt tips of his fingers digging desperately into his skin—so he pulled himself free as gently as he could, pushing Iggy to lie back on the bed. The expression on his face was one Prompto had never dreamed him capable of—wild with sickly green, darting eyes and waxy pale face. He looked insane.

“It’s okay, Iggy. You survived the bridge, remember?” Prompto said, summoning Laura’s blanket to put over him. Maybe, he’d calm down, stop whipping his head back and forth and rubbing his face, if Prompto could just get him warm and comfortable.

“I survived. I’ll always survive to do my duty, but _Astrals_ , how will I live? The dawn has set, and the light of the stars is not enough to see by.” His voice grew louder as he began thrashing on the bed, panting and tearing at his hair. “I wielded the blade that slaughtered the sun for shining, ripped the petals from the rose for pricking myself on her thorns. I deserve no less than to be cast out, forever the bane of the goddess, the harbinger of death!”

“Iggy . . . please. Stop,” Prompto pleaded, his lip trembling at the thought of the anguish he must be in to act like this—what he must’ve gone through today—and it was only gonna get worse from here. He had no idea what Iggy meant by his words, but this hopeless agony could only be about Laura.

“The first test of my honor, and I . . .. Soiled and stained, cursed and defiled, blighted! Betrayer! Oath breaker!”

There was nothing for it; he seemed to be getting worse the longer he was awake. Doing his best to hold Iggy down with one hand, Prompto summoned a syringe of sedative with his other. He’d never actually given anyone a shot before, especially thrashing around like Iggy was, but as he jammed the needle into Iggy’s thigh and pressed the plunger, it only took a few seconds for Prompto to know he’d done it right. Iggy’s flailing grew clumsy and slow before he finally stilled and closed his eyes.

“Just rest,” Prompto whispered. “Noct’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Hopefully, he’d have some better news to tell him about Laura when he woke up again. Fuck, what the hell happened on that altar? They hadn’t even heard anything about Lunafreya yet. Could it be both her and Laura Iggy was freaking out about?

“Duty first. Dark and cold, my fault,” Iggy whimpered before sighing and going limp.

There wasn’t much to do after he’d wrestled the two of them under the covers, taking extra time to rub Iggy’s arms to generate some friction. He sat at the desk, watching the moonlight shine down on the curling tendrils of smoke rising from the isle where it all had happened and trying really hard not to think of the day he’d stood on the overlook and watched his home burn.

His home. There was no doubt about it now; he was Lucian, and he’d fought in the battle to prove it. After everything they’d all been through together and seeing how surprised the other guys were to find out that Insomnia wasn’t exactly friendly to outsiders, Prompto had been considering just getting it over with and telling them he’d been born in Niflheim. There was still the slim chance they’d think him a traitor, but hell, after he’d seen how Noct and Iggy had been with Aranea, he was starting think they’d give anyone decent a chance. Prompto would never be great—it was just a fact of his life—but he could do decent, at least.

But he shoulda told them before all this happened, when they were all safe and together and alive. No one was gonna wanna hear about his shit now, with Noct recovering from his ordeal and Iggy losing his mind. And then Laura . . . he was still holding out hope for her, but if she really did die, it would gut them all.

All those dark thoughts were still swimming in his head when he heard the lock jiggle behind him, jarring him from the silence of the hotel room. Prompto flung himself behind the armchair, summoning a random gun to point a shaking, exhausted hand at the door, but he immediately dismissed it with a sigh when he saw Gladio’s bulk shuffling in. Gladio froze when he spotted Prompto, probably wondering why the hell he was crouched behind an armchair, but he seemed to figure it out and gave him an approving nod.

“How’s Laura?” Prompto asked as Gladio staggered toward the bathroom door. He thought he knew the answer though, as Gladio turned on the bathroom light to reveal his puffy, red-rimmed eyes.

“Dead,” Gladio replied in a tone that matched his response. “Once we got her settled, got a stethoscope and shit. No heartbeat, or heartbeats, or whatever; no blood pressure; no respiration. She’s gone.”

“Umm . . .,” he began as he looked up to the ceiling, trying to keep the tears from falling again. They seemed to come automatically, as he didn’t really feel anything besides a shocked numbness of denial. “Where is she?”

“Took some convincing,” Gladio said, removing his jacket and tossing it on the floor. “The Secretary wanted to execute her. Might’ve had to make up some birdshit story about her being ordained by the gods to assist the Chosen King of Light to defeat the heart of darkness and retain the Orb of Bemusement, or something, but I got her locked and chained in the lowest level of the prison.”

“She’s in Stonecage?” Prompto asked in horror.

Prompto didn’t know a lot about foreign countries, but _everyone_ knew about Stonecage. It was featured in every TV show about prison, used as a threat to every kid who did something bad—it was even in the title of the third book of a famous magical book series—Hirtus Plastes and the Prisoner of Stonecage. Buried deep in a high cliff island in the middle of the sea just off the city of Altissia, Stonecage was known as the highest-security prison on Eos for the worst criminals in the world. The thought of Laura chained in one of those vaults was . . . unthinkable.

“Safest place I could think of. She shouldn’t be able to escape if she transforms.”

Prompto shook his head in disbelief. “That’s so awful.”

He had to awkwardly look back toward the bedroom as Gladio dropped his pants and stepped into the shower. Even if Gladio didn’t seem to care, Prompto would never get used to how casually he’d just strip down like that. He would’ve left him to shower in private, but Prompto really wanted to hear everything he had to say. There had to be _some_ good news about all this crap.

“Better than a beheading,” Gladio said with a sigh as he turned the water on. “Easier on me too. Kept practicing what I was gonna tell Iggy the whole time I’ve been gone. He stir at all yet?”

“He . . . he did wake up,” Prompto said in a small voice as steam and the scent of soap began filling the room, warming him a little. It felt like he’d been chilled ever since he’d gotten back to the hotel room, even during his own shower. “He was yelling for Noct and about bridges and roses—I have no idea. Tried to calm him down, but he’d lost it. I had to sedate him. I think I gave him enough to knock him out all night.”

“Good, probably gonna be the only rest he gets for a while. You go ahead and get some sleep. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Okay,” he said reluctantly as he turned to head to the empty bed. After the events of the day, he wasn’t really ready to be alone again, even if it was only for a minute or two. What the hell was wrong with him? It wasn’t like he was some kinda little kid or something. But he drew back the covers anyway and settled into the mattress, trying to get comfortable.

He’d wrestled with the images of blood and gore and death until they’d started fading into the background of his mind and was starting to doze when he heard Gladio’s thumping feet on the carpet and the dip of the mattress as he crawled into the bed. As Gladio stilled, Prompto thought he heard a deep, shuddering sigh, but that couldn’t be right, could it? As tired as they all were, Gladio was invincible—hadn’t even shed a tear when Insomnia fell and his dad died. There’d been something different about today, though—something even more violent and bloody than the Fall, worse than all the bases they’d busted down, that had taken both Gladio and Iggy out.

“You okay?” Prompto asked, looking over to see the outline of Gladio’s tense face in the dim light.

“Yeah. S’just . . . one word. We’re basing this whole thing on her saying ‘healing.’ I sure hope we’re doing the right thing.”

“Yeah, but it’s like . . . there’s no risk now, right? With her locked up? Maybe Iggy’ll know more when he wakes up.” That was, if Iggy was back to normal when he woke up, but he didn’t wanna add that part.

“I hope so,” Gladio replied doubtfully, putting his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. “I’m usually good about putting this kinda shit behind me and doing what I need to do. But between you and me? I got nothin’. No plan.”

Prompto would’ve rather not heard him admit that he was just as lost as Prompto was. It was like finding out his childhood heroes on TV were nothing more than regular, everyday people pretending to be something special just to get a paycheck. Fishing around in his brain to find something that would make Gladio feel better and maybe encourage him to be that hero for them all, he was able to find one comforting thought.

“Maybe we don’t need a plan. Maybe we just need to wait.” As much as he wanted to add that it had worked out like that for Laura these last seven thousand years, he thought that maybe it would be a bad time to bring it up just now.

“Yeah,” he said on a sigh. “We’ll see.”

***

Something bright was shining in Prompto’s eye—ugh. Was the sun up already? But as he took a deep breath and prepared to open his eyes, he thought he could smell something delicious on the air, like Iggy’d gone all out for breakfast this morning—toast and miso soup, maybe even fish and rice. His eyes shot open when he realized he shouldn’t be smelling any of these things, but he couldn’t see a thing with the sun shining through a gap in the curtains and hitting him directly in the face. Bolting upright, his gaze immediately targeted a perfectly dressed and done-up Iggy placing a tray of steaming rice, fish, soup, toast, fruit, and seaweed salad on the coffee table in the parlor.

“Iggy!” Prompto cried out, leaping from the bed and nearly bowling him to the side to wrap his arms around him. “You’re okay!”

But as Iggy gently removed his hands and turned back to the breakfast tray with a soft, “Yes, good morning,” Prompto could plainly see there was nothing at all okay with Iggy. The scars on his eyebrow, nose, and lip were still angry and red, standing out viciously against his bone-white skin and sickly green eyes. Even his hands seemed to be trembling a little as he summoned the silverware and set it neatly on the tray with a gentle clinking sound.

“Iggy?” Gladio asked, stumbling up behind him and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Are there any projections for when Noct will awaken?” Iggy asked quietly, not looking up at them. “Magical exhaustion, am I correct?”

“Uh, yeah,” Gladio said uncertainly, taken by surprise at Iggy’s attitude. “Should be a day or two? Dunno exactly, but he’ll be all right.”

Iggy stared down at the tray, out of ways to make adjustments or fuss with it. “Good, good.”

Gladio and Prompto shared a look, waiting for Iggy to say something more, but he’d fallen silent. After unnecessarily straightening the lapels of his jacket, he lightly picked up a glass of juice and strode into the bedroom. Gently coaxing Noct into a sitting position and letting his head rest against his shoulder, Iggy brought the glass to Noct’s lips.

“Even more cooperative than when conscious,” he murmured with a half-quirk of the lips, but his eyes still looked dead as he spoke. “This bodes well.”

Prompto could hear Gladio’s breathing slowly pick up as Iggy got Noct to drink down the entire glass before tucking him like a kid back into the blankets, pulling the covers back up to his shoulders.

“Well?” Gladio demanded when he’d returned to the parlor, irritation making his voice go all deep and rough in a way that always made Prompto a little nervous. “You even gonna ask about Laura?”

Iggy breathed in, deep and sharp, closing his eyes and curling his fingers into tight fists at his sides. “I’m certain you handled the situation as best you could. I . . . of course I wouldn’t blame you for however you did it,” he said calmly. “In fact, you have my sincerest gratitude.”

“She’s—” Gladio began, but Iggy interrupted him.

“I’d rather not . . . hear the details, for once in my life, please,” he said in a low, pained voice. “If it is at all possible, however, to safely extricate her necklace, please let me know; it is . . . beyond precious.”

“Fuck, Iggy, what the hell happened out there?!” Gladio spat, and Prompto couldn’t blame him for his tone. They all knew Laura and Iggy expressed their relationship differently than everyone else, but seeing him concerned about a damn necklace when his girlfriend was dead—and he didn’t even want to _know_ about it. He probably thought Gladio had just chopped off her head, and that was the end of it. It was what would’ve happened in any other situation. Granted, Prompto knew about her condition, and even he hated this fragile hope stabbing at his heart that she might pull off a miracle and come back to life. Maybe it was better this way if they didn’t tell him until whatever was gonna happen happened.

Ignis still had his eyes closed and his head bowed in sorrow as he nearly whispered, “The Chancellor . . . killed Lady Lunafreya and,” his voice cracked before he inhaled again, “well, you saw the rest.” He took another deep breath, seeming to collect himself before nodding sharply down at the breakfast tray.

“Well, breakfast is served. Staff will be here any minute to bring us fresh sets of sheets; ours smell of wet dog.” He turned to the desk, taking a seat and opening his laptop. “I’m afraid my mobile was ruined during the events yesterday, and I’ve been unable to reach the First Secretary on Prompto’s comm. I imagine the two of you will be out and about assisting today, so if you would please inform her that she can reach me here at the hotel until I manage to obtain a new one, and that I am at her disposal, so long as her tasks don’t require me to leave this room until His Highness has awoken.”

“You’re fucking incredible, you know that? There’s something _wrong_ with you,” Gladio said in a low, growling voice, raising both his hands in the air in surrender before turning back to the bathroom. “We’re leaving in fifteen, Prompto, so do what ya gotta, and let’s get the fuck outta here.”

Prompto hastily threw together a rice, fish, and seaweed sandwich with a quiet, “Um . . . thanks, Iggy,” before gulping it down and getting changed out of his PJs.

So Lady Lunafreya had died yesterday, too—another huge loss to them all. Even though Prompto hadn’t known her very well, she’d practically changed his life. If it hadn’t been for her letter, he never would’ve started losing weight, never introduced himself to Noct, never have become a part of this family. He’d been so looking forward to finally meeting and thanking her in person. She sounded so nice—like someone else he could’ve maybe been good friends with.

And what about Noct? Things were hardly gonna get any better when he woke up to find his fiancée was dead; this was gonna kill him just as much as losing Laura was probably killing Iggy inside, maybe even worse. Six, was this what the trip was gonna be now? Prompto and a pissed-off Gladio dragging a gutted Noct to the Crystal while Iggy did his best to pretend everything was normal?

It felt so wrong, closing the door on a stiff-backed, blank-eyed Iggy typing away at his laptop, and as Gladio stalked away with a snarl on his face, Prompto couldn’t help but say something.

“Are we gonna tell him?”

Gladio didn’t look back as he answered, “His stubborn ass doesn’t wanna know. He may not have loved her as much as I thought he did, even as much as I did, so I’m gonna keep an eye on her until he gets his shit together. Maybe after Noct wakes up, he’ll stop using his duty as a shield for his moping and pull his head out of his asshole.”

“Oh . . .,” he said awkwardly as he jogged to keep up with Gladio’s long strides. “So you and her . . ..” He’d always wondered about them, with the way they always flirted with each other, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know _this_. It felt too much like betraying Iggy.

“Not like that, fool,” he grunted, rolling his eyes. “She was family. But I guess . . . what was I gonna tell him, anyway? She’s just as dead as he thinks she is, just happened to say the word ‘healing’ before she died.” He sighed, his face relaxing from his scowl into sorrow. “I dunno, maybe it’s easier on him this way. Not allowed back in for another three days, so hopefully we can bring him some good news then, at least get his necklace.”

“Oh, so that ‘boats out there every three days’ thing is true? Weird they’d make that kinda knowledge public, don’tcha think?” he said with an uncomfortable laugh.

As they strode out of the hotel entrance and into the bright sun to find some way to make it to the First Secretary’s estate, Prompto couldn’t help but notice that Gladio was already talking about Laura in the past tense, like he’d already lost hope. Prompto hadn’t completely lost all hope yet; he was still holding out for things being better by the time Noct decided to regain consciousness.

It was another four days before Noct fully woke up, and absolutely _nothing_ had gotten better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize the altar is in the middle of the water, but I added a path. Why? Because I think too much about dumb things, and I hated the idea of everyone showing up having had to find a boat in that mess. And the swimming? This would have been a weird scene if everyone was dripping wet.


	55. Chapter 55

Noct groaned, squinting in pain against the light coming in from the windows before he’d opened his eyes, but his breath was still hitching from the dream—or the nightmare—he’d just been pulled from.

He’d been drowning, desperately swimming as hard as he could to get to her, to just _touch_ her. If he could just get close enough, maybe he could save her. But as her ethereal apparition stood serenely at the bottom of the sylleblossom field that had suddenly transformed into a swirling, painted sea, her gauzy white gown dancing in the current, he knew that nothing he did would bring him any closer.

_When you find yourself alone amid a lightless place, look to the distance. Know that I am there and that I watch over you **always**. Farewell, dear Noctis._

Reaching up with a soft, graceful hand, she released a sylleblossom into the current, where it floated gently up to him, dissolving into his dad’s ring as he reached out for it, reached out for her.

There was still some small chance the dream had just been his mind’s way of dealing with everything he’d seen before he passed out . . . how long ago? But even lying on the wreckage, so close but too far from the altar, he’d seen the dagger driven into her belly, the blood bubbling from her wound. After fighting with Leviathan and feeling himself slipping from the world, she’d been there beside him, fading fast and pouring whatever she had in order to keep his heart beating. All he’d wanted to do was protect her, and she’d ended up saving him instead. The first time he’d been tested, and he’d failed her, been the one responsible for her getting killed.

“Back with us?” a soft, familiar voice sounded to his right.

Noct cracked his heavy eyelids open and looked over to see Ignis arranged carefully in the armchair next to the bed, a stack of papers in his lap and a pen in one of his shaking hands. He had new scars on his face, which seemed to stand out against his dull, empty eyes heavy with purple rings and his pasty skin.

Pushing himself up to a sitting position to see him better, Noct asked, “Iggy, you’ve been hurt. What happened to you?”

“A few minor scrapes when my glasses were broken in the battle. Fortunately, I happened to have a spare pair,” he replied smoothly, straightening his papers before standing and heading for the door. “I’ll go tell the others you’ve awakened.”

“And Luna?” he asked, hoping against all hopes that everything he’d seen had just been a dream.

Iggy paused, not turning around to look him in the eye as he hung his head, and Noct knew before he answered, “She has passed.”

His blood turned to iron at Iggy’s words, weighing him down and making it hard for him to draw a full breath. When they’d come here for the Ring, Leviathan, and Luna, all Noct had cared about was making sure Luna stayed safe. With her gone . . . fuck, he’d throw the Ring and Leviathan’s blessing into the sea right now if it would bring her back.

Clenching his fists tightly against the tears that wanted to escape, he couldn’t help thinking how unfair it all was. Luna was so filled with light and goodness; she’d always been so kind and selfless. Why did she have to die for this world that didn’t even really care? Why’d she have to die for him? He hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell her . . . but that didn’t matter anymore, did it? Twelve years, he’d been pouring himself into that book to create that fragile thread of emotion that seemed to follow him wherever he went, and he’d lost it, lost her, just as he was starting to figure it all out.

The injustice of it all kinda pissed him off, actually.

A bruising, burning feeling in the palm of his hand let him know that he’d been squeezing something as he sat there growing more and more angry. Bringing his trembling fist closer to his face, he slowly uncurled his aching fingers, suspecting that the dream had been more real than he’d thought, given Luna’s passing. A spasm of breath seized his lungs as his dad’s—his—ring was revealed, dark and shiny and innocent-looking in his palm.

He’d seen that damn ring on his dad’s hand for years as it drained the life out of him, knowing that the burden would one day be passed to him when his dad couldn’t hold up any longer. Noct had hated this thing that had always made his dad sad, had always made Noct dread the future. But now that the future was here, he wasn’t any more ready for it than he had been back then. He _certainly_ didn’t see the point of putting it on now.

“Umbra left that for you,” Iggy said softly without turning around, pointing to Luna’s notebook sitting next to him on the bed.

Desperate for some final word from her, Noct tore the book open and flipped to the last page. To his disappointment, he didn’t find a last message, some sort of advice that would explain just how the hell he was supposed to go on after this, only a single, pressed sylleblossom—a clue, maybe, that their last meeting hadn’t been a dream at all.

It was only after he heard the door closing behind Iggy that he allowed the breaths catching in his throat to grow to sobs and the tears start to fall.

He didn’t know what took Ignis so long to come back with the others, but he was grateful for the hour of privacy. It had given him some time to collect himself, decide that instead of letting this clobber him, he was gonna do his best to push forward in her name, just like she’d done for him. Her sacrifice was gonna mean something, and he was gonna keep his promise as best he could.

By the time Iggy, Gladio, and Prompto pulled chairs up around the bed, he still had his fist pressed to his forehead in thought, but his eyes were dry, at least. He sat up groggily, crossing his legs underneath him with a sigh as he heard the tinkling sound of summoning coming from Prompto’s direction.

“Here ya go, Iggy,” Prompto said, and Noct looked up to see him handing a can of Ebony over. “Got Weskham to score us a few cases. They haven’t completely run out here yet, ya know. Should help with your hands.”

“How did you kn—thank you, Prompto,” Iggy replied before opening the can with trembling fingers and taking several long draughts, the knot in his neck bobbing with each swallow.

He grimaced when he lowered the can, and Prompto frowned, asking, “Is it bad or something? Weskham said they stopped sending shipments a couple weeks ago, but those shouldn’t be old or anything.”

“No, it’s perfect. I’m afraid I’ve grown accustomed . . . this is an enormous relief. Again, thank you.”

“What’s wrong?” Noct teased with a half-hearted smile. “You already drink through all of Laura’s stash? Where is she, anyway?”

He didn’t think Iggy’s face could get any whiter than it already was, but it looked to Noct like he was gonna pass out as a veil seemed to lower from his forehead to his chin. He set down the can on a coaster on the bedside table carefully, his eyes dead.

Gladio was the one to break the stillness.

“What the _fuck_ , Iggy?! You mean you didn’t tell him?”

Noct looked back over to Iggy, who was staring at the floor, his jaw and fists clenched tightly. Shit, they hadn’t lost her too, had they?

“Tell me what?”

“You know, I could pretend that you moping in here was all in the line of duty as you watched over Noct. But Noct’s awake now, and since you apparently gotta be the one to remove her necklace yourself, you’re gonna have to hear about her at some point. She gave her life for you guys, and she doesn’t deserve this shit.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “And here I thought you loved her. Not as much as she loved you, I guess.”

Noct turned to Ignis, his mouth falling open, but Iggy’s expression had gone carefully blank as he continued to stare down at the floor.

“Laura’s dead too? What happened?” he asked in disbelief, but Iggy only gave a single, sharp nod in response.

“Naw, no more of that shit,” Gladio said. “You’re gonna tell us what happened. You’re gonna say the words out loud.”

After Iggy closed his eyes and sighed deeply, he told them of arriving at the altar with Ravus, the fight between him and Ravus for Noct’s life, how Ardyn had disguised himself as Gladio, how he’d threatened Noct with a dagger, and how Laura had gotten infected trying to free Iggy from the soldiers.

Another person loved by the group, loved by Iggy, dead protecting them because Noct had failed getting Leviathan’s blessing on his own. But the goddess had been so much more vicious, the Empire and Ardyn so much more ruthless this time around. How was he supposed to have done it all by himself? He’d been so wrong about being able to take care of himself, and Luna and Laura had paid the price. Noct had cursed Specs to the same fate as him, losing a loved one, and Noct wondered how Iggy had been taking it these past few days. He seemed to be okay doing his job as always, but the look on his face, the fact he was showing any signs at all meant he hadn’t been doing well. If Iggy was having trouble coping, how would Noct ever expect to overthrow his own grief?

When Iggy had finished his story with a shuddering sigh, crossing his arms and curling in on himself, Noct didn’t even want to ask him more questions, but there was still one huge hole in his story.

“So wait, is she dead or a daemon? What happened after that?”

Ignis raised his head and looked to Gladio, saying “I’m assuming because I cannot go to retrieve her necklace for another two days that her body lies in Stonecage? Not that I’m not grateful for the ability to recover it, but did her body not fully dissolve when you . . .,” he took a breath, “killed her?”

“I’m really sorry I forgot about the name thing,” Prompto said, looking down at the floor. “She told me all about it on Ravatogh and everything.”

“See? That’s the thing. After you got hit, she said, ‘Healing. Tell Ignis,’ but didn’t finish before she died on her own,” Gladio said.

“Gladio!” Iggy gasped, his eyes going wide. “Do you mean to say that you didn’t make her safe? We don’t know if she retains her powers as a daemon. Could you imagine the havoc she could wreak on Eos as a daemonized Goddess of Time and Space?”

“She wasn’t so indestructible that she didn’t get herself in this position in the first place. I got her in their highest security vault. Believe me, she ain’t goin’ nowhere. Now—important question: she ever tell you anything about being able to heal in some kinda alien way?”

Ignis’s gaze turned inward for a second before he said, “She mentioned a healing coma once, but no details.”

“She’s definitely dead, not in a coma,” Prompto said with a shudder.

“I dunno about that,” Gladio said, and Iggy’s head shot up at his words. “Hearts still aren’t beating, but the scourge is clearing from her skin. Saw her yesterday, and no rigor mortis, no signs of decay. She’s s’posed to have been dead for four days now.”

“And no signs of transformation?” Iggy asked, leaning forward. “No vapor?”

Gladio shook his head and said, “I take it you can’t . . ..” He wiggled his fingers in some kinda meaningful way at Iggy’s face, and Iggy shook his head back at him.

“How is this the first you’re hearing of this?” Noct asked incredulously. Specs, after all, had always been the one doing the informing. It was weird hearing all this information from Gladio. Had he really done nothing at all except sit by his bed these past . . . was it really four days he’d been out?

“Told you,” Gladio said, his volume rising. “He’s been refusing any information on her in some twisted notion of duty to you!”

“I told you yesterday that my first duty was to the Crown, did I not?” Iggy snapped. But his voice grew quiet and faraway as he continued, “Alive or dead, she of all people understands that . . . more than anyone.”

Specs had always taken his ‘duty to the Crown’ way too seriously, Noct thought; it was why they were always telling him to just freaking relax already, why it turned out he had no personal life until he’d left Insomnia. Even through the heavy fog of his own mourning, Noct could plainly see Iggy was using duty as an excuse to not deal with stuff, but short of Laura suddenly waking up, he didn’t know what to do to help, especially with him drowning in the same boat. Still, it might’ve been too late for them to save Luna, but if there was anything in the world they could do to save Laura, they were gonna do it.

“Well you’re all going again in two days, right? I’m coming too.”

Gladio nodded. “As you should. We all got a duty to look out for each other, too, and no one more than the King. But today? You stay here while we finish with this temporary bridge we’re working on. Magical exhaustion’s no joke.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Noct said, falling back into the pillows. Even just being awake this last hour and a half or so had worn him down, and he was starting to feel weak and shaky. Closing his eyes, he let himself go, not caring that the others were still sitting around him—succumbing to the heavy sleepiness that had been trying to pull him back down since he’d woken up.

***

“How are you feeling?” Ignis asked two days later after he’d ruthlessly pushed the curtains aside to allow the sun to shine into the room and sit stiffly in the armchair next to the bed.

Terrible. He felt terrible. All night, Laura and Luna had haunted his dreams. As he stood in a field of sylleblossoms, Luna would reach out to him, her fingers outstretched as he desperately tried to grab her hand, but he could never make contact for some reason. Then Laura would appear, her miasmic eyes glowing black and purple as she took Luna’s hand. Luna and Laura would begin to glow gold, and just before he would wake up, he could hear Ardyn chuckling directly in his ear, sending shivers down his arms.

Three times he’d had that dream last night, and each time, he’d sat up suddenly in bed covered in a cold sweat. It was like when he’d been attacked by the marilith as a kid. He hadn’t slept for months as his mind had kept cycling over and over, reliving the slice of the blades against his back and the sticky warmth of his nanny’s lifeblood between his fingers.

He finally managed a grunt in response to Ignis’s question.

“Noct?” he asked hesitantly, almost as though he were nervous about bringing up whatever he wanted to talk about. His tone caught Noct’s attention immediately. Specs was never nervous about talking to him unless he was the one being interrogated about something personal. “Perhaps it might be best if we . . .,” he paused for a breath, “brought our journey to a close.”

“Why?” he asked, sitting up suddenly, unable to even believe that Iggy, of all people, had said such a thing.

With a small, pained groan, he said, “It’s just that uh . . .,” he hesitated, as though choosing his words very carefully, “we’ve already lost so much. Too much.”

“Are you kidding me?!” he asked in disbelief, meeting Iggy’s bloodshot eyes. “That’s exactly why I have to keep going—because if I give up now, their sacrifices would have been for nothing!”

Noct may not have understood the magnitude of the destiny he’d undertaken when he promised Luna all those years ago that he would help her rid the world of darkness, but he understood it now—probably better than anyone thought he did. Luna had given his life purpose for all these years, even if he hadn’t known it at the time, and now that she was gone, he was damn well gonna finish the job that she had died doing in his name.

But he couldn’t believe he was hearing this from _Ignis_ —the guy who’d been pushing him to be more since before he could remember.

“And you . . .,” he accused, thinking of the girl Iggy had fallen for so fast, currently lying dead in a dungeon in Stonecage, “you, of all people . . . you should know that better than anyone.”

When Iggy didn’t respond, Noct stared down at his feet in thought. Every now and then, Noct would have little doubts here and there about Iggy’s judgment, but he’d usually ended up the one in the wrong. This was the first time he’d actually doubted Iggy himself, _mistrusted_ Iggy’s motivations for his advice. Noct had _thought_ this lost hopelessness had been about losing his girlfriend, but if he was suggesting this, he clearly didn’t get the meaning of all those deaths in Noct’s name, why they _had_ to do this.

“You know, I’ve known Luna for twelve years. She was gonna be my wife,” he said, the word still sounding foreign as it passed his teeth. “It was s’posed to be my duty to protect her, and I failed. She died protecting _me_. It’s like, I had this responsibility as her future husband, and it’s sacred, and I let her down. Maybe it’s cause you and Laura weren’t as close, but . . . that kinda connection does something to you, Ig. I can’t let her die for no reason.”

Before Noct could look over at him again, Iggy stood and strode swiftly toward the door, but he stopped in the archway between the bedroom and the parlor, letting out a defeated sigh before turning his head to speak over his shoulder in a husky, pained voice.

“The decision is yours to make, and yours alone. But do remember we will stand with you always and help you bear your burdens.” His voice grew stronger as he continued, “Don’t be afraid to let us share the load.”

Noct blinked in surprise. Had he missed something? This conversation clearly wasn’t what he thought it was about, since it had headed in this seemingly random direction. Before he could take another step and reach the door to the suite, Noct stopped him.

“Iggy?”

“If you’re feeling up to it, the First Secretary says that there are a number of people trapped in the library,” he said, looking over his shoulder again, but not enough to make eye contact. “She can’t seem to offer a clear explanation as to why, but their forces are having trouble getting at them. This may be a mission Gladio and Prompto will need our assistance with.”

“Uh . . . sure,” he said reluctantly. As much as he’d rather sleep another day away, it wasn’t like he could with people needing help. Maybe actually getting out and doing something would keep him from obsessing over Luna and the heavy blanket of depression that kept threatening to pull him under. “Give me like, twenty minutes?”

“Excellent,” Iggy said with a nod, turning back toward the door. “We’ll be downstairs waiting for you.”

***

Running his hands over the window and the red forcefield covering the frame, Noct could easily tell why the Accordion forces had needed help, but he couldn’t imagine what Camelia expected their group to do about this. They’d gone to the Tigiano District on Northern Isle to see about this library people were supposedly trapped in, only to find every door and window sealed off with a flickering red light that couldn’t be penetrated by any force, weapon, or spell they possessed.

Noct could tell by the amount of damage in the area and looks on the guys’ faces as they prodded their forcefields that they’d done some fighting in this area. Specs especially kept looking out to the main square like it was torturing him to be there.

“Are we even sure there are people trapped in there?” Gladio asked. “Think they would’ve answered our knocks by now.”

“Dunno,” Noct replied as he summoned his sword and prodded at the frame around the window. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” The sword scraped off the energy as though it were solid rock, shooting sparks and ringing in the quiet, still smoking air.

“I bet Laura would know what to do,” Prompto sighed.

“Not helping, Prompto,” Gladio said under his breath, pushing his fist carefully into one of the energy panels covering his window.

Ignis was running his gloved hands over the front entrance, his head tilted and his eyes narrowed in thought. “The energy must be coming from somewhere. If we could locate and disable the source, the forcefields should disappear.”

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been kept waiting?” a familiar oily voice sounded from Gladio’s window, and Gladio let out a small surprised exclamation before stepping back closer to Noct. “It’s a rather rude habit, you know.”

“You!” Noct spat at Ardyn, ducking out from behind Gladio and ramming the tip of his sword into the panel with every ounce of strength he possessed. It hit the forcefield and bounced off, the metal against energy shrieking in protest

“Ah, ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ardyn said, raising a finger in the air and tilting his chin mockingly. His eyes traveled over to Noct’s other side, where Iggy stood just behind him. “I imagine you’re surprised to see me.”

“Not particularly,” Iggy replied.

“Ahh,” he sighed, his eyes closing serenely, “the curse of immortality. Was your freakish friend able to tell you before it happened?” He opened his eyes again and stared Iggy down intently. “Did you get to see it for yourself? Clearly as stunningly powerful as I expected. Was she a beauty to behold?”

Noct didn’t bother waiting for Iggy to respond. This was the guy who’d killed Luna and maybe Laura, and if anything was gonna scare him, it’d be that Laura had resisted the one power he was able to hold over everybody.

“She’s more powerful than you think. Looks like you weren’t able to change her after all.”

The satisfaction that spread through Noct’s chest and down his limbs at the sight of Ardyn’s smug expression dropping to subtle surprise was almost worth the glare he got from Iggy when he stepped forward to meet his eyes, but it wasn’t like Ardyn could do anything with that information.

“I wonder,” he began in a soft, thoughtful tone, “do _you_ even know what she is?”

“Sucks not knowing, doesn’t it?” Noct shot back in mock sympathy. “Who’s the incompetent one now?”

Specs relaxed his face before turning to smirk at Ardyn. “Perhaps an old dog simply cannot be taught new tricks beyond the third dimension—a spherical dimwit, indeed.”

“My, but you two certainly are brave this morning. Where was that display of youthful vigor when last we met? Is it possible your gall is due to the presence of your Shield and not a show of true courage?”

Gladio took a step forward, summoning his sword and hefting it over his shoulder with a frown. “You’re the one standing behind a shield right now. Why don’t you come on out, and we’ll show you how courageous we can be?”

“Another time, perhaps,” he sighed with regret. “I have some rather unfortunate business to attend to, but rest assured, I’ll be seeing you again very, very soon. You see, your little companion has seen fit to leave me with a gift, and if she does, in fact, live, I fear I must return the favor. It’s only polite, of course.”

“What kinda gift? What do you mean return the favor?” Noct asked, his heart beating a little faster at the thought that maybe he’d given Ardyn too much information after all. If Laura was dead, it wouldn’t matter what Ardyn tried to do to her, but if she was alive, she couldn’t be any more vulnerable than she was now.

“I mean,” he said with a smirk and a tip of his hat as he began backing away from the window, “until we meet again, little Prince.”

***

Even though their travel lights were on as they plodded down yet another level of dark, freezing, winding staircase, Noct did his best to stick close to the warden in front of him and the warm circle of light his lantern was providing. This place reminded him too much of Costlemark, and his overused reflexes were itching to summon his sword at every flash of Prompto’s swinging arm out of the corner of his eye.

When they’d run out of stairs to descend, the warden led them down the aisle of barred cells and sealed doors, some even displaying the protective holy runes similar to those he’d seen on the haven floors. Snatches of whispers and muttered conversations skittered over his ears and fled like spiders scurrying away from the light as their five sets of footsteps echoed down the dark hallway.

As they passed by one of the barred cells, a sudden flash of movement and a scream brought Noct’s sword to the ready, and he froze in preparation for a fight. Wild, viciously violet eyes stared up at him from underneath a mop of gray hair and sunken withered skin as an old woman clutched at the bars with gnarled, arthritic hands. Recognizing that he might’ve overreacted, Noct dismissed his sword and followed after the warden, but he could still hear the woman’s maniacal laughter chasing after them.

“Three and a half cups of sugar to get to the fucking moon, darlings!” she screamed as the light from the lantern left her, and she was enshrouded in darkness again.

“I still can’t believe we put her in here,” Prompto said, his voice echoing off the stone walls to be heard by everyone, including the prisoners in their cells.

Noct sped up for a couple steps to lean closer to the warden as he asked, “What did that woman back there do?”

The warden stopped in front of a large, round door covered in runes and reached into his pocket, pulling out two keys to hand Gladio. “I dunno. You learn not to ask questions in this job. Come get me when you’re ready to leave. I’ll be in my office.”

“Not very friendly, is he?” Noct muttered when the warden had turned and walked far enough away to not hear him.

Using one of the keys he’d just been given, Gladio unlocked the round door, pulling it back with all his might to reveal another barred door behind it. Iggy, who’d been completely silent since he’d gotten on the boat to come here, rushed forward to shine his travel light into the pitch-black, oppressively small cell.

“Ya gotta move, Ig,” Gladio said gently, pushing him aside so he could unlock the second door.

It was once the door was opened and the four of them squeezed inside to stand around the stone table she’d been chained to that Noct really got a good look at the friend that had died defending him. He’d never considered himself particularly close to Laura like the others had—she’d been more of a friendly mentor than actual family. But he was forced to reconsider that position as he took in her shredded uniform covered in the blood of two species; the oozing, festering blade slashes and bullet grazes on her bare arms; the nearly solid mats of her bloody hair hanging off the edge of the platform; the purple bruises in the shape of hand and fingerprints on her neck and face; and the blue tint to her skin and lips. Her arms were crossed over her chest, held tightly in place by thick, iron shackles attached to chains that wrapped around the underside of the table and over her body several times.

Every trial she’d undergone that day to keep them all safe was still written on her body like ink on paper.

Ignis drew in a deep, hitching breath and released it in a shuddering sigh. “Still not breathing, but her aura . . .,” he murmured, and before any of them could even make a move to stop him, he reached out to place a hand on her forehead. Noct hadn’t even noticed him removing his gloves. Had he planned to touch her scourged body this entire time? Even if they couldn’t currently see any scourge on her skin, there was no way they could know that she was clear of the disease.

“Fuck, Iggy!” Gladio roared as the three of them jumped back toward the door. “You’re probably infected now!”

Iggy glared up at them all, fire dancing in his bloodshot eyes. Those eyes and pale skin of his had been some of his subtle signs of stress he’d been showing since Noct had woken up two days ago; even his hands had stopped shaking once he’d gotten some caffeine in him. Noct had realized when little Ignis had showed up those weeks ago that no one was better than Iggy at hiding stuff, except maybe Laura, but there was no way Noct could’ve known the constant shivering and inability to eat and sleep had been hiding this level of willingness to self-destruct.

“Come now, what do you take me for? I’m not suicidal,” he said impatiently. He looked down tenderly at the corpse under his hand and moved his fingers to her neck. “She may not have a pulse or breath, but she has an aura, and it’s clear of the scourge. Now, give me the key to her shackles. We’re getting her out of this terrible place this instant.”

He held out his hand to Gladio for the key, but when Gladio only glared at him in response, his brown eyes darting back and forth over his face as though he were inspecting him, Iggy turned to Noct.

“Noct, I assure you that I am of sound mind and judgment,” he said calmly, his hand not leaving Laura’s neck, but his chest was rising and falling a little too rapidly for not having been in battle.

“Since when can you read auras in that much detail? Hell, since when can you read auras at all? She in your head again?” Gladio asked, glaring back at Iggy.

“Since she taught me to, and no, she isn’t,” he said shortly.

Prompto stepped forward and raised his hand a little. “Whaddya mean by in his head?” he asked Gladio.

Gladio’s eyes widened as he looked back to Ignis. “You still haven’t told them?”

“No,” he said, shaking his outstretched hand, “but you may as well while I unlock her.” When Gladio still didn’t move to give him the key, he turned to Noct. “Highness, please,” he pleaded.

It was the word ‘please,’ that plucked at something inside Noct—not that it was an uncommon word to hear coming from Iggy. But in all their years together, Specs had hardly ever asked anything from him for personal reasons, and he’d definitely never asked for anything that required Noct’s complete trust like this. That trust had been shaken when he’d suggested they stop their mission to get the Crystal back because Noct had thought he’d been too lost in his grief or afraid of dying. But seeing him willing to put his life on the line to prove that he was right about Laura, seeing him staring back at Noct with that weird combination of defiant rationality in his expression, Noct realized that his ‘duty to the Crown’ hadn’t been moping after all. The speech about bringing their journey to an end hadn't been about his own losses and fears; it’d been about protecting Noct. Iggy had been carrying on as best he could despite the pain of loss. That kinda strength was something Noct knew he could never be able to match, but he could sure as hell try.

Iggy would never put any of them in danger, no matter what.

“Give him the key,” Noct said, nodding at Gladio, who frowned, but gave a sharp nod before dropping the key in Iggy’s still outstretched hand. Iggy brought the shaking key to the locks on Laura’s wrists, and Noct said, “We’ll just . . . wait for you outside.”

As the frantic clanking and pulling of chains echoed out into the hallway, Noct gathered Gladio and Prompto around him, asking in a low voice so as not to be overheard by the other prisoners, “What’s this about the head thing?”

Gladio sighed and closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t’ve said anything, but I thought he’d gone nuts. You know she’s telepathic, right? She gets in his head, and they’re in pretty much constant contact. Or they were, anyway, before this happened. It’s like, a couple’s thing.”

“And you knew about this? Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” Noct demanded. “How long have you known?”

He knew from experience that having gods in his head, even having Laura in his head, was no small thing. How much had she been messing with Iggy this entire time? And gods . . . when he was all messed up in Caem, had that been her too? If it weren’t for what she’d done to be lying in that cell right now, he’d have half a mind to leave her there.

“Because he didn’t want people to know, and it wasn’t my business. Figured it out on the boat here, and I checked, man. I checked to make sure he was safe. And can you honestly tell me that he hasn’t been happier since we left Insomnia?”

“If you would all kindly finish discussing my private life at a later time?” Iggy said as he appeared in the doorway to the cell, Laura’s limp body cradled in his arms. “The sooner we leave this place, the better.”

To Noct’s surprise, they had no trouble removing Laura from the prison, as her imprisonment had been unofficial and semi-voluntary. The phrase ‘Orb of Bemusement’ was bounced around with all the weight of fate itself between the warden and Gladio before he let them go, but Iggy stood stock still and quiet in the corner of the warden’s cramped and littered office, refusing to sit despite Laura’s dead weight in his arms.

“She’s so still, so cold,” he said in a small voice when they’d stepped out of the warden’s office and were led out to the front entrance.

“You sure you don’t want me to carry h—” Gladio began as they stepped outside into the afternoon sun, but he was interrupted by Iggy’s soft curse.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed down at Laura as his steps toward the boat dock faltered.

The darkness of the dungeon, even the dim lighting in the warden’s office, had been kind in shrouding Laura’s true condition. Besides the bloodless blue of her skin being way more obvious in the light of day, Noct could see that every tear in her body suit had hidden more wounds of war—still sickeningly juicy and swollen—as though they’d only happened hours ago—and an odd greenish-purplish-red.  

“I’ve seen corpses that look better than her,” Prompto whispered, and Gladio elbowed him, shaking his head before glancing in Iggy’s direction meaningfully.

With all that had happened in the last few days, no one was alarmed or even questioned the fact that they were boating through the canals and walking on the street carrying a corpse, but the city was still mostly clear of civilians. The few people they did pass averted their gaze down and away or bowed their heads, as though mourning in solidarity along with them. Noct wondered how many others were still wandering the city searching for lost loved ones and how many had been found dead for people to no longer be at all shocked by the sight of a corpse in the street. It seemed they’d all, even the civilians, had aged and hardened in the last few days, and a tightening coil of anger sprung inside him at the thought of all the stolen lives and broken families.

Ardyn and the Emperor were going to pay for this.

As soon as they got back to their room, Iggy carried Laura straight to the bathroom and shut the door behind him while he, Gladio, and Prompto settled in for a long wait in the parlor chairs. It was only behind the semi-privacy of the closed door that Iggy finally seemed to let go, and the agony he’d been hiding away, all that emotion they’d all been doubting the existence of, was released like water from a broken dam. The three of them stared at their boots in silence, pretending they weren’t hearing the sounds of wracking sobs wrung from reluctant lips just barely rising above the sound of the water filling the tub.

As the roaring rush of water ceased, giving way to little splashes, Iggy quieted to the occasional gasp and small, choked-off sob, but it still felt like they were all desecrating something sacred—taking a piss on Bahamut’s altar—to be sitting there listening to someone as private as Iggy pour his heart out. In all his life, Noct had never seen him cry, not even when little Ignis had had the panic attack back in Keycatrich.

Since Noct had woken up two days ago, Iggy had seen to his every need, asking after his health and mood, making sure he ate a well-balanced diet and drank enough water, ensuring his sheets were fresh and the bedroom picked up. But what had any of them done to take care of Iggy? Gladio had pushed food at him a couple of times, and Prompto had gotten him that Ebony. But what had Noct done to help Iggy when he’d been going through the same thing Noct had? All three of them would have to step it up.

If Laura had been awake, she probably would’ve kicked all their asses by now.

After an hour and the third time they heard the tub being drained and refilled, Prompto stood up suddenly. “I can’t take this anymore,” he said, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’m gonna go find some food. Doubt Ignis is gonna wanna move from her side when he gets out. Either of you wanna come?”

“Yeah, I’ll go with you,” Gladio replied. “With Ardyn out there, none of us should be alone.”

“I’m gonna stay here,” Noct said. “Bring me back some chips?”

“You got it,” Prompto replied with a half-hearted wink and finger guns. “Move my stuff in here and take my spot on the other bed? That way he can stay with her.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“We shoulda been doin’ that the whole time—not lettin’ ‘em get away with all that propriety garbage,” Gladio said as he stood and stretched, cracking his neck. “Not like those two were gonna start fucking with us in the next bed over, anyway.”

Once the door had shut behind them, the silence was almost stifling as Noct moved Prompto’s stuff and pulled out his phone to start a game, and it was only the silence that allowed him to hear the words beneath Iggy’s murmuring.

“Rose Marion Laurelín Tildari Haránathat Ni’annen Tyler.”

Was that her full name? It seemed ridiculously long, even for royalty. Noct hadn’t known that ‘Rose’ was _actually_ her name and not just an alias, which made it a little less weird that Iggy called her that from time to time. But why was he saying her full name like it was a spell or something? Even as he sat there shooting down little green aliens, he could hear Iggy sigh and repeat her name three more times in that same flat tone.

It was another hour before the door opened and Ignis emerged, carrying Laura and wearing his pajamas with his hair still down and wet. It reminded Noct of when they were teenagers, when things were so much simpler, and Iggy had looked so much younger. Sometimes he forgot Iggy was only twenty-two and not forty-five, with the way he talked and acted and kept them all in line. He wasn’t supposed to have all his shit together yet, but they all sure as hell treated him like he did. Noct wondered how often Iggy was just pretending to be holding it together, like he apparently was now, with that mask of cool composure.

As Ignis laid Laura’s limp body down with her head at the foot the bed, Noct noticed even from his spot in his armchair that she looked marginally better with all the blood washed off her skin, but her sleep shorts and t-shirt had laid bare even more of the open wounds, burns, and rings of bloody flesh around her wrists and ankles as Iggy carefully arranged them in a more comfortable position. Iggy turned to the parlor, reaching out to grab the other armchair, and froze when he caught sight of Noct sitting there watching him.

“Highness. Apologies, I’d thought you all left,” he said with a nod before picking up an armchair and setting it by the foot of the bed. As he headed back into the bathroom, Noct stood and dragged his own chair next to Iggy’s. Maybe he could find out some more about Iggy’s head space with a little chat. He didn’t wanna believe that Laura would hurt him, but even if Gladio had checked, he felt like he had the responsibility to double-check.

When Iggy emerged from the bathroom holding a comb, he greeted softly, “Noct,” before sitting down and setting the comb on the bed next to Laura’s head. Placing his thumbs carefully over her temples, he let his fingers rest down her cheeks as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After several tense and still moments, his entire body seemed to slacken before he leaned down to briefly press his lips to her forehead, and Noct had to suppress that crawling feeling of awkwardness seeing him kiss someone for the first time. Their dance at the masquerade had already been a shocking side of Specs to witness, but this tender, loving Specs was just as strange. Why did he suddenly feel free to do it in front of other people?

“Come back to me, please,” Iggy whispered into her skin, adjusting the necklace he’d been so obsessed about around her neck. “Again, we have much to discuss, you and I.”

Iggy didn’t acknowledge Noct’s presence as he picked up the comb, fanned Laura’s matted hair in a halo around her head, and pulled it apart into six sections. Picking up the left-most section of tangles, he began working through them, starting at the ends and working upward in quick, gentle strokes.

As much as Noct wanted to leave Iggy in peace for a few minutes, his mind was buzzing with questions. He really could’ve used some of Iggy’s interrogation skills to handle this right now, but all he had was himself.

“What was that all about? Were you trying to contact her? Are you telepathic now?”

Iggy leaned in closer to his work as he said in a hushed voice, “No, but I am . . . I was with her. I can’t feel an inkling of her now. Her mind is just as silent to me as anyone else’s.”

Noct tried to imagine what it would be like to share a mind with someone—with Luna—all their years of contact in that book shared instantly across the distance from soul to soul. He could’ve shared in her gentle sweetness in the sylleblossom fields of Tenebrae for the last twelve years of their lives without the Empire knowing a thing. But Laura was a different story; she was so different from Luna. She’d been inside Noct’s mind before, and she was just . . . so much more than human—immense and terrifying. But as much as Noct wanted to be pissed at Laura for possibly screwing with Iggy’s head, he really wanted to know what Iggy thought about it. His mind was important to his job, and Noct knew he wouldn’t let just anyone in there. Noct doubted Iggy would even let him in his head if such a thing was possible.

“So, what’s it like, sharing a mind with someone like her?”

“Oh Noct,” he breathed in awe the second Noct had finished asking, as though he were desperate to tell someone, “you have no idea. She has lived over seventy of our lifetimes, and I have walked among her memories as clearly as I sit before you now— an entire life lived in the moments in between, where I can fully pursue both my leisure and my duty.”

Iggy paused in his work as he met Noct’s gaze, his eyes wide in wonderment.

“Every hobby I wish to pursue, anything I ever dreamed of learning or seeing is right there in her mind—lost secrets of ancient civilizations, elemancy, healcasting, blade techniques, magic and methods humans haven’t discovered and couldn’t even use on this planet are available to me, with more practice, because of our connection.

“I’ve seen the birth and death of stars, the rise and fall of mighty civilizations, the very first sunrise on a newly formed planet; attended lectures and concerts by some of the most brilliant philosophers, scientists, and composers humanity will ever know; seen worlds with three purple suns, frozen waterfalls made of diamond, and cities that take up entire planets. I’ve danced on a bloody moon! I have seen the breathtaking and the absurd.”

Noct was speechless as Iggy turned back to his work, and after working out a particularly stubborn knot, he continued in a more subdued tone.

“More than that, I have seen her soul firsthand, and by some absolute miracle, I’m permitted to know for certain that she worships me as much as I do her. And if she dies here, now, because of my failure, all of time and space will have lost the most precious treasure in existence.”

Studying the bleak, serious expression on Iggy’s face, remembering when he’d first noticed the odd light in his eyes back in Caem, Noct wondered just how much was left of the guy who’d first left Insomnia with him. From the sound of it, he’d been on twice the adventures the rest of them had—the kind no one else on Eos could ever have—and Noct certainly didn’t recognize this affection-displaying, loving guy he was seeing right now, had seen since Iggy had first held Laura’s hand by the campfire.

“Wow, Specs. No wonder you’re so different. You’ve seemed . . . I dunno, older somehow, kinda separate from the world.” _Separate from me,_ he thought to himself, but even as he thought it, he knew the words weren’t really true. Despite all Iggy’d been through in these past months, he’d always been there the moment Noct needed him, and often when he hadn’t.

Ignis stopped working to adjust his glasses before lightly brushing his fingers against Laura’s cheek and starting on the next section of her hair. “It’s just that she gave me so much more than the world to contemplate that I could no longer completely be a part of it. But now that she’s gone, everything is shallow, two-dimensional.”

“So you think she’s really dead?”

He pursed his lips before he replied, “I can’t say. I’ve never met a corpse with an aura; however, I’ve never met a living person without breath or a heartbeat, either. She warned us a powerful spell could kill her, and she certainly performed one while infected just before . . . this.”

“Can you use any of the healing stuff you know on her? I mean, even for just the wounds.”

He shook his head. “Her energy and mine combine for that sort of healing on her body. If she is, in fact, drained, I could be doing more harm. I was still working on learning some of the more advanced healing magics before the battle.”

Noct sat in silence and watched Iggy worked until Prompto and Gladio returned with behemoth burgers and chips a couple of hours later, which didn’t surprise Noct, since most of the bridges were out and so few places were open for business. Iggy had just finished braiding Laura’s hair, and when had he learned to braid hair, anyway?  He’d summoned bandages and a bunch of healing salves from the first-aid kit and was standing to get started on Laura’s wounds when he was pushed back into his chair by Gladio’s heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Sit down and eat. Haven’t seen you eat a damn thing all day, and Ebony don’t count.”

“I’ll eat when I’m finished,” Iggy protested.

“Sorry, buddy. You’re gonna eat now,” Prompto said, thrusting a wrapped burger into his hands. Then you’re gonna get in that bed and sleep until you can’t possibly sleep anymore.”

“Yeah, I got this,” Gladio said, picking up the medical supplies from the bed and opening a tube of ointment. “I don’t look like much, but I know the medical shit too, ya know.”

“Of course I know,” Iggy replied with a frown before sighing down at his burger. “You have my thanks, truly.”

The three of them ate while Gladio dressed Laura’s many wounds, practically wrapping her from head to toe in gauze, as they traded stories about the more heroic things they’d done while they’d been separated—like when Prompto saved Iggy and Gladio by crashing the weird Nif craft into two armors, or when Ignis and Laura took out over forty MTs and soldiers and two armors on their own. When they’d finished eating, Prompto cleared away the trash, Gladio moved all the chairs back into the parlor, and Noct helped Ignis move Laura to face the right way on the bed and get her covered. Iggy had started heading to the couch in the parlor when Noct stopped him.

“Go on, get in bed, Specs,” Noct said, thrusting his chin at what had been his spot on the bed. “We did some rearranging.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to protest, but then looked down at Laura’s body, seeming to realize Noct wouldn’t wanna sleep in the same bed as his dead girlfriend anyway. Glancing first at Gladio on the other bed, then Prompto setting up his spot on the couch, then Noct, he said in a soft, warm voice, “Thank you, all of you.”

“Just rest now. She’s got an aura, right? And the scourge is gone. So there’s still hope.”

 


	56. Chapter 56

The second Iggy stood up from the bed, leaving his papers in a neat stack on the nightstand, Gladio took his place, sitting up against the headboard and pulling Laura’s arm over his middle so that her tepid body was pulled up against his side. Gladio and Prompto had been taking turns keeping her warm during the rare times Iggy would have to leave her side since they’d brought her back to the suite a week ago, but none of them had any idea if the practice was doing her any good besides making her feel somewhat less like a corpse. Cuddling with a dead body was definitely the weirdest fucking thing he’d done in recent months, but Gladio had decided that Laura definitely wasn’t dead, and he was gonna do whatever might help to get her to wake up again. Iggy, despite being practically glued to her side as he worked, wasn’t quite as optimistic.

“I’m afraid I’ve lost the ability to be impartial in this matter,” Ignis said, rolling his shoulders as he pulled his jacket on. “I can hardly ask you all to indulge me in carrying a corpse with us all the way to Gralea.”

“Damnit, Ig, you think we haven’t? Pretty sure not chopping her head off when I should’ve made that pretty clear,” Gladio said.

Gladio had been taking it easier on Iggy since they’d gotten back from the prison, since he’d heard the most heart-shattering sound possible to be wrenched from a man like Ignis from behind a closed door that none of them dared open. It wasn’t until he’d watched ‘Ice Cold’ Iggy stoically walk into that room, completely crumble to rubble, then completely rebuild himself to take care of Laura that Gladio had realized that no one was capable of kicking Ignis Scientia’s ass better than himself. He really _had_ been feeling something for her all that time, been beating the shit out of himself for whatever had really happened on that altar. And while Gladio still hadn’t approved of the moping, at least Ig was doing something about it now.

Nothing pissed Gladio off more than sacrifice going unacknowledged. There was something of a sore point in it when his entire line of ancestors, good and strong men and women, had dedicated their lives and bodies and children to protecting the line of kings. He’d thought Iggy was using his duty as an excuse to move on from Laura and forget about what she’d done, and normally, Gladio would agree that duty came first. But any one of them could’ve watched Noct when they’d visited her at the prison that first time, and Iggy _definitely_ could’ve at least heard his reports on her. But he _had_ been acknowledging her sacrifice, in his own way, the entire time, and Gladio was starting to feel a little bad for being so hard on him those first few days.

“It doesn’t matter who’s impartial and who isn’t,” Noct said loud enough to be heard from the parlor. “We’re taking her with us whether she’s dead or not.”

Gladio heard that decisive, commanding tone, the tone of a king, and was almost proud for a second—until he looked over at Noct’s hands to see his fingers still bare. The more days that passed without Noct putting that ring on, the more irritated Gladio was starting to get with him—for almost the same reason he’d been irritated with Ignis, but he’d kept his mouth shut so far. Even though the kid had been sleeping way too much, not training with him in the mornings, and generally being a pain in the ass, Gladio had to admit he’d been doing a decent job of picking himself back up, considering everything he’d lost. If he still hadn’t put the Ring on by the time they got back on the road, however, words were gonna have to be said.

“How’re we gonna protect her from Ardyn though?” Prompto asked from his spot on the couch next to Noct. “Not like we can just toss her in the trunk.”

Gladio furrowed his brow as looked down at Laura’s slack face—her long black eyelashes laid against her pale skin, her blue lips turned down into a slight frown, those godsdamn fingerprints across her cheek. She looked no different than she had a week ago, and because of Noct and his big mouth, a dangerous man with a personal grudge would be coming after her as soon as he was done with his ‘business,’ which was why the three of them had to stay in the room in the first place while Iggy gave his report to Claustra on organizing the bridge rebuilding efforts.

“We’ll figure it out,” Noct said. “Services to the Empire are slowly shutting down for some reason, but Camelia got us on the last train out to Gralea in a few weeks. Hopefully she’ll have woken up by then.”

“It’s gonna take like, two weeks on the boat just to get to Terraverde to catch the train, anyway. She can definitely come with us for that,” Prompto said.

“Hopefully the radio reports after the Fall were right, and the Crystal actually _is_ in Gralea,” Gladio muttered.

Prompto had obviously lost whatever round of game he was playing because he groaned and put his phone down before replying, “But then we gotta figure out where in Gralea it is. Not like that’s gonna be a small place to search. Are we gonna have to walk the _whole_ city?”

Iggy had pulled on a single glove but paused to say, “I did some rather extensive studies on Niflian geography during my stay at the library. I must say Zegnautus Keep captures my interest as a likely stronghold for the Crystal. It’s not a sure bet, but a good place to start.”

“And I bet Ardyn’s gonna give us some hints along the way,” Noct growled bitterly.

“Indeed. No doubt he’ll be following us,” Iggy said, and Gladio thought he could almost hear contempt in his tone as well.

Leaning over Gladio, Iggy placed a hand on Laura’s forehead before pulling back to put his other glove on. “Still cold,” he said under his breath before turning his eyes on Gladio. “I’m leaving you in charge, Gladio. Should the Chancellor appear while I’m away, I’m counting on you to get _everyone_ out safely.”

As he’d drawn closer, Gladio examined Iggy’s face for signs of that broken guy he’d seen in the prison and heard in the bathroom. That kinda pain didn’t just go away, even if he’d been doing a kickass job taking care of Noct, Laura, and all Claustra’s relief effort tasks. He still wasn’t eating enough—and was drinking Ebony like a fiend—but that death mask on his face seemed to have improved a little. Surprisingly, he’d seemed to be getting more restful sleep next to Laura’s dead body, which Gladio wouldn’t’ve figured, but when he’d asked about it, Iggy’d muttered something about her aura and changed the topic to handling the civs that wanted to move back into the city.

“You got my word, I’ll keep her safe,” Gladio said seriously, even though they went through different variations of this _every_ time Iggy had to leave the room. It didn’t need to be said between the two of them that Noct’s safety would come first. “We’re all gonna stay here together in the room until you get back unless something happens—maximum protection. Even got the staff downstairs keeping an eye out for us this time.”

“Very well,” he replied before looking back down at Laura. “Be sure not to keep her in that position the entire time. I should be back in time to change her bandages, but as it now has become an hour of circuitous walking to get to the First Secretary’s estate, I may be delayed in returning.”

“We got this, Ig. She’ll be okay.”

“I’d prefer her to be better than ‘okay.’ Remember your promise. And call me if there are any changes whatsoever.”

“I will.” Before Iggy could turn away and head for the door though, Gladio reached out a hand to stop him, speaking in a low voice so Noct and Prompto wouldn’t overhear them over their game in the parlor. “Hey, Prompto said something the other day that made me think.”

“A dangerous notion, to be certain,” Iggy replied, “especially considering the source.”

“Shut up. Tryin’ to be serious here.” Gladio glanced down at Laura draped across his torso, looking for all the world like she was sleeping on him if it weren’t for her color. “You know I’d never make a move on your girl, right? We’re not like that.”

A shadow of his old self crossed over Iggy’s face as he smirked back down at him. “Of course, I know that, and not only because she would have likely castrated you if you’d tried.” The quirk dropped from his lips as his eyes moved over to Laura. “She cared for you in the same way.”

“Good, just makin’ sure,” Gladio said with a nod, doing his best not to take note of the fact that Iggy preferred to use the past tense when it came to talking about Laura.

Gladio respected that Iggy was a realist no matter how much it hurt, even if Gladio had gotten up in the middle of the night a time or two to see him sleeping all wrapped around her like she was a big stuffed moogle, his head centered over where one of her hearts should’ve been beating. Gladio himself had been doing his best not to feel anything about this whole ordeal—move on, that’s what he did, what he always had to do—but gods damnit, Laura always made things harder, sticking around and giving hope instead of just waking up or dying like a normal person.

“Was there anything any of you needed me to pick up on my way back?” Iggy asked as he strode toward the door.

“Nah, I think we’re good,” Noct said, not taking his eyes from his phone. “Thanks, Specs.”

With one final, significant look at Gladio, Iggy shut the door to the suite behind him.

“All right, Princess,” Gladio said with a sigh. “Let’s see what kinda shit you got going on in this book today.”

Gladio had long ago finished reading and outlining all his plans with _The Business of Agriculture_ , at which point, he’d asked to borrow anything Laura’d had in her Pocket. He hadn’t taken any real steps forward in his plans to start a farm beyond asking Dustin and Monica to inspect the house and the protective runes if they had the time. He couldn’t ask them to do anything more than that—just checking things out was way beyond the call of duty. Anything else would require Gladio’s direct attention and an actual staff—things that would have to wait until after they’d returned with the Crystal.

He was lucky the armiger held any kinda book they had on hand because the floppy, leather-bound monstrosity Laura had given him was a pain in the ass to carry around. It looked ancient, like most things from Laura’s Pocket tended to, and he wondered how old it’d been before she’d placed it in null-time. The story actually seemed like a more old-fashioned version of their own journey, but with a whole lotta alien words like horses, elves, and roasted chicken, which, because of Laura’s influence, Gladio couldn’t help but imagine as a roasted chocobo. Hell, even some of the main characters were aliens. But Gladio’d had a lotta fun so far roasting them for their shitty battle tactics and why the ever-living fuck those eagles couldn’t’ve just solved the entire problem in fifteen minutes.

Turning to the first page, he ran his fingers over the hand-written title and wondered just who the hell would take the time to write all this out. But then again, given the age of the book . . . maybe they hadn’t had printers back then.

**_There and Back Again…_ **

**_A Hobbit’s Tale, By_ **

**_Bilbo Baggins_ **

**_&_ **

**_The Lord of the Rings_ **

**_By_ **

**_Frodo Baggins_ **

“How much longer we got to go in this thing, anyway?” he muttered partially to himself, partially to Laura, as he flipped to the back page of the book. He was about to keep turning past the few blank pages at the end when he caught the flash of the same handwriting at the bottom of one of the pages and stopped to read the inscription.

_Laurelín, I don’t understand why you requested to be removed from my story, but I’ve given the revised version to Sam. Here is the original version, with no accounts omitted._

_Please stay with him for at least a little while after I’ve left. He has Rosie, Elanor, and little Frodo, but I fear the loss of both of us at once would be too much for his tender heart to bear._

_I cannot thank you enough for your assistance on our journey._

_May the light of the Valar shine upon you, always._

_Fondest regards, Frodo_

Of course, she’d given him some damn historical account and not an actual book. Gladio wondered if any of them would write an account of their trip when this was all over. Would she carry it with her to share with someone else in however many thousands of years from now? It’d have to either be him or Iggy; Noct and Prompto would probably wanna make something dumb like a videogame or something about it. Still, it was worth putting some thought into.

With a new outlook and level of gravity, now that the characters were actually real people, Gladio reviewed what he’d read so far. He’d had his suspicions about the character Laurelín for a long time now, but it was only once he’d read the note that he’d remembered—her full first name _was_ Laurelín. He’d only heard her full, long-ass name once by a campfire the night they’d all lost everything, so he’d had more important things on his mind at the time. Feeling pretty bad about mocking the battles now, he flipped to where he’d last left off and began reading, even more eager to find out what had happened to Laura’s friends after the Ring was destroyed. Much as he kept trying to concentrate on the story though, the annoying squeak of laser fire and trash talk coming from the other room was making it difficult.

“Hey,” he called out. “Shut the door, will ya? Tryin’ to read over here.”

“Sorr-ee, Grandpa,” Prompto said with a laugh, getting up to close the pocket doors between the bedroom and the parlor.

Gladio’s eyes raced across the page faster and faster as Frodo and company set out from Minas Tirith to head back to Rivendell. He was so engrossed in what would happen on their journey back—there were just so many pages left for things to happen after the final battle—that he almost missed the soft sigh and puff of breath across his chest. But he hadn’t, and it took a hell of an effort to keep from jumping out of his skin.

“Ignis.”

Looking down, he saw two clear, blue, completely scourge-free eyes fluttering open.

***

“He’s still not picking up,” Noct said. “I’ll send him another text and keep trying.”

“I’m not surprised,” Gladio said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “She said he’d feel it when she woke up, but she was too weak to make a connection. He’s probably jumping over the godsdamn canals himself to get here.”

Gladio had been pacing back and forth for the past forty-five minutes, impatient to get Iggy’s return over with—because Iggy was gonna skin him alive with one of his daggers and turn his hide into a sparkly, tattooed button-down for him to wear out—hopefully at least on fancy occasions. He couldn’t imagine what other reaction he was gonna get when Ig came back to find the bed empty and his formerly dead girlfriend gone.

When the door finally slammed open, it was almost like Iggy had warped to the bedroom, he’d gotten there so fast. Gladio froze mid-pace in front of the bed.

“Iggy,” Gladio managed to get out, but Ignis had already seen the empty bed, had probably already deduced that the loss of whatever kinda telepathic connection had re-established in his head meant that she was gone. Iggy’d already whirled on Gladio, taking two long strides with clenched fists and fiery green eyes as he walked Gladio back against the wall behind him. Gladio was starting to think that whole skinning him alive thing wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility; he’d never seen Iggy this pissed off, not even that one time he’d sneaked Noct out to a bar for his birthday and gotten injured defending him from a drunk asshole.

“Gladiolus Amicitia,” he began in a dangerously low and threatening voice, but it seemed to grow in volume, fury, and even a little fear with each additional word, “you _promised_ me. Where. Is. My. WIFE?!”

Did he just . . . what the _fuck_? Despite the messenger of death currently staring him down, Gladio’s eyes flickered briefly to where Noct and Prompto stood frozen, as though they too had stopped partway to reaching him when they’d heard the word ‘wife’ leave Iggy’s lips. He quickly eyed Iggy’s gloved hands, not remembering seeing a ring on them when he’d put his gloves on before leaving.

They’d known each other just shy of three months, when the fuck could this have possibly even happened? He tried to picture it—Iggy in that sparkly velvet tux of his and Laura in some shimmery white princess dress covered in diamonds . . . standing outside the gas station at Hammerhead or next to a pile of birdshit at Wiz’s, and he just couldn’t do it. Not only that, Iggy was still so damn young to be getting married, not even taking into account that Laura was laughably older than him and a different species.

Oh, Ramuh’s rigid rod, they’d given Iggy and Laura an entire day free just before the battle; they hadn’t done it then, had they? Had they only been married a single day before she died?

“Eyes forward!” Ignis barked. “I demand an answer.”

“She had to leave, Ig,” Gladio said quietly, hoping his tone would calm him down some. “She’d been in some kinda Time Lord healing coma, whatever the hell a Time Lord’s supposed to be. Guess they look dead when they do that. She recovered just enough energy to leave so she could heal and recharge, but if she stayed here, this universe was gonna drain her and she was gonna die.”

Watching Laura disappear before their eyes had really brought to light just how stupid Gladio had been in not beheading her when she’d been infected, even if everything had worked out for the best. Sure, she always could do shit with magic that none of them ever could, but he’d witnessed her turning translucent gold as she faded in and out, making a weird grinding wheezing sound before letting go of her solid form and dissipating into nothingness. No amount of chains, runes, or locked doors could’ve stopped that kind of power of the gods, and if daemons retained the powers they’d had in life, everyone on Eos could’ve been fucked because of his shitty decision.

Seemed like Iggy and Noct weren’t the only ones who needed ass kicking now and again.

The fire extinguished immediately from Iggy’s eyes as he stumbled backward to sit down hard on the edge of the bed behind him.

“No,” he exhaled bleakly. “Though . . . I suppose it’s no less than I deserve.”

His entire body seemed to sag as he stared down at his hands in silence, his shoulders and back curling down and inward, and Gladio rushed on with the rest of her message so he’d understand there was no reason for this hopeless despair.

“She’s coming back though. Said she’d have to time travel, so she can’t give an exact time—something about temporal resistance and the Blinovitch Limitation Effect or some shit. I dunno. But within the next coupla days.”

A bitter chuckle escaped Iggy’s lips as he shook his head down at the floor. “You can’t know that. The last time we spoke didn’t exactly end on excellent terms. I . . . misjudged her grievously.”

Even though he’d just voluntarily alluded to it, Gladio knew Iggy would never tell the full story of what had happened on that altar, but it must’ve been something pretty dramatic if he thought she’d leave him over it. Laura hadn’t even left that day Gladio had come within a hair’s breadth of slitting her throat after Insomnia fell. But whatever had happened, it might’ve been why she’d been so adamant about leaving proof of her return.

Gladio pulled the necklace out of his jacket pocket, taking a second to get one last look at the sparkling blue crystal, the mythril tree, and the shadow of the house key that was buried in the back. What was so damn important about this necklace for the both of them? Laura had worn it before they’d met—probably long before Iggy had even been born. Letting the pendant dangle from the chain, he held it out in front of Iggy’s face so that it swung back and forth in front of his eyes.

“Here, she left this as her promise,” he said as Iggy’s head snapped up, and Gladio let go as Iggy grasped for the pendant, cradling it in his hands as though it were the most precious item in existence. “She told me to call you a fracking idiot and say that you forgot ‘Scientia.’”

That particular part of her message hadn’t made much sense to Gladio when she’d mentioned it, but the pieces were starting to come together now that the word ‘wife’ was involved. Prompto had told him after that first trip to the prison that only Laura’s full name would release the clasp and that only Iggy knew what it was. It sounded like the moron had tried to remove it and forgotten to add his own damn name to the end of hers.

The wide-eyed look of hope and wonder in Iggy’s eyes as he looked back up at Gladio just about stabbed him in the heart. “Really,” he tried to remark in a casual tone, but Gladio wasn’t buying it. “I suppose I hadn’t considered . . ..” He fell silent as he secured the chain around his neck, the pendant hanging just below his skull amulet, and grasped it tightly, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

“So!” Prompto interrupted the moment, skipping to the other bed, bouncing down on it, and crossing his legs. “Laura’s alive! And she’s gonna be back in the next few days, so we can all be happy now, right?”

“At least I’ll have plenty to keep me busy in the meantime,” Iggy said with a sigh. “There’s a dispute going on about which government is to pay for the restoration efforts, the brick layers’ union is demanding hazard pay for working in a post war-zone, and absolutely no one has done a survey as to the extent of the damages yet—let alone set up a timeline for repairs. The flood damage is nearly as considerable as the infrastructural damage.”

“Yeah, that sound real interesting,” Noct said in a low voice, sitting down next to Prompto on the bed, “But I just gotta ask . . . wife?”

“Ahh, yes. This wasn’t how I intended to tell you,” he began, smoothing out the fabric of his pants as he looked down at his lap. “That telepathic connection—a piece of her mind resides permanently in mine, and mine in hers. By the customs of her people, we’re married.”

Gladio had never figured Iggy to be the type to fall head over heels and start dating, fucking, then marrying a girl all in the span of three months. He’d thought theirs was just an intense first love, something that could, perhaps one day, grow into something more. But Iggy’d surprised the fuck out of them all more than once on this trip, and Gladio was starting to believe he hadn’t known a single damn personal thing about the guy until they’d left. Maybe in addition to being a blade-wielding, element using, gourmet cooking, ballroom dancing, smartass, suave, manipulating motherfucking genius, he was also secretly a reckless, rebellious romantic.

But his shocking revelation really only brought into sharp relief just how fucked up these last two weeks had been for him. Gladio figured the loss of the head thing must’ve been hard on him, but he hadn’t known it was some kinda permanent alien marriage connection. What must the loss of that physical embodiment of his relationship have felt like? Gladio didn’t really wanna know. He imagined it was bad enough exchanging rings and losing a spouse to death, let alone brains.

“I’m really happy for you, Specs,” Noct said in a small voice. “And . . . I’m so sorry for what I said the other day about you and Laura not being as close. Six, that must’ve sounded bad.”

Gladio didn’t know what Noct had said to Iggy, but he knew Noct was really able to stick his foot in it whenever feelings were involved. There hadn’t been much time between Laura waking up and leaving, but Gladio’d noticed Noct had been a bit . . . off since she’d woken up. He’d known Noct had never been particularly close to Laura, so he’d thought it was just awkwardness at how far she’d gone in protecting them on the altar. But maybe it was more than that—jealousy, perhaps, that Iggy’s wife had come back from the dead when Luna hadn’t. It was an ugly emotion, but it was real—something Gladio couldn’t blame Noct for feeling—as long as he didn’t act on it.

“The fault was mine for not telling you, and for that I must ask your forgiveness,” Iggy said, meeting Noct’s eyes gravely. “There was a bit of an adjustment period after it happened, and then it hardly seemed appropriate to bring the matter up that day.”

“’Adjustment period,’” Noct said, narrowing his eyes. “Was that what Cape Caem was all about?”

Iggy’s gaze turned glittering and hard as he replied, “Yes, and the entire process was completely mutual, pre-planned, and voluntary, so I’ll thank you not to blame her for my inadequacies during that time.”

“You know,” Prompto interrupted before Noct could respond, “we should really have a meeting once a week or something and make sure everyone’s up to speed on all these revelations.”

“Well I, for one, have nothing left to reveal,” Ignis said tiredly. “My entire being has been laid bare these last two weeks, and yet I can’t currently bring myself to care.”

“Good,” Gladio replied. “Hopefully that means you’ll stop hiding shit from us, stop hiding your thing with Laura from us. Think we’ve all been through enough together now to prove that we’re family.”

The room fell into silence for several moments as they all nodded, careful not to make direct eye contact with anyone in particular.

“I was born in Niflheim,” Prompto blurted out suddenly, and Gladio’s eyes darted over to see him hunched over, his expression hidden as he stared down at his hands. “While we’re confessing . . . not exactly something I could tell people growing up in Lucis.”

Gladio looked over to Noct to see his reaction, but the Prince was only staring at Prompto in silence, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You guys are like . . . the only friends I’ve ever known. I just hope that things can stay the way they were,” Prompto continued in a low, trembling voice.

“Whatever,” Noct scoffed. “Who cares where you were born?”

While Gladio held the exact same opinion, Noct’s sheltered-ass upbringing in the Citadel, even his community service and public schooling in the wealthy and middle-class districts, kept him far away from immigrants that had come in before the borders had shut down or the Glaives brought in fresh from the outlands for their talent. Since leaving Insomnia, Gladio had been surprised to learn that the segregation and unrest had been even worse than he’d thought. Noct’s ignorance wasn’t all that shocking, as the kid often couldn’t see past his own face most of the time, but Gladio would’ve thought Ig would’ve had a better overview of the political situation than that.

Had Prompto only been pretending to be surprised this whole time to cover up his origins? Gladio couldn’t blame him for that, if so.

When they all got back to the Citadel and took over, that was gonna be one of the first things they took care of—making sure they, the ones in charge, didn’t get so locked up in their Citadel towers that they were no longer in touch with the people.

“I don’t see you turning against us. Not now, or ever,” Iggy added with a slight quirk of the lips.

Ignorant and innocent as it was, Noct and Iggy’s attitude was a good one to start off with as King and Advisor, but they didn’t really understand the magnitude of what Prompto had just confessed. They were all gonna have to do better recognizing the hardships others had had to go through because of things that couldn’t be helped.

“You always got a place here with us,” Gladio said, reaching over to slap Prompto hard on the back.

“Once this is all over,” Noct said thoughtfully, “I say we break down the borders—come together as one nation. We’re gonna make this world a better place. Whaddya say?”

The kid was thinking big, no doubt about it, almost like a king, but there were more than a couple of issues with such an idealistic view of things. Even Iggy was opening his mouth to bring the kid’s big heart back down to reality, but Gladio caught his eyes and shook his head. There’d be time to let him know that Accordo, Tenebrae, and Niflheim would probably have some objections to being brought under Lucian rule, no matter how good his intentions. Hopefully, he was just referring to the outlands, though. In the meantime, maybe thinking like a king would get him to put that godsdamn ring on and actually get him to become one.

“Ever at your side.”

“Always.”

“You bet.”


	57. Chapter 57

Regis leaned closer to the smooth, polished stone, inspecting the lines of the bust that were supposed to be familiar, as he had, in fact, seen his own face in the mirror at least a time or two before. Yet for all that he trusted Saxum’s experience creating similar busts for the Caelum family for the past two generations, he couldn’t help but wonder if his resting expression were truly so cold, so befitting of a future Lucii. That he should even have to endure this show of vanity was unfortunate. However, as all one hundred and twelve of his forebears had managed to find the time to have their official busts placed just outside the Hall of History, he supposed he could hardly be the first to break tradition.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked under his breath as he turned to Clarus. A lifetime of hushed conversations in this lofty, echoing throne room had taught them both well how to speak at just the right volume so as not to be overheard by whatever subject awaited his word on the dais below.

“I think you’re getting old, and not even the ever-flattering Royal Artist can mask that fact anymore,” Clarus said with a smirk.

“Thanks for the encouragement, old friend,” he said, chuckling and shaking his head. “Still, it’s better than the alternative.”

Because the alternative wouldn’t occur until Noctis was old enough to undergo his trials.

But no, as fresh as the wound still was, he couldn’t dwell on such thoughts.

Clarus gave a little chuckle of his own, reaching out to tweak the nose of the bust. “One thing I’ll never shield you from is the truth.”

Turning toward Saxum and noting his back bent with the weight of time, his gnarled hands, and his knees that seemed to tremble beneath his trousers every now and then, Regis wondered if he would make it to the prodigious age the old sculptor had managed. Even if fate would have allowed for such a thing, he doubted he had the stubborn pride to do so. As many times as Regis insisted that Saxum sit on a bench off to the side as he and Clarus inspected his work, the old man had most respectfully declined, insisting that decorum required that he remain standing in the presence of royalty. Regis supposed it was a small mercy the old man hadn’t insisted on genuflecting the entire time as the subjects of old.

He was about to inform Saxum that his services had been satisfactory and that he would be sending a messenger to his shop the following day to compensate him for his artistry when the door hidden in the alcove on the balcony to his left opened silently. A small, sandy-hair boy stepped out, carefully closing the door behind him without making a sound, but as Ignis realized he’d already caught Regis’s attention, he froze and immediately dropped into a deep bow.

 “Ignis,” he greeted.

“Please forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty.”

As always, there was a serious calm surrounding the boy, a wisdom that reflected the age he seemed to possess beyond the short nine years he had spent on this eos. Regis had seen that serene, rational, yet commanding presence in him even at three years old and knew that such a prodigy would be a perfect Chamberlain for his somewhat boisterous infant of a son. Few knew of House Scientia’s illustrious history, as the family had been cast into the anonymity of lower nobility after the fall of Solheim and Ifrit’s betrayal—and had languished ever since in that purgatory. But the Caelum house was old enough to remember, and Regis by no means took the weight of their line less seriously simply because of something as silly as perceived wrongdoings. The union of Houses Scientia and Étoile, with its strong connections to the Fleurets, made the boy family—even if only distantly. When Caeli had suggested his nephew as a possible advisor and mentioned that Ignis had undergone their family’s divine naming ceremony, becoming the first Ignis Scientia in their house in thousands of years, Regis suspected that the very heavens had aligned to create the perfect advisor, especially after having met him.

Of course, he hadn’t anticipated just how soon and how much the boy would have to undertake in the role after the death of his dear Aulea, and Astrals, the naming of his son as the Chosen. Regis wasn’t quite aware what, precisely, the roles of Chosen King, Advisor, Shield, and the Unnamed Soldier would require beyond a vague representation depicted in the painting just outside, but three of the four boys’ fates had already been sealed, unbeknownst to them. His own bright, somewhat rebellious, precious boy and Ignis, the most dedicated and intelligent boy he’d ever encountered—who’d become almost as a second son to him—would at some point in their lives be stripped of their innocence and forced to march off to the ultimate war. And Clarus . . . the Amicitia family had already sacrificed so much in the name of Caelum; the strapping young Gladio would only be the latest in a very long line.

But such was the way of the world, was it not? Noct would find his own way to complete his journey, much as he himself had done all those years ago, whether his friends accompanied him on his mission or merely assisted at the end.

“Not at all, my boy. Not at all. Please, come closer,” he said, beckoning him with a hand, and it was only at his words that Ignis straightened from his bow and stiffly approached. “Clarus and I would like your opinion on the Royal Bust.”

Ignis approached the throne, slowly circling the temporary stand on which the statue had been placed for Regis’s viewing convenience and leaning in to study the stone as though he were the one being evaluated for his artistic criticism abilities. After several moments, he stepped back and bowed his head.

“It’s quite well-done, Your Majesty. I believe in the style of the Tonitrusian Era? And a very good likeness,” he said in a quiet, genteel tone.

Clarus snorted, attempting to hold back his mirth and failing miserably, and Regis shot him a look before turning back to Ignis, who seemed upset at Clarus’s reaction and was furrowing his brow in distress.

“I do hope I haven’t inadvertently said something to offend. You have my most sincere apologies, if that is the case.”

Wondering if the boy would ever get the chance to exercise those diplomatic skills of his before fate took over, Regis answered, “No, son. What is it you came here for?”

He knew the answer already—Noctis. Ignis never approached him for anything other than when Noctis’s safety, wellbeing, or happiness were compromised beyond Ignis’s precocious authority to influence.

“His Highness is feeling unwell after the blade warp lesson this afternoon and requests your company in his chambers this evening—if Your Majesty is available.”

“How are the lessons progressing?” he asked, though he knew already that Noct’s performance in his first lessons on his command of the Caelum powers left something to be desired.

Ignis seemed to hesitate only a moment before he responded truthfully. “I have my concerns about his proficiency, but it’s still too early to tell.”

“Thank you, and do send my regrets along, as I won’t be able to visit this evening.”

His son seemed to have noticed already that he was beginning to draw back, not only due to increased stirrings and whisperings from his contacts in Niflheim, but also because of his rapidly increasing enfeeblement. Perhaps he was being too soft on Noctis, but he didn’t wish the boy to watch his father grow weak and brittle as he waited for his turn to do the same. Not that Regis’s current tactic was without its own inherent suffering; Noctis would undoubtedly cease seeking his attention, and their already too-distant relationship would eventually grow cold. It was yet another aspect of fate Regis wasn’t looking forward to.

“Of course—” Ignis began, but a shuffling and scurrying echoing below them made Ignis turn in alarm and step in front of Regis as though shielding him from whatever threat may have entered the throne room unexpectedly.

Perhaps the boy should have been born an Amicitia.

Adopting a calm visage so as to appear to have complete confidence in his Crownsguard, he stepped around both Ignis and Clarus, who had taken his position in front of the both of them.

The entire shift of Crownsguard was standing at the ready in a circle around where Saxum had once stood, their weapons pointing inward. From Regis’s vantage point, he could see the top of a head, hooded in a dark blue velvet cloak that trailed on the floor around the figure. Blue-tinged black hair spilled out from beneath the hood, though the woman’s face was completely obscured from his view, lowered as it was. At her feet, Saxum lay on his knees, his forehead touching the floor in fearful prostration

Regis was about to demand what had stopped the Guard from bringing her down when the light from the window caught the silvery gossamer-thin shimmer of ice in the air, which seemed to form a sphere around the woman and Saxum that the Guard could not penetrate. There existed no one in the kingdom that he knew of that could command magic to such a degree outside of his authority, not even the Auburnbries—except perhaps the Astrals. Still, it would be foolish of him to make assumptions.

“I assure you there is no need to take a hostage. If you have committed no crime beyond appearing in my throne room, you will be free to go when our conversation is over. Let us not allow matters to escalate into violence.”

“Curious words coming from the first instigator of such,” she replied in a dreamlike, accented monotone. If not an Astral, then she was clearly a member of high nobility—or a very skilled imitator. But her diction was slow, carefully enunciated, as though she weren’t accustomed to speaking in this tongue. “My actions are borne of defense alone. I did not wish for your artist to be trampled due to what you all _believed_ to be my sudden appearance.”

Regis glanced down at Ignis and paused. “Do I have your permission to dismiss the boy? He is of no importance to these negotiations.”

The girl, for she did appear more a girl than a woman, looked up suddenly, her sharp, inhuman gaze locking immediately on Ignis, who stared back passively, unafraid. But Regis had grown somewhat alarmed, because whatever this visitor was, she wasn’t human. Burning, glowing sapphire eyes lit up the unnatural darkness under her hood, casting an eerie light on her pale cheeks sparkling with flecks of bright snow, which was evidence enough, as he couldn’t discern the rest of the features of her face.

Regis wasn’t close enough to read this girl’s aura, and he honestly saw no reason to until he heard her demands. He could, however, understand why Saxum had identified her as a god—there were only so many beings in the world with power such as hers, to be certain. But Regis was old and experienced enough by now to know that there lay secret pockets in the crevices of the world in which lurked arcane beings originating from a time before modern memory. Gilgamesh was only one of these. However, even these beings were merely a step below divinity and not to be trifled with.

But given his son’s recent naming, she was probably a Messenger, or perhaps a High Messenger, which seemed more likely, given her display of power and what he could now see were Saxum’s lips at the hem of her cloak. He’d never spoken to the Astrals beyond Bahamut in the Crystal, but he had heard of the Messenger that had taken up residence with Lady Lunafreya and of the woman’s _relative_ normality. There seemed to be nothing human of this woman, however.

“That boy’s importance can never be understated; however, he is, of course, free to go. As I have said, I take no hostages.”

It was only as Regis turned to Ignis that the boy broke eye contact with the woman. “To your chambers, immediately,” he said softly,” and do not leave them until I’ve sent for you. Understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said with a bow before turning and striding to the side door without another glance back. But Regis watched the girl’s gaze closely, noting that her sharp eyes followed Ignis’s every movement in almost wistful concern as he passed the columns of the alcove and exited through the side door.

The gods had already laid claim to his son—what could they possibly want with Ignis?

As soon as the door behind Ignis had silently closed, the girl lowered her head and dropped to a crouch, provoking the Crownsguard into leaning forward, pressing the points of their various blades into the shield, which shimmered in protest.

“Back away, all of you,” Regis commanded.

Ignoring everything beyond the walls of her protection, the girl laid her long-fingered, pale hands, which seemed to glow with a faint aura of bluish light, on Saxum’s arms.

“Hello,” she said gently, but that tone in her voice still sounded ethereal, almost distracted. “What is your name?”

“Saxum Rufus, Your Worship, your most humble servant at your service.”

“Saxum Rufus . . . you need not bow to me. Allow me to . . . assist you in standing.”

“Your Holiness, I simply couldn’t—” he began, but he was already gazing enraptured up at her face as she aided him by the elbows to his feet.

The girl reached out to cup the man’s cheeks, and Regis believed he saw the movement of a tender smile cross her lips from under the hood. “Old bones need not bend to true benevolence, Saxum Rufus. You are free to . . . do as your King commands.”

Though she had shown no evidence of malevolence, Regis was eager to remove all innocent parties from the throne room before the mercurial nature of such an entity altered the rules of engagement.

“You are free to go, Saxum. I shall send a messenger to the shop tomorrow with your payment. Excellent work, as always, dear friend.”

“Your Majesty,” he replied with a bow before turning to the girl. “Allow me the honor of gazing upon the Mother’s face one last time.”

“One never knows what the . . . future may bring, Saxum Rufus,” the girl replied sweetly, “but the flattery is most . . . appreciated. You had better do as your King commands.” She tilted her chin to the side, and the iridescent shield disappeared. As Saxum backed out of the throne room, keeping his gaze locked on the High Messenger, she turned to watch him go for several moments before facing forward once more.

“To what do I owe the honor of such a visit?” Regis asked.

“Regis Lucis Caelum,” she began in a grave, commanding tone, her distraction seeming to disappear. “I come in regard to Ignis Scientia.”

“What of him?” Regis asked in concern. While he had not severed ties with the Six, his cooperation with them had become more of a reluctant necessity since the naming of his son as Chosen. Their cold willingness to sacrifice his effervescent, sweet child to the fate of the world had brought to light their cruelty. But even he, with the power of one hundred and twelve of his ancestors at his back, could not hope to challenge the will of divinity. That they would be asking directly after his second ‘son,’ so soon after demanding his first, sent a shiver of unease through him at what more the gods might require of him before this accursed endeavor was completed.

“The stars watch over Ignis Scientia, for he is most beloved by the goddess. Tell me, what is his current age?”

“He has just turned nine.”

“Then this is the year that the gods have need of him.”

“What more will you take from me?” Regis demanded, though he kept his tone low and calm. “What more will you take from Noctis?”

“Ignis Scientia will be returned to you both. When the trees don their royal raiment before their rest, the Glacian will come for the boy. For two celestial rotations, he will appear to be missing.” Her voice grew cold and stern as she continued, “Not a single member of your family or staff will make mention of his absence to him when he returns, or they will suffer my wrath. Do you understand?”

“For what need could the gods possibly have the boy?” he asked, knowing she would be unlikely to answer.

“That is not knowledge that mortal ears need hear, save Ignis himself. It is imperative that not a single soul breathe a word of his absence or experience to him or one another.”

“I understand. Will he be all right?”

A burning pain seemed to radiate up his left hand as swirls of gold appeared in the goddess’s eyes, but it disappeared when he took a step back—a power not meant to be wielded by mortals, perhaps?

“The tides of time ebb and flow concurrently. He will be returned to you, he is returning to you, he has been returned to you. All will be, is, and was well with him,” she said in a faraway voice. As the gold faded from her glowing eyes, she continued, “I have said what I came to say, and with that, I take my leave.”

She took a step back, but Regis held out a hand, saying, “Wait, what of my son?”

Those eerily glowing eyes met his again, and he regretted not descending for this meeting so that he might have caught a better glimpse of the goddess’s face.

“When next you see me, our topic will only pertain to the matter of Noctis. I would ask that you be more forthcoming, but I know you will not. Until we have met again, Regis Lucis Caelum.”

Regis was about to protest her leave taking when she looked up to the ceiling, that gold appearing in her eyes once more as it overtook her body, transforming her corporeal form into swirling wisps of sparkles. An incongruous whining, grinding sound filled the air, echoing off the polished floors and high ceiling of the throne room until she disappeared.

As the Crownsguard warily took up their usual posts in the alcoves along the wall, Clarus stepped closer and said, “What do you make of it?”

Regis blew out a breath of a bitter laugh through his nose. “From the gods? Trouble. Only trouble, my friend.”

“Do you intend to obey her instruction?”

“As usual, what choice have I?”


	58. Chapter 58

Though it was terribly ill-mannered of him to do so, Ignis took a furtive sip of his Ebony as the foreman of one of the brick laying companies finished his speech and sat back down in his seat at the long conference table. At least he hadn’t opened the can in the middle of the man’s discussion as the woman three seats down from him had—he wasn’t completely uncivilized. He was unaccustomed to these more lax, informal rules of order—they had even provided _snacks_ of all things, as though this were First Year. He half expected the First Secretary to call nap time after two hours.

Taking another quick sip before the next person began speaking, this time about the city-wide transportation issue and the need to replace gondolas with the vaporetto system, Ignis swallowed quickly and put down his Ebony to take notes, suppressing the physical response to the shiver that seemed to lick its way down his spine in every moment since the day she . . ..

Ebony—black and dead like his heart—lacking flavor, lacking depth, like everything else he’d forced down his throat in an effort to satisfy Gladio . . . and now Noct in these past two weeks. The world had been painted in shades of black and grey since that day. He was dripping with that dull flatness, like the scourge that kept choking him in his sleep and coating his clothes as he donned his uniform every morning, now transformed to the black of mourning as he grieved for his wife and his king.

He’d tried his best to tell Noct as obliquely as he could of his fate, but he’d turned coward, fearful of breaking Time and disrespecting Rose’s memory when his loose lips ended the world after she’d died to save it. But Noct’s words only further convinced Ignis that the Prince was beginning to realize his higher calling, to pay whatever cost so that those who had walked to their gallows had not done so in vain. He would need to tell Noct at some point, perhaps when he appeared closer to the age that he had been in Ignis’s vision. He didn’t think he could bear to dash Noct’s hope when there was apparently still such a long road ahead of them. For now, he was the sole silent bearer of foreknowledge—the bearer of Rose’s mantle—and he was adopting the same practices for which he had once cursed her. Perhaps, by the time Noct’s final days had reached them, Rose would have awakened from death to assure him that time wouldn’t simply stop if he spoke of his vision.  

It had taken days for him to realize just how much of his life existed because of her—things that made him happy—his sleep, his time, the coffee he’d grown to prefer, the bread she made from flour not of this universe, or the scent of pine mixed with kithairon. These things were merely illusions tied to her existence, and now that she was gone, they would never exist again save for in his imperfect memory. With every recollection that passed across the backs of his eyelids, he would frantically scrabble after each nuance, each scent, each sound, each emotion, writing everything down so that he wouldn’t ever forget a single moment.

Even as he lay by her body every evening, basking in the feeble glow of her golden aura, he would often gasp awake, clutching desperately for the silent necklace in an effort to contact _someone_ who would reassure him that it hadn’t all been a dream, that he had once been happy. And then he would lie awake, his ear pressed to her still chest, punishing himself by inhaling against the ache in his lungs until he felt as though he would break apart from the pain. The worst had been those first two nights after they’d brought her body back to the hotel, where he couldn’t sleep, and it had been tears and whispered words into the ears of the dead that he’d pressed into her, desperate to wash himself clean of that bloody bath and to let her know how inconsolably sorry he was.

Since then, he felt as though he were delicate, constantly on the verge of shattering, as though he were a spun ornament that had been dropped so as to develop a fatal unseen crack and was just waiting for the right touch to break him into a thousand pieces. The sting of Gladio’s and Noct’s cruel words—even the occasional remark from Prompto—echoing in his ears hadn’t exactly helped, but they didn’t understand. It was his fault they didn’t understand, but he would endure any spears flung in his direction if it meant not having to set the record straight, to admit just how spectacularly he’d failed.

“And in the matter of funding, I’m sorry to say that Accordion funds will not be nearly enough to cover the devastation from the goddess and the Empire. Ignis Scientia, Senior Advisor to the King of Lucis, has prepared some possible solutions for us,” the First Secretary announced, and the entire table turned to face him.

Gathering the papers for his report, Ignis stood.

Despite his mind’s insistence on clinging to the dimming and distant happiness of his past and the misery that was now his present, Ignis knew he must move on. His wife was dead, and her death had been entirely his fault. He knew he would never so much as glance at another again—a widower for life—but at the very least, he’d gotten to experience her light, that moment of completeness before she burned out like a dying star.

He must endure—it was expected of him, and he always did that which was expected of him because someone always expected something of him, everything of him. It was his responsibility to appear as though everything were all right, a skill he had managed and excelled at his entire life. Noct was in the same boat as he, and it was imperative that he appear capable of handling the consequences of his actions for the Prince’s sake.

“Thank you, First Secretary. The truth of the matter is that all those willing to offer aid have long been at war with Niflheim and thus have little in the way of funds. Thus, we will have to employ creativity to bring Altissia back to her former glory. I recommend drawing carpenters and other craftsmen in through incentive programs, which I’ve outlined on page three of the report you received at the beginning of the meeting.

“Additionally, Altissia boasts a relatively low daemon population, which would be a fine point to make when attempting to attract possible craftsmen . . ..”

It was the weakest, most feeble spark, and the bridge a tenuous thread of connection, but after the weeks of shivering and shuddering in the dark and cold, she may as well have been a bonfire.

_Rose!_

But the sound of it seemed to echo in his own head, the foundation of the bridge too weak to support his call. He would need to leave—now, no matter how impertinent it was to do so.

“I’m afraid I must humbly beg your pardon,” he managed as evenly and with as much dignity as he could, recalling that at least twenty-seven dignitaries and foremen were staring up at him. “A life-or-death matter has just come to my attention, and I must leave immediately to see to it. You will find all my observations and solutions are thoroughly outlined and explained in my report.”

Gathering his things, he rushed out of the door toward the Leville.

***

It wasn’t until Ignis’s peripheral vision caught that flash of blue and silver dangling in front of him that he began to feel the shattered shards of his heart begin to piece themselves back together and the dark thread and bridge in his head ache a little less. Ignis may have betrayed his wife to her death, but that was no reason to leave Eilendil behind—unless she truly was going to return. He’d attempted several times over the past week to contact the dragon, but as he was not telepathic and they did not share a bond, he was unsurprised to find only silence. He had hoped, however, that the dragon would have thought to reach out to him; after all, Eilendil had lost his lifelong bond partner as well.

He was therefore unsurprised to hear nothing as he grasped Eilendil’s heart between his palms, but there was something warming in his chest—hope—that she would return soon, and he would at least have the opportunity to make reparations for the unforgiveable. That he hadn’t been able to remove the necklace in the first place proved that she hadn’t forgiven him for breaking his life-oath to her, and rightly so. She may never forgive him his transgressions.

Or so he thought, until he heard Gladio’s words.

“She told me to call you a fracking idiot and say that you forgot ‘Scientia.’”

Ignis whipped his eyes up to Gladio’s, certain that he’d misheard. Scientia? Oh, Rose, she had cared _that_ much for him that she had been willing to permanently add his name to her own? He couldn’t help it—that flash of prideful ownership at the thought of her carrying his name, of her _wanting_ to carry his name.

“Really,” he remarked, trying for casual indifference, but the joyous laughter that was bubbling up in his lungs was making his vocal cords tremble as he attempted to stifle it. No doubt Gladio thought him mad. “I suppose I hadn’t considered . . ..”

To cover up the heat he felt spreading to his cheeks, he ducked his head under the guise of putting the necklace on, but he found he had to close his eyes and grasp at the pendant the moment it touched his skin because the sensation of a voice in his head, if not a presence, was something he had not felt for two weeks.

_Ignis Scientia._

_Eilendil!_

He was going to ask, demand, beg for why the dragon hadn’t contacted him at all in the last week, but he noted the weariness in his voice. Was it possible for a disembodied mind to grow fatigued? Given the state of his own thoughts, he supposed it was more than likely.

 _Are you all right?_ he asked the dragon.

“At least I’ll have plenty to keep me busy in the meantime,” Ignis said to the others with a sigh before listing all that had been covered in the meeting—the part he’d been present for, at least.

 _No,_ the dragon admitted distastefully. _For the last two of what you call weeks, I have poured my every resource into keeping that fool of a woman alive._

_Then you should have left with her to regain your strength. You can’t do so here, can you?_

_I cannot. However, I offered to stay behind._

As Noct sat down on the bed next to Prompto, he asked, “But I just gotta ask . . . wife?”

_Why would you offer such a thing?_

Ignis couldn’t imagine a single reason for Eilendil to stay behind except for his benefit, and he had gotten the impression that the dragon didn’t care much for him or his species, even as the enormous and somewhat intimidating creature had allowed him to ride on his back. He would have sooner believed Rose had asked him to stay behind, even if it was just as out of character for her to ask someone to make a sacrifice on her behalf.

 _Why do you think, human?_ he growled impatiently. _Would you have considered any other trinket she could have left behind with such weight?_

Though Ignis knew immediately his answer, he chose to fully concentrate on Noct’s question, as he deserved an explanation and sincere apology for his secrecy regarding his marriage. Rose had been right: he should have told them as soon as it had happened, as the delay had only made it more and more difficult over the passing weeks for him to confess.

_No, I wouldn’t have._

_Remember, Ignis Scientia, you are not the first who has loved her and betrayed her._

Indeed, that was certainly so. Though he was loath to compare their two sins, Ignis reluctantly admitted that Eilendil’s betrayal had been . . . perhaps on the same level or worse than his own, and yet he had long ago been forgiven and even been defended against Ignis’s now hypocritical outrage.

The idea gave him hope that everything could be all right.

_All of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again. I have traveled with her long enough to learn that nothing, even the darkest of nights, is the first of such._

That was a curious thing to say. _What do you mean by that?_

_Just as I say, Ignis Scientia. There is a poem from the Doctor’s future memories:_

_Demons run when a good man goes to war._

_Night will fall and drown the sun when a good man goes to war._

_Friendship dies, and true love lies._

_Night will fall, and the dark will rise when a good man goes to war._

_Demons run but count the cost; the battle's won, but the child is lost._

_Laurelín was that child—River Song, Harry Potter, Data Soong, Frodo Baggins, Lee Adama, Anakin Skywalker . . . even Ignis Scientia. War murders the childhood of all—kills friendship, love, life. You are fortunate that she is a reckless idiot that will forgive anyone she loves—as she did me._

There was, of course, another way to interpret that poem, one that involved Noct and his destiny, but as Ignis seemed to be doing more and more often these days, he shoved the thought aside.

After confession hour, dinner, cleaning up, laundry, and picking up the bedroom, Ignis took up his evening residence at the desk in the corner while the others readied themselves for bed. Their finances, despite not having recently collected any bounties, were doing surprisingly well, likely because the First Secretary had reserved the entire floor of the deserted hotel for whatever use they saw fit in exchange for Ignis’s insights and the others’ volunteer efforts on the temporary bridges. They’d grown used to sleeping in tight quarters, however, and the suite was hardly as cramped as the tent. He had a feeling that the restless insecurity they were all experiencing after the battle was the true reason no one had chosen to seek out his own room. Who would have thought that they all would have grown as close as to need each other like this?

He wondered how lonely it must be for Eilendil, without a body to experience the world and separated from Laura, with no one to share comfort after such a harrowing experience.

 _Eilendil? Are you still there?_ he asked as he stood, stretching his arms above his head and rolling his shoulders in an effort to relieve the tightness. Though he likely wouldn’t sleep at all this evening, he was certainly looking forward to getting under the covers, perhaps lessening that constant tingling shiver that always seemed to be trickling down his spine. Though it had attenuated somewhat at the reappearance of Rose’s thread and their bridge, the darkness of it had still left him feeling cold and empty.

Tenuous as their connection was, he and Eilendil could only share messages when they were directed at one another, and even then, only when the dragon was listening out for them, as Ignis couldn’t reach beyond his own head to send them. The situation wasn’t ideal. Ignis believed that the dragon had retreated into his own mind for the evening, and he was heading toward the en suite to get ready for bed when Eilendil finally answered.

_I am still here, Ignis Scientia._

_Have you ever been separated from her like this before?_

There were several moments of silence, and Ignis had just accepted that he was going to refuse to answer when he finally replied, _Not since I was a hatchling._

That meant that for the first time in his existence, every sensory organ Eilendil used to interact with the world around him, infrequently though he seemed to use it, had been cut off. Even for a being so old and experienced, the fear, chill, and disorientation at the loss must have been terrifying, to say the least—an ordeal he had volunteered to endure for Ignis’s benefit alone.

Though he and Laura had often used their mid-level connection for sexual purposes, it hadn’t always been so. Perhaps allowing the dragon access to his surface senses and thoughts would provide some means of comfort, even if the current state of his head was likely a mess. It seemed the least Ignis could do.

As he turned on the bathroom light and summoned his pajamas, Ignis said almost casually, _I’m not certain if this is a breach in some rules of your society, and please forgive the impertinence of this offer if it’s somehow inappropriate, but you are welcome to deepen the connection, if you wish._

He had gotten dressed and brushed his teeth, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror, before Eilendil finally responded with, _Never in my life have I connected with another being in such a way._

Ignis remained silent, allowing the dragon to work through whatever thoughts and emotions he was experiencing. This _was_ an offer of great weight, perhaps bordering on too personal and inappropriate, had his people still been alive to judge him for it. But Ignis was learning from experience that pain and loneliness endured for long enough could drive any being to extremes.

_Needy humans, I shall if you are incapable of being alone._

As he settled into the sheets and wrapped Rose’s blanket around himself, Ignis had to roll his eyes in the dark at the proud creature’s necessity to save face. Even as he folded his glasses to place on the bedside table, he could feel the weight of Eilendil’s consciousness hovering just outside his mind, waiting desperately for permission to enter.

 _Go on, then,_ he replied, doing his best to relax.

He was beginning to assume that each being that entered his mind (and precisely how many of those would do so in his lifetime?) had a distinct feeling, unique as a personality. Eilendil seemed to slither into his mind, rough and coarse like the more delicate scales of his underbelly, and curl into his consciousness like a cat. To his disappointment, Eilendil wasn’t warm or bright like Rose and thus did nothing to alleviate that ache in him, but it was comforting not to be alone in his grief for the same woman nevertheless. But the heartache and weight of the dragon’s consciousness in his felt . . . almost too heavy, too vast for him grapple with as Eilendil’s thoughts and emotions raced by too quickly for even Ignis’s Intuition to pick up on.

At his thoughts, Eilendil drew back a little, lessening the somewhat suffocating weight in his head.

_You humans are so fragile. And is this truly all you can see at night? It is no wonder you are all afraid of the dark._

_Well, if you’re going to complain . . .._

_It was merely an observation. You are fatigued, Ignis Scientia. Allow me to put you to sleep._

Sleep. Did such a thing still exist? He’d been managing two hours or so each night for the last two weeks despite going to bed soon after everyone else, and though exhaustion seemed to weigh him down like a stifling blanket, relief never seemed to come as he lay down and stared at the ceiling with an empty head and heart. It seemed that, after having been given a taste of a well-rested, healthily caffeinated body, he was incapable of functioning adequately as he had once done back in Insomnia, and he would need at least some alleviation if he was to undergo the conversation that needed to be had with Rose when she returned.

_Please._

_Then sleep, Ignis Scientia,_ Eilendil replied as Ignis felt his eyes grow heavy. _I shall be here when you awaken._

***

It was the spark in his brain that roused him from sleep, immediately clearing away any drowsiness as he bolted upright and flung the blanket aside. Completely unconcerned at the possibility of waking Noct, as it was a nearly impossible feat even when he was deliberately aiming to do so, Ignis swung his legs out and stood, striding toward the front door. But he froze when he realized that the bridge between them was still dark, and he couldn’t truly pinpoint a location from her golden thread.

_Eilendil, what does it mean?_

It was nearly a full minute of standing stock still in the parlor, his blood seeming to itch in his veins as he fought the urge to fidget, before Eilendil answered.

_She has returned to this universe, but she is speaking to your king in your past._

Eilendil sent him an image through Laura’s eyes: that heartbreakingly familiar throne room, with its polished onyx staircases that wound up to the focal point that was the gold and onyx throne—only Laura’s view of the seat of the King was obscured. Over the heads of an entire shift of Crownsguard pointing their weapons in her direction, Ignis could clearly identify His Grace Clarus Amicitia, young enough that his hair hadn’t yet gone completely grey, standing with a wide defensive posture in front of a similarly young King Regis. Peering out from between the two men was . . . a much, much younger version of himself.

Ignis remembered that day clearly—the otherworldly figure appearing suddenly in the throne room; those overly-large, eerie eyes glowing subtly from underneath a dark hood; how they seemed to bore into the core of his very being as her soft, careful voice informed everyone in the entire throne room, including the King, that Ignis’s importance could never be understated. Given the way Master Rufus was prostrated at her feet, she clearly had the authority of opinion. He recalled the wondrous rush of pride in his heart that this powerful being he’d never met seemed to instantly recognize his efforts and potential.

But until that moment, Ignis had never made the connection that the visit from the goddess had been solely for him, that the woman had been the same he had met out in Leide, the same he had met as an adult in the throne room. She had been wild, inhuman, borderline frightening in that minute he’d seen her—cool and detached instead of warm and cheeky as she so often seemed to be when infiltrating places she shouldn’t have been.  

_What’s happened to make her like that? What’s wrong with her?_

_The price of her crime. She will need your assistance when she returns._

_What do you mean by that?_ he asked in alarm as he headed toward the shower.

If Rose was to be returning to them soon, he would need to have everything ready before she arrived. Despite his remorse for his actions, they would still have to battle their way through the serious conversation he knew was coming, and even if she forgave him completely for his transgressions, he still had questions that would be difficult for her to answer. He’d thought long and hard since she’d left, imagining the worst possible answers she could give and finally concluding that he would forgive even those responses in respect to the hardest lesson he’d ever learned—that of their highest calling. But judging by her appearance all those years ago and Eilendil’s ominous words, there was yet another obstacle for them to overcome.

_As usual, you accept the sacrifice without asking the cost. She is bound by more rules than you could possibly know, child. She is tied to the ground by them. Yet she will always shatter them for those in her hearts, no matter the consequences. Do not shatter her hearts again, Ignis Scientia._

_I rather thought her **dying** for two weeks was the cost. Is she all right? _ As he stepped into the shower, he tried to push at the wall between them, to contact her, to check on her, but the bridge, though sturdy and solid once more in his head, remained dark and veiled. She had told him that their bond would transcend time and space, but not dimensions. Why couldn’t he contact her now if she was back in this universe?

_She will be well with time. You cannot speak to her because you are the inferior partner who expressed interest in parting ways when last you spoke. Procedure dictates that you solve the matter before attenuating your bond as much as is possible, but she was forced to do so before you could complete the process. She will not establish contact until you have physically given her permission to do so._

Ignis closed his eyes against the warm spray of the water hitting the top of his head and running down his back in rivulets, warming his skin but doing nothing to alleviate the cold he felt in his bones. If he had just kept a handle on his emotions that day, he could be speaking to her now. Perhaps, if he had kept a handle on himself, he could’ve figured everything out in time, and none of this would have happened at all.

 _Why were we cut off so abruptly? Was it because of the Chancellor’s spell?_ He tried his best to keep the jealousy out of his thoughts as he remarked, _It sounds as though you were able to maintain contact._

_She was infected the moment the spell hit her, and she cut down on the bond as much as she could in case the disease could be passed to you. I have no body to infect, and thus did not need to be cut off._

As Ignis emerged from the shower and went through his daily morning routine—shaving, doing his hair, checking over his finger and toenails, and plucking any stray hairs in his brow line—he tried not to let his eyes linger too long on the three scars that remained on his face despite his best attempts to heal them with his own magic. To those not in the know, he appeared to be just another man sporting the marks of war—a soldier, a survivor—which was what he supposed he was now. To him, however, they were a reminder of his failure, his stupidity, his betrayal every time he looked in the mirror.

_If they upset you so, ask Laurelín to heal them._

_I can’t ask that of her,_ he growled back, pressing his lips together against the raised scar there. _She’s healed me quite enough for one lifetime._

_Are all humans this dense? It will upset her that they upset you. A night’s rest is all it will require in payment, and stars know she sleeps far more than she needs to in order to match your schedule regardless._

As much as he couldn’t find it in himself to argue with the dragon’s logic, so much depended on how she was when she returned, how _they_ would be when she returned—so very soon now.

_I’ll think about it._

***

“How long do you estimate until Altissia can handle the full capacity of its citizenship, Mr. Scientia?” the First Secretary asked, and Ignis suppressed the desire to heave a weary sigh. He’d covered this information quite thoroughly in the report he’d left in the meeting two days ago, and she would know this answer if she had taken the time to read it for herself.

After preparing breakfast, waking the others, and fixing a hole in the seam of Noct’s trousers, Ignis had been most certainly reluctant to leave the room yesterday morning, knowing that Rose was back in the same universe and would be returning at any moment . . . until Eilendil informed him that he was being time dense. Even if she left Insomnia immediately in the Eternal Now, when she landed could be immediately or days from that moment from Ignis’s point of view. It had been for the best to simply resume his routine, frustrating though it was.

Though Ignis had masterfully kept up the façade of professional attentiveness, he’d barely been able to pay attention in yesterday’s meetings with that dull spark glowing in his mind, and he believed his impatience for her return was beginning to leak into his dealings with the reconstruction committee today as the hours passed by with no evidence of her arrival. Perhaps the inability of the committee to simply _read_ what was in front of them was also responsible for grating at his typically mythril nerves.

“As stated in my report,” he began—perhaps somewhat passive aggressively—"the true infrastructural damage is mainly limited to the Northern Isle, so your main problem lies in repairing the flood damage on the first floors of the majority of your buildings and, most importantly, repairing the city’s many bridges.”

Leafing through his stack of reports, he found the booklet he’d put together regarding Altissian transportation. “Now, according to last year’s census numbers, employment stats, and tourism data, even the most efficient of vaporetti schedules won’t compensate for the loss of bridges. I estimate the city could hold no more than thirty percent of its full capacity currently, with the current rate of bridge repairs taking up to ten years to see the city fully restored.”

“Ten years?!” the First Secretary exclaimed as a wave of indignant murmuring spread throughout the group.

Eilendil’s voice cut through the din, _Ignis Scientia, why are you telling her this?_

_I’ll not sugarcoat the results to make her feel better about her situation. She has a long, difficult journey ahead of her._

_Then do not coat your words in sugar. ‘For the Night when All comes to Naught,’ your Cosmogony has said. You have seen the future and are above time now, Ignis Scientia, the harbinger of ill news. Your eyes see the darkness which the rest of man does not. Tell them._

As Ignis’s weary eyes roamed over the group of people arguing and gesticulating at one another, he realized that Eilendil was right. He’d been thinking so narrow-mindedly, looking just around the corner for fear of putting the pieces together and seeing what was on the horizon for them all. He’d been thinking like the human child that he was instead of the prophet, the bearer of foreknowledge that he had now become. The idea made him feel so very old. But as much of a curse as the foreknowledge was, it was also a gift, for he had been placed in the position to best prepare his fellow man for the oncoming darkness.

Since the death of the Oracle, the rumors regarding longer nights had been increasing. Ignis had been corresponding with Sania Yeagre, following her unpublished research closely and studying the words in the Cosmogony carefully; there was clearly a correlation between the darkening sky and the darkness that Noct would die defeating someday. If they weren’t to finish this as soon as they got the Crystal back, Eos may very well lose daylight, leaving island nations such as Accordo stranded without means of providing for themselves. If the people were to survive, a different strategy needed to be undertaken, and a brave soul had to be the one to propose it.

“Let’s be frank, Madame First Secretary. As nights grow longer and the daemon populations continue to rise, production in both Lucis and Niflheim slows to a crawl, and basic goods become more and more difficult to obtain, it will only grow impossible to maintain any sort of standard of living here, dependent as you are on shipping. I recommend encouraging citizens to stay on the mainland until the matter has been settled.”

As Ignis’s final words were drowned out in a roar of protest from at least two dozen throats, assaulting his ears and encouraging a throbbing headache to take up residence in his temples, the spark in his head grew to a filament of glowing wire.

His wife had returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Demons Run poem from Doctor Who, of course.


	59. Chapter 59

Gladio, Noct, and Prompto were all on high alert, ready to summon their weapons at a moment’s notice as the porter led them downstairs. Gladio wished Iggy would answer his gods damn phone at times like these, but maybe the fact that he _wasn’t_ answering his phone was a clue that the stranger waiting for them downstairs was exactly who they were expecting it to be. Still, he didn’t see why Laura hadn’t just come up to the room with whatever power she always used when sneaking around.

“She said she knew you and that you were expecting her, but no one recognized her,” the porter said as they reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped. His voice dropped to a near whisper as he said, “She seemed . . . well, you’ll see her. Given all that’s happened, it didn’t seem safe to just send her up.” The guy gave them all a wide-eyed look and pointed to the dark wall underneath the stairs where they’d once checked out Umbra’s amulet.

“No. That was the right thing. Thanks,” Noct said, but Gladio hadn’t spared the porter a second glance since he’d spotted the back of the dark figure standing in the shadows. He couldn’t see much, which he supposed was kinda the point, since the porter had implied that something was wrong with the stranger. All he could tell was that it was a figure about Laura’s height wearing a long, dark cloak with the hood up. But the second Gladio stepped away from the stairs, he knew it was Laura. That weird feeling deep in his bones and the overwhelming urge to summon a weapon washed over him, just as it had those first few days out of Insomnia. Judging by the way Noct and Prompto’s steps faltered, they’d felt it too, and the three of them exchanged a wary glance before standing to block her from view of the rest of the lobby. Gladio had a feeling they were gonna need to, cause this was no doubt gonna be weird alien shit, as usual.

“Laura?” Noct asked through gritted teeth. No doubt the kid was probably in pain, as it seemed her energy thing always affected Noct more than anyone else.

The figure’s shoulders hitched up and down with a sigh, as though she was steeling herself, and turned slowly to face them.

“Holy shit. Laura? What happened to you?” Gladio blurted out before wincing. That probably hadn’t been the best way to react to her appearance.

Prompto reached out a tentative hand toward her shoulder but then grimaced a little as he pulled back. “Um . . . are you okay?”

Those eerie glowing blue eyes, seemingly too large for her face, fully dilated, and tilted at an angle, moved slowly as she focused on each of them one by one.

“I will be well with time,” she said in a dreamy, faraway tone, her gaze unfocusing as she seemed to stare through them. “How long has it been since last I was here?”

“Um, you were here a couple of days ago,” Noct said. “Why? How long’s it been for you?”

Laura hesitated before replying, “Let us not do this here. Am I permitted upstairs?”

“Totally!” Prompto said. “Why wouldn’t you be? Just cause you’re all . . . weird and stuff . . ..”

Laura dropped her head and strode past them, heading for the stairs. “How I have missed you all,” she said in a small, amused voice.

Exchanging one final glance at one another, the three of them followed behind her, and even Gladio had to lengthen his stride a little to keep up as she walked briskly down the hall and up the other set of stairs, the blue velvet of her cloak catching the light from the windows as it billowed out behind her. Girl sure knew how to do the dramatic fashion thing, that was for sure.

“We should call Iggy,” Gladio muttered as he pulled out his phone.

“That will not be necessary. He heard my mind as soon as I arrived. He shall be here momentarily.”

“So you’ve been here a while then?” Prompto asked as she stopped next to the suite door and stared at the carpet while Noct fished in his pocket for the key.

“Yes, for thirty-two of your minutes . . .,” she trailed off as Noct opened the door and gestured her inside first. “The minds crowding . . . so close. It becomes difficult to travel, difficult to think. And given the reactions I have received, I did not wish to startle you by appearing at your door.”

Standing in the middle of the parlor, she turned and raised her hands to the edges of her hood, and it was only then that Gladio noticed her hands. Not only were her fingers just this side of being too long to be considered human, her skin seemed to glow with a pale-blue aura, even in the daylight, that made it look like she was standing under a full moon. As she lowered her hood, he could see that her facial features were more angular, cat-like, and her cheeks were speckled with what looked like sparkling glitter.

If she hadn’t looked like Shiva before, she sure as fuck did now.

Laura’s blinked slowly, her long black lashes nearly touching her cheeks as she shook her head like she was clearing it. “To answer your question, I fear it took me much longer than anticipated to heal. The time magic . . . was depleted. Twelve years, forty days, seventeen hours, thirty-two minutes, and twenty-seven seconds passed before I could travel once more.”

“Holy fuck, Princess,” Gladio murmured under his breath.

Twelve years . . . he was surprised she even remembered to come back to them after that long. And what about Iggy? Yeah, they were married and had some kinda alien head connection, but they’d been in some kinda major fight before she left for over a decade. How could any relationship, especially one only three months old, endure a separation like that? And if her undead zombie ice princess appearance was anything to go by, she sure as hell hadn’t been asleep all that time.

“Well that’s . . . specific,” Prompto said quietly.

“Why do you look like that?” Noct asked. “What happened to you?”

“I returned home. I did not wish to remain there in an alien skin.” She frowned, a furrow creasing between her brows as her tone grew hesitant and vulnerable. “Ignis once expressed interest in seeing this form.” Her eyes dropped to the floor as her voice grew quieter, “The humans of our world always found our form pleasing. Does it not please you? Perhaps it will not please him either . . ..”

“No, sorry,” Noct interrupted her. “If Iggy’s expecting it, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“You just surprised us is all, babe,” Gladio said with an encouraging smile, but he was still uneasy at her transformation. How the hell were they gonna stay under the radar with fucking Shiva sitting next to them on the train to Gralea? He already knew she could take care of the energy thing with time, but they were gonna draw a hell of a lotta attention with her looking like that anywhere they went.

“Please, do not be concerned. I shall return to the state with which you are familiar by the time we set off again.” Her eyes seemed to wander around the room for a moment before finally focusing on Gladio. “Apologies. I have not been among mortals for quite some time. Your minds are all so close and flitting. It is . . . distracting.”

“Yeah, and um . . . sorry, but I kinda have that feeling, you know?” Prompto said as he bounced on his toes, grimacing. “Like I wanna kill you again. Sorry.”

“Yes. I will need to realign. Ignis can assist, if he is willing.”

Her brow furrowed again as she looked down at the ground, and Gladio had to wonder—had she forgotten what kinda guy Iggy was after all those years? Or was this about whatever had happened on that altar to make him so unsure about her ever coming back? Gladio hadn’t really put the pieces together until that moment, but damn . . . a twelve-year separation after a huge . . . _something_ had to be eating her alive. Much as he wanted to pull her into a hug, his twitchy hands and galloping heart were telling him he shouldn’t get any closer in case he pulled a Noct and stabbed her.

He decided to settle for encouragement, even if he wasn’t sure how Ig was gonna feel about any of this—including how much he might or might not feel that sense of _wrong_ they were all currently experiencing. “You know he will be.”

“Wait, so you’ve been with your people? I thought they were all, you know . . . dead,” Prompto said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Take it easy there,” Gladio warned. 

But Laura showed no emotional reaction to her extinct race as she replied in an even, careful tone, “I returned home, but not to my people. The air there is filled with very old magic . . . to promote healing. The years were passed with no one but Therinal in my head.”

“Therinal?” Noct asked.

“My tree. He cannot speak aloud. So foreign to use vibration as communication again. Absurd that shapes in the air have meaning.”

Gladio always considered himself the kinda guy to cut through anything—whether it was fancy words or a squad of MTs—but as he exchanged glances with Prompto and Noct yet again, it was pretty obvious there wasn’t much to cut through: she’d lost her fucking mind. Laura had spent the last twelve years alone talking to a tree and had gone insane. Even if she could change back into human form, could they take her with them when they left? She’d be a liability on the field, if her distraction just standing here in the hotel room was anything to go by. And though he knew Iggy would agree, Gladio still wasn’t looking forward to having that conversation.

“So fleeting. Like the hummingbirds to the kithairon, they flit from thought to thought.” Her gaze slowly turned to focus on him. “You are worried,” she said, her voice growing a little stronger as she raised her chin in defiance. “Do not fear. I will be ready for battle when I am needed. It is only a matter of growing accustomed to humans once again.”

“We’ve got two weeks here, then two weeks on the boat before we get on the train to Gralea. You think you can get better by then?” Noct asked.

“Yes,” Laura said firmly. “A week or so, if Ignis is willing to help.”

“Of course I’m—” Gladio heard Iggy’s exasperated exhale as the key scratched against the lock. Gladio spared him the extra three seconds of being separated from his wife by reaching behind him and turning the knob. Iggy burst through the partially-open doorway, covered in sweat and his chest heaving.

“Whatever it is you require assistance with, of _course_ I’m willing.” He stopped just next to Gladio, staring with an intense, unreadable expression.

Gladio, of course, had a thousand questions as he looked back and forth between the two. He’d expected them to go running into each other’s arms like they were running across a field of flowers at each other or some shit. Was Iggy shocked by her appearance? Freaked out? It would be understandable—even the most accepting guy would be a little shocked seeing his girl like this, even if he was somewhat prepared for it. And that look on Laura’s face—Gladio knew that look _well_. Slight frown, furrowed brow, eyes cast down to the floor—it was the same look he always had on his face when he was called into his dad’s study after he’d done something _terrible_ and was waiting for punishment.

“Please,” Iggy pleaded softly, his head tilted at a weird angle.

Nothing seemed to change visually, but Gladio figured it must’ve been a head thing, because they both let out a harsh breath as Iggy lunged forward and threw his arms around her, pressing her head tightly to his chest.

“Ignis,” came her muffled whimper as she gripped at his back, her fingers seeming to dig into his flesh as she squeezed him tighter. “Alluva nin, athaluat.”

“Forgive _you_?” he asked incredulously and pulled back from her. Gladio didn’t know if Ignis’s chosen angle to stand for this long-awaited reunion had been accidental or a deliberate strategic move to ensure the rest of them saw as little as possible, but knowing Iggy and his obsessive need for privacy when it came to Laura—like letting them all know he was actually weak enough to love someone—he probably felt they’d already been ‘inappropriate’ enough.

“Seriously? That’s it?” Prompto complained, his face screwing up in disappointment. “I’d’ve thought after everything, you guys would at least kiss or something.”

Ig turned and, grasping Laura’s hand, strode to the desk in the corner. As he fumbled through the pile of keys to the other rooms on the floor, he said without looking back at them, “If it’s affection you’re desiring, you’ll have to speak to Noct or Gladio. I’m afraid neither of us will perform for your amusement.” Finding the key he was looking for, he said, “Laura and I will be just across the hall should you have need of us.”

“That a good idea?” Noct asked. “We don’t know when Ardyn’s gonna show up again.”

“Already he has returned? His re-embodiment was . . . swifter than I had anticipated,” Laura said. “He will be seeking me out with all his resources for what I did to him, but he cannot approach without my knowing.”

“What _did_ you do to him anyway? That guy was pissed!” Prompto said.

“I poured almost my . . . entire life force into his mind,” she said quietly, her eyes drifting to the floor as she clutched at Iggy’s hand. “I lanced it through his thoughts and memories, so that even if he is . . . disembodied, my abominable energy will follow. It wasn’t a kind fate.”

“Can’t say I’m feeling sorry for him,” Gladio growled through gritted teeth.

That asshole’s actions had cost them all plenty that day, and no matter what Laura did to him, it would never be enough, in Gladio’s opinion. But when Laura didn’t say anything in response, he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny, trying to figure out what that unfamiliar face was trying to say with her silence. Was she really feeling bad she did what she did? He’d thought better of her than that. This was supposed to be war, and she was supposed to know war, was supposed to be old enough and experienced enough not to feel bad about the shit that had to be done when lives were on the line.

Mercy like that could end up costing them all their lives.

As Iggy nodded sharply and began leading Laura to the front door, the three of them backed away to avoid that burning, murderous feeling that was already starting to creep up Gladio’s fingers as she drew nearer. Noct stopped them, though, before Iggy opened the door.

“She gonna be okay, Specs?”

Iggy’s gaze turned inward for a minute, his brows twitching together in what looked like sorrow as he answered, “With time, yes. She was gone far longer than she thought she’d have to be, with no one but Therinal for company. It should merely be a matter of adjusting.”

“All right, just . . . go on,” Gladio said, gesturing to the door. “We’ll handle Claustra and all the other shit. This takes priority.”

“Yeah,” Noct agreed. “Gotta get everybody recovered before we can set out again. Take a week or something. You’re just across the hall, right? We’ll call if we need anything.”

“Thank you, Highness,” Iggy said, opening the door and ushering Laura out into the hall. “We’ll do the same.”

As the door shut behind them, Gladio ran a hand over his face wearily. “What the hell, man.”

What a fucking ride it’d been these past weeks, with no end in sight just yet. He’d been hoping to have them all back together, alive, and ready to kick ass on the day Iggy and Laura reunited. Lucky for them, they still had a few weeks to pull it together, and then maybe Iggy and Laura could get to helping Gladio drag Noct’s reluctant ass into becoming the king they all needed him to be right now.

“Yeah,” Noct agreed. “Who woulda figured when he finally got into a relationship it would be this . . .”

“Weird.”

“Yeah, not gonna judge, but definitely weird,” Prompto said. “But . . . I gotta be the first to say, tentacles not outta the question now.”

 


	60. Chapter 60

“Please,” he had pleaded, not giving a damn about the other three standing feet away, staring with their mouths agape—not giving a damn about _what_ form she had arrived in. Even if she had regenerated into an entirely different person as the Doctor had, he would still not countenance another moment separated from their bond. Tilting his head at the angle they had once used to silently ask for a connection, he fervently hoped it would be enough of a physical signal to meet whatever requirements bonding custom demanded.

The _relief_ that poured over him was nearly overwhelming—her light and love burning down his spine, his fingers, his toes—like stepping into a hot shower after a bitter cold evening spent outdoors to find the water was far warmer than it actually was. Ignis let out a breath in a rush of air only to instantly refill it as he flung himself toward her and poured his own mind into hers like the bottle of wine she’d once described him as.

“Ignis,” she sobbed into his chest, clinging to him as though they could melt into each other physically as completely as they could mentally.

But as he’d been warned by Eilendil, something was wrong with her mind.

Had Eilendil not been there to catch her when she had arrived, she might have been carried off by the swift current of millions of shifting, seething, flitting rapids of emotion threatening to erase her sense of self. The sharp shock after so long spent in silence had sent her reeling.

Twelve years. She had been away for _twelve years_ —more than half the span of his life on this eos so far—alone with Therinal in Lliaméra with that final, terrible day replaying over and over in her mind, allowing time for the doubt of their tenuous forgiveness to fester to the point where she wasn’t certain how he would receive her when she returned. Like him, she had spent their separation blaming herself for everything that had happened that day. Her uneasiness at how he would react to her true form was doing little to help her state of mind.

“Alluva nin, athaluat,” she pleaded.

“Forgive _you_?” he asked in disbelief, unable to hold his incredulity in his mind and needing to ask the question aloud. _I already did so—completely._

Every millisecond of those years had beat heavy on her in serene, peaceful agony—with her severed bond seeming to bleed life and his memory into her mind and the slow, reassuring love that was Therinal keeping her from going completely mad with the anguish of missing him as her body and bond with the TARDIS recovered. Passing such time in solitude with none but the two of them had been as floating in space between time and nature—aware of nothing but the wild, mercurial timelines and the lumbering, steady passage of the sun, wind, and seasons. Her mindscape had grown wild, eternal, meandering, instinctual, and nearly too quick for him to handle.

Tears welled and spilled over the edges of her eyelids and onto the gabardine fabric of his jacket as she gripped him tighter, both mentally and physically, pouring every moment into his mind that she’d missed him so much that it hurt to breathe, desperate to share every fleeting moment they had been apart. It was becoming too much—the relief and disbelief—as the thoughts and emotions roaring through his mind and hers swirled and frothed and coalesced until they became a single whirlpool of sorrow, heartache, absolution, acceptance, and love. But it wasn’t just her—they were both desperate to share with each other the lessons they had learned from their near-fatal mistakes, ready to move on as soon as she had answered his questions.

 _Slow down, love,_ he said gently, fighting the nausea that was threatening at the onslaught. _Remember, we mortals can’t handle that much at once._

Her identity pressing down on him attenuated a little, replaced by remorse at how clumsily she was handling this. _Slow and quick, fleeting and fading, lagging and lingering—the beautiful irony that encompasses your entire lives. I will be more careful._

“Seriously? That’s it? I’d’ve thought after everything, you guys would at least kiss or something.”

She was _alive_. She was all right. They had forgiven each other. And they had performed enough of this display in front of an audience.

***

His heart broke for her as she struggled to focus on placing her next steps into the room, as he knew all too well the sensation of being swept away by the thoughts of another—let alone Prompto’s nervousness, Noct’s grief, Gladio’s fear, and the shifting, prickling colors of the minds on the entire block.

 _What do you need from me?_ he asked as he gently ushered her by the elbow into the room across the hall.

_The bond. Your beautiful heart and mind. The piece of my heart I left with you._

_Your golden thread?_ Though it was now glowing bright and warm in his mind, he hadn’t felt an inkling of her the entire time she’d been dead or gone. He’d believed the bond to be broken the moment it had gone dark.

_Never broken—pinched to a minimum. I am sorry._

The moment he shut the door of the room behind her, Ignis released his tenuous hold on his composure, snaking his arms around her waist and yanking her into his chest.

“Rose,” he choked, burying his face in her hair at her neck, breathing in her pine-kithairon essence he’d believed he’d never smell again, and reveling in the sensation of her hearts beating beneath his lips. He pulled away just long enough to sweep her hair to the side before latching his lips and the edges of his teeth beneath her ear, tasting that sweet scent on the back of his palate as he suckled his way up to her earlobe.

“Stars, Ignis,” she whimpered as she raked her nails up his neck and into his hair, making him shiver, “I have missed you so!”

As he gripped the edge of her ear between his lips, it seemed to flick back roughly at his touch, and he recoiled a bit in surprise.

“What’s this?” he murmured, brushing her hair completely away to reveal the long, tapered point of her ear, which had just returned to its previous, presumably relaxed position. Looking briefly down at his hands, he hurriedly pulled his gloves off and dismissed them to the armiger and was about to feather his fingertips curiously over the edge of the shell when he felt her apprehension, her vulnerability at his assessment.

Quite honestly, he found her stunning, as he always had. Unlike her adolescent form, he still recognized her as his Rose—the rest of this unfamiliar body was merely details he was interested in exploring. Sending her these reassuring thoughts, he cupped her face with both his hands, running his thumbs along her delicate sparkling cheekbones and staring into her bright lapis eyes, which were still wet with her tears.

He kept his voice quiet, deep, and rumbling as he said, “Even so very different than the woman I met, you are still the same. I still love you fiercely. Surely you can sense that.”

“I can,” she said in a low voice, beginning to lower her head to rest at the base of his neck in relief, but there was more he needed to say, so he caught her jaw with a hand and lifted her chin so that her eyes met his again.

“I love you so very much—more than my own life—and words cannot express the depth of my remorse for my actions that day. On more than one occasion, you ensured that I understood your duties before we bonded, and at the first test of my honor, I betrayed your trust. Even with your forgiveness, I vow to do everything in my power to make any reparations I can.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head against his gentle grip. “The fault was mine as well, as I should not have pursued you until I was clear of such a secret. We have each learned from this experience; we have each . . . forgiven the other completely. Now we move forward.”

Sighing, he raised his eyes to the ceiling before letting them fall closed. He didn’t deserve this, even if she’d felt precisely the same as he and even if she were entirely correct. Keeping their lessons in mind as they moved forward without letting the past affect their rapport—a clean slate, as it were—would only make them stronger, nigh unstoppable together. But there was one last obstacle standing in their way before they could both begin that healing.

Staring down into her sapphire eyes intently, he said softly, “Yes, you’re right. But I should like to ask my questions first, so that we may truly move on.”

He could feel the trepidation building in her mind, but he sent her a wave of reassurance. He needed to know, perhaps selfishly, the extent of her foreknowledge—and after having become the bearer of the very same and finding himself adopting identical practices, he could never again condemn her for such while remaining true to himself. Still, this would hardly be a pleasant conversation.

“All right,” she agreed, but before he could usher her to sit on the bed before he pulled up the desk chair, she held a hand up to his neck to stop him. “I need to . . . take care of this first.”

 _I was wondering how long it would take you two to remember I was here,_ Eilendil said grumpily.

Brushing her fingers against the pendant, Laura’s eyes unfocused for a moment before widening. _The two of you established a deeper connection while I was away?_ she asked in surprise.

_Needy, fragile humans—he was diminished without you, as, it seems, you are without him._

_And you?_ she asked, stroking the pendant and the skin around Ignis’s neck, and he stepped a little closer so that he could wrap his arms around her back. A desperate, dark hole seemed to have opened up in her mind at her question, one Ignis was well-familiar with—loneliness. She’d spent these last years reaching out against the searing chill of both their severed threads, and even with Therinal’s and the TARDIS’s company, it wasn’t quite the same.

_I am well, Laurelín. As you tell the child, stop your fussing. We are together again. Ignis Scientia—it was . . . enlightening to touch a mortal mind. I am certain we shall meet again soon._

Before Ignis felt the dragon’s weight lift completely off his mind, he said, _The honor was mine. Thank you for your assistance and advice._

Eilendil had lifted completely free of him by the time Laura brushed her fingers against his heart, releasing the clasp with a clinking sound as the metal links coiled into her palm.

“That was far easier for you than it was for me,” Ignis muttered with a frown.

He recoiled a little at the shriek that emitted from her hands as she summoned what appeared to be a diamond and pressed it into a slot at the root of the tree on the pendant. “The chain is isomorphic—it knows my mental touch. Anyone else would need a password. Even beheading me would not allow one to remove it unless Eilendil was willing,” she said dreamily.

“Are you not aligned?” he asked in alarm, attempting to pull back from her in case he was causing her pain, but she stilled him with a hand over his elbow.

“No, but you are absolutely mad if you believe that I will be parted from you for a moment,” she said, her voice growing firm as she glared up at him. “I require your touch to realign regardless, so still your reticence and allow me to enjoy it.”

As much as he despised the fact that his own body was not compatible with hers in times such as these, he had to admit that she had a point—she would need to align anyway, and what better way to do so than through love? But before Ignis could react to her statement, she reached up to place the chain around her neck. _Rest now, dearest—and thank you._

Ignis stilled her hands with his own, carefully taking the ends of the chain from her fingers as she looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Please, allow me,” he murmured as he touched the two ends of the chain behind her neck and felt for the seal. Perhaps somewhat unnecessarily, he ran his fingertips down the line of the chain to the front before fanning them out over her delicate collarbones as his lips parted to breathe in the wild scent of fresh air and time between them.

“Say it. Please?” he asked, his chest nearly aching with the desire to hear her say it out loud—just once.

The tender look in her eyes just about broke him as they searched his. “Rose Marion Laurelín Tildari Haránathat Ni’annen Tyler . . . Scientia,” she said softly, and Astrals help him, he couldn’t control himself. That overwhelming sense of joy and possession flooded him, flowing over their connection into her until she echoed it back, filling him to the brim with that warmth and affection that was so _Rose_ he wondered if he’d managed to tame her mind already.

He darted forward to capture her lips with his, tasting her for the first time since that fateful day in Tigiano Square—sweet and tea and floral and so very much like he remembered. Astrals, she was so incredibly warm, her lips so soft, he felt as though he were drinking in her body heat as he lapped at her tongue and slid his lips wetly against hers. But that damned scar on his lower lip dragged roughly against her mouth, and he winced inwardly, cursing that even kissing her was now marred with the bitter taste of remembrance.

Laura’s thoughts turned somber and empathetic as she sucked his lower lip between hers to lave her tongue over the split in the healed-over skin and brought her thumb up to brush over his scarred and still sweaty brow.

 _You are beautiful, and always will be, with the story of your life writ in your skin. But with me, the words are of your choosing._ Before the fear of incapacitating her could rear up in his mind, that image of her waxen face leaning against his shoulder as they left Keycatrich, she said, _Fear not,_ _I will not be creating any reservoirs. Remember, I once made the same offer to Gladio. This is no great sacrifice, love. It is my honor._

Ignis stepped back from her, pulling the chair from the desk and setting it in front of the bed in an attempt to give himself space to grapple with the conflict in his mind. If he were truly honest with himself, there _was_ the smallest part of his vanity in addition to his shame that demanded that he appear as well put-together as possible, though that was perhaps also partially due to his duty as a representative of the Crown. Unlike Gladio, he had no desire to advertise what he had done, but to ask this of her . . .. Then again, this would be as much for her as it was for him, wouldn’t it?

“Ignis?”

“Perhaps . . . once you’ve aligned, so as not to cause you undue pain,” he managed to say, gripping the back of the chair tightly in one hand and closing his eyes. “And only if Eilendil’s estimate of a night’s sleep would be all you require to recover?”

He heard the soft thud of her footsteps across the carpet and felt her gentle caress across his shoulder blades. “He was correct. Less than a night.”

“Very well—after you’ve aligned then. I . . . honestly, ‘thank you’ doesn’t seem to be adequate,” he said before taking a breath and turning to her.

“May I take your cloak before we sit?”

To his surprise, she shook her head and took a step back.

“I am not . . . appropriately dressed under this. It would make this conversation far more . . . awkward.”

Ignis let his eyes travel down the length of her cloak, attempting to discern anything of her clothing from the small dark gap between the two edges. He’d held her body to his more than once already today, but he’d only done so with gloved hands, and he had to admit he’d had other things on his mind than to see what outfit she had on underneath.

She looked away, pursing her lips with a grimace and parted her cloak just enough to let the light in and reveal . . . her nearly naked body, her modesty barely contained by the gleaming mythril chain and leaf-work from her neck, over her nipples, around her belly button, and barely covering her sex.

“Wha—” he began on a sharp exhale, unable to complete a thought as she closed the cloak over herself again and moved to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“The things I endure for you,” she said, frowning in an attempt to cover up her smile, but her eyes were still sparkling with amusement as she stared down at the floor. “I was not certain how far I would have to go . . . to appear as Shiva in Insomnia.”

Ignis attempted to shove aside the image of the expanse of her skin, undamaged, unmarked, and the delicate hue of the very tips of a newly-opened sylleblossom. He’d always found her body sensuously alluring, but the idea of exploring this one, of mapping out the differences in appearance and sensation, of spending hours purging the last view he’d had of her naked form from his memory, was a most tantalizing prospect indeed. He sat rigid on the edge of the chair in front of her, taking both her hands between his to keep himself from parting her cloak and grazing his fingertips over her ribs.

“We cannot do that today,” she said quietly, and while he did his best to stifle his disappointment at her words, he could feel her swell of tenderness at his desire for her body.

“Just so I understand, may I inquire as to why not?”

“This body is . . . different,” she said, and though she was doing her best not to allow the tide of surrounding minds set her adrift in that very moment, an edge of wickedness leaked into her voice at her words. “You will need to be very well-rested, and . . .” she removed one of her hands from his, leaning forward to place it against his jaw, “you have not been taking care of yourself.”

He leaned into the warmth of her palm, squeezing her other hand between both his. “Unfortunately, that would be one skill I’ve never truly excelled at.”

She pulled his face forward, leaning in to press her lips briefly against his forehead. “I am here to help. But please . . . ask your questions. I cannot bear this suspense much longer.”

He cut to the chase, choosing to get the most painful question behind him as he stared down at her lap. “It’s one of your fixed points, isn’t it? I can’t do anything to change it, can I?”

He was glad he hadn’t made eye contact for this question, as the pity in her tone was far too much as it was. “It is fixed, yes. However . . .” and it was here that Ignis’s eyes shot up to hers, “in _extreme_ , and I do mean extreme cases, certain events can be changed as long as the fixed point remains the same.”

“How?”

“If we can find a way to ensure Noctis’s survival while remaining true to what we saw in the vision and the . . . prophecy itself, it can be done.”

Ignis’s hands tightened around hers as his mind began to race at the implications of her words. They could _save_ him? But how could they find a way to ensure that Noct survived a sword to the chest, the Royal Arms bursting from his back? He would need to do research, perhaps visit the Royal Tombs—even return to the library in Insomnia. Was it possible that this was what His Majesty meant when he asked him to take care of Noct all those years ago?

“Calm down, love,” she said, her eyes focusing directly on his, full of clarity and gravity. “First of all, I do not believe Regis knew of his and Noct’s fate when he extracted that promise from you, and though I know you take it very seriously, you should hardly judge the measure of your existence by it.

“Secondly, I will help you, but please, please realize: to say that this is a rare phenomenon is an understatement. I only know of it theoretically.”

Ignis took a slow breath, cleansing himself of his agitation to get started right away. They had time, and she would help him; even if the chance was slim, it was more than he could’ve hoped to ask for. Perhaps, when the day drew nearer to Noct appearing as he did in Pryna’s vision, Ignis could be the one to personally deliver the good news that his brother was free to live his life as he pleased.

“The vision—had you seen it before? Did you know of the Chancellor’s identity beforehand?”

“No,” she said with an edge of vehemence in her voice, and he could feel the hurt echo across their bond. “I told you in Lestallum I did not know his identity . . . and I discovered it alongside you all.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, giving her hands an encouraging squeeze and sending her a wave of remorse to back his words. “I had forgotten you said that. I do know you’ve always done your best to be truthful. But, forgive me, how did you learn of Noct’s future then?”

“I knew the King of Light would dispel the darkness and bring back the dawn. There was no mention of a virus, and only an offhanded mention of the Oracle from an advisor. Regis told me what he would have to do someday, but little else.”

Imagining what the King must have had to endure, knowing, likely since Noct had been chosen, that he would one day have to die in order to become a Lucii to kill his own son, Ignis couldn’t envision himself capable of the strength to do such a thing. And the more he thought about the timeline of events, the more he realized that Rose had been right—His Majesty had _not_ been aware of their future trials when he’d asked Ignis to take care of his son. In Ignis’s mind, this didn’t release him from his word in any sense; however, the sense of betrayal that had blackened Ignis’s memory of the King since that day on the altar eased somewhat at the realization.

“Did you also possess foreknowledge of Lady Lunafreya’s death?”

“Not until the moment I determined it was safe for you to see Pryna’s vision. I knew there were fixed points scattered throughout that day, but not their specific natures.”

Ignis dropped his head, nodding at his lap in relief. How wrong could he have possibly been in that initial reaction, when he’d thought she had manipulated Noct into falling for a dead woman? Here is this quiet, calm moment, the very notion of it seemed so unnecessarily cruel, so unlike Rose, that it was a wonder even his fevered mind had come to such an appalling conclusion.

As though to drive the point deeper, she asked in a subdued, quiet tone, “How is he handling everything?”

Ignis hesitated before replying, “As well as can be expected, given all that’s happened. I’m certain you feel his melancholy, but so long as we keep setting tasks in front of him, he manages to hold it at bay. I can only hope Prompto and Gladio are up to the challenge.”

“We need not lock ourselves away the _entire_ week, you know,” she said amusedly. “It may be beneficial for me to be among people, perhaps even separate once or twice. You need not forsake your duty for my recovery.”

Of course they would eventually leave this sanctuary and join the fray once more, but at the moment, the very idea of them separating was unthinkable. He abruptly leaned forward, meeting her surprised lips aggressively, and continued with the motion until he had laid her back on the bed, having crawled onto her lap to hover over her as he pressed her head back into the mattress with his assault on her mouth.

 _Oh gods, Rose, I’ve missed you so much!_ As much as he tried to hold them back, tears leaked from underneath his eyelids and onto her cheeks, and he felt her soft hands settle on either side of his neck in comfort. _I was so sure I would never see you again, so certain you were gone forever. I was alone—again. I found I couldn’t go back to that._

 _Ignis,_ she groaned as their mouths moved over one another. _I missed you, too. In every moment, your scent, your touch, your voice haunted me. I’m so sorry, love—so very sorry for everything that happened that day._

 _Twelve years,_ he choked as he moved his hands to stroke the sides of her face. _How can you have been gone for twelve years?_

_I will be all right. Better that it was twelve years for me and not for you._

The horror of that idea broke over him at her words—twelve years of his limited life passed without her, with that terrible and terrifying emptiness in his head—knowing that they were prime years of his life he could never get back with her. As though it were possible she could disappear from him at any moment, he moved his hands to grip her shoulders with a moan into her mouth, desperate to keep her there with him.

 _Shh,_ she said soothingly, running her fingertips back and forth along his jaw. _We are together. I am not going anywhere._

The metal choker of her costume scraped against his lips as he moved to nip at her throat, and he shuddered at the sensation of her nails scraping around his neck and up over his scalp. But as he breathed in that intoxicating scent at her throat, he was becoming increasingly aware of an almost unnatural desperation to have her, to claim her, to _breed_ with her. Something primal in his brain was beginning to scream at him to have her _now_ —to come into her over and over again until her womb was swollen with his seed—and he couldn’t help but whimper as he rutted against her thighs.

“No,” Rose gasped through the similar fog that was beginning to cloud her own thoughts, and the denial was just enough to make him sit up abruptly, clambering off her lap and back into his chair.

“What was that?” he asked, attempting to shake the haze from his head and settle his thrumming body with a few more slow, deep breaths.

“Pheromones,” she breathed, still lying back and gasping up at the ceiling. “Yours set mine off, and . . . humans tend to react . . . dramatically to them. Had we not stopped, we would have been . . . mad with insatiety all night.”

“Are you all right?” he asked earnestly, noting that her chest was still rising and falling too rapidly and her pupils even more dilated than what had been caused by the overwhelming telepathic input from the city.

“Oh gods, I _want_ you,” she let out on an exhale before sitting up and taking his hands between hers with a sigh. “And I will have you—as soon as those rings have cleared from beneath your eyes. You look so tired, love.”

Though he himself wanted nothing more in that moment than to free them both from the confines of their clothes and bury himself in her until they’d both replaced every moment of heartache over the past weeks and years with love and pleasure, he at least felt as though he’d gained some measure of control over himself, but only just. If he were being honest with himself, he _was_ exhausted, as even Eilendil’s assistance the night before had been interrupted by Rose’s arrival in this universe. Now that he was allowing himself to focus on his own body, he could feel the heaviness in his limbs, the bleariness of his eyes.

“You have not taken the time to recover from that day, have you?” she asked gently, a hand settling on his cheek. But he didn’t have to answer for her know, for her to feel his guilt and enervation—probably even to detect the scent of Ebony that seemed to ooze from his pores.

“All right,” she said firmly as she stood, grabbing his hand and leading him to the en suite. “I want you to get in there and take a steaming hot shower. I . . . do not care if the sun has not yet fully set—you are to dress in your pajamas and join me in bed.” At the end of her speech, she gave him a little shove, pushing him over the threshold of the door.

“I was under the impression this was to be _your_ convalescence,” he mumbled obstinately.

“Not when you refuse to take care of yourself. Now, go. I would wash you myself, only that would lead to something we could not finish.”

Noting that her exasperation with him seemed to bring his wife out, the Rose he knew, he idly wondered how he could use that information to his advantage as he quickly washed the sweat from his body and shampooed his hair—keeping his mind wrapped tightly around her wandering one, anchoring her to this world. If he closed his eyes and concentrated on her, he could feel them all—hundreds of minds prickling at his, changing colors, shifting with emotion, demanding her attention. It was a wonder she had ever in her life learned to ignore the sensory input, as even the secondhand sensation threatened to pull Ignis right out of the shower and into the tide of feeling.

She was sitting up on the bed when he opened the bathroom door, a breakfast tray with a steaming bowl of what looked like soup sitting astride her lap. He had to smile a little to himself when he saw that she’d changed into her sleep shorts and t-shirt, as the juxtaposition of the ensemble on the body of a goddess was more than a little jarring. Even underdressed and distracted as she was, her gaze faraway as she stared into the depths of the soup bowl, that stark contrast between the blue-black of her hair and her ivory skin illuminated like blue starlight threatened to steal his breath away.

Every moment of suffering from that day had been wiped clean from her skin, and it was only a matter of time before the same could be said of her mind.

“Rose?” he queried gently, tugging at their bond to bring her back to the here and now.

“I am . . . I’m all right. Come. Sit,” she said, patting the duvet next to her with a smile.

The moment he had settled under the covers, sitting up with his legs stretched in front of him, she dipped a spoon into the enormous bowl, tapped it on the side so that it wouldn’t drip, and held it in front of his mouth.

“You’re mad, woman, if you believe I’m going to let you feed me that entire bowl as though I were a child,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Well, you clearly have issues feeding yourself without me, so perhaps you _need_ to be treated as a child. You’ve lost weight, Ignis.”

“I have not!” he cried indignantly, though he knew he wasn’t being truthful; he’d had to tighten his belt a notch just this morning to keep his trousers from falling too low on his hips.

She sensed the duality of the statement in his mind and narrowed her eyes at him. “Compromise? I will allow you to nourish yourself if you take this one spoonful from me.”

Glaring at her, wondering idly how they had managed to find themselves in such a ridiculous situation so soon after so many overwhelming emotions, he decided to acquiesce.

“Very well, then,” he said with a huff in defiance of her amused smile, but he was, perhaps not-so-secretly, pleased to see that life in her eyes.

As he opened his mouth, she began moving the spoon in swirling motions in front of his face. “Here comes the drop ship!” she sang patronizingly, her smile growing into an open-mouthed grin, and it was only then that he noticed the two sharper points of her teeth at the corners of her mouth.

Perhaps tomorrow, she would let him lay her back on this bed and explore that body of hers.

“I’m going to drop _you_ in a moment,” he mumbled, attempting to cover up his smile before reaching out to take the spoon between his lips.

“Oh! The MTs have dropped, and Ignis wipes them all out in a single bite!” she cheered, removing the spoon from his mouth and placing it back in the bowl.

Ignis, for his part, had just enough time to register a light tomato-based broth, potatoes, carrots, peas, and a few spices he didn’t recognize before he snorted at her words, nearly choking on the mouthful as he attempted to swallow it without spluttering it everywhere.

“W-w-what?” he said, leaning forward and covering his mouth to half cough, half laugh into his hand. “You are _absurd_.”

“Well, I’m not certain that it counts as eating your spoonful, as half of it seems to have . . . gone up your nose, but here.”

She angled the tray between the two of them and picked up the other spoon. Together, they shared the bowl, playfully fighting over territory when their spoons met or quietly discussing the myriad of vegetables and spices she had used and their origins. Gods, how he’d missed her. She made living so easy, made laughing such a simple matter. In those moments, the pains of the past and the worries of the future were washed away because whatever came for them, they were going to figure it out and defeat it together.

Laura reluctantly allowed him to leave the bed to hurriedly wash the bowl and spoons, but he returned to her side quickly, lying down next to her under the covers, pulling her close, and resting his chin on top of her head. Her body felt so small underneath his hands, and as her back melted into his chest and that feeling of _safe_ pervaded their connection, he allowed himself to truly feel the exhaustion that had weighed him down these past weeks and let out a deep, unrestrained yawn. Then, breathing in a lungful of her sweet scent, he let out the breath on a contented sigh as he felt her body expand with the same action.  

He was _home._

“Take me somewhere,” he whispered into her hair. “Take me away—anywhere, I don’t care.”

“Come with me,” she whispered back as he felt his eyes grow heavy.

Ignis nearly wept when he appeared on the bridge standing in front of his wife in her human body, but he managed to contain the burn in his eyes as he pulled her into his arms and stepped on the line where burgundy met gold.

A blur of color whirled over his sight, and he found himself standing in what he suspected was some part of Lliaméra, though he had never been to this particular area before. The same unspeakably enormous trees towered over him; the scent of pine and kithairon, nearly identical to Rose’s scent, mixed with the fresh air and wafted on the breeze. The same calming mottled green light filtered in from the lofty canopy, and the air was almost roaring with the susurrus of tree needles brushing against one another as they moved. But even with the constant undercurrent of sound, there was still something hushed about the place, something that compelled Ignis to want to bow his head in reverence, as though he were standing in a sacred cathedral.

“I always found solace here in this place,” he heard Laura’s voice say quietly, and he turned to see her standing at the base of one of the Arkhein trees nearby in a loose-fitting dark green dress that brushed against her long, bare toes.

“It’s beautiful,” he said dumbly as he stared up at the canopy. It seemed that no matter how many times she brought him to her home planet, he would never cease to be astounded by the sheer beauty of the ancient forest. “I love it here.”

The slow smile that spread over her lips was warm and bright as she angled her body toward the tree she was standing underneath. She reached a hand out above her head and ran it gently over the sienna-colored bark, her fingers dipping in and out of the deep, natural fissures of the tree.

“This is Therinal,” she said softly, catching her hand along an invisible seam that cracked open to reveal a door.

“This is where you’ve been?”

“Yes,” she said, reaching out for his hands, and her expression grew euphoric and alive as she pulled him toward the door. “Come home with me.”

“Yes, anywhere,” he said, stepping over the threshold into the hollowed-out tree trunk large enough to fit almost three of the Regalia end-to-end. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

With a chuckle and frisson of excitement that set his own heart to racing, she led him up a seemingly endless spiral staircase—whose worn-smooth steps grew directly from the walls of the trunk and were transformed into an ethereal column of stars by the infinite tiny shafts of light that shot through the wood from intricate patterns of holes. These carvings on their own didn’t provide enough light to see, however, and he was grateful for the string of silver glowing lanterns wrapped up the center of the spiral as he squinted in the dark to find the next step.

“No electricity?” he asked when he noticed the lanterns were lit by her own magical silver fire.

“No, our civilization, for all its power, was not as advanced technologically as yours. We lived simply, probably much like your Solheimians just after Ifrit gave them fire.”

Despite these past months of near constant exercise in extreme conditions, even he was breathing heavily by the time they reached the open arch at the top of the stairs, and, on hearing his labored breath, she turned to him, humor in her expression.

“Believe me; I received plenty of criticism for my design choice. Most of my people, as you saw in the city, sing their dwellings from the ground floor. I was told this was unwelcoming. Perhaps it was a deliberate choice.” She pulled him through the arch, and the moment he stepped through, he had to drop her hand and gaze in wonder.

It was as though someone had taken his own mindscape and made it tangible. Wooden bookshelves adorned with intricate carvings of vines and animals lined the walls, overflowing with books, tomes, and scrolls of countless languages. The shelves rose all the way to the high ceiling above, which was painted to look like the night sky awash with stars. The floor was a deep, burnished red wood, and he saw that she had sung swirls of dark blue and gold into the pattern. At the end of the room, a floor-to-ceiling opening led to a balcony outside, its light spilling in to reflect off the ceiling and wood, making the entire room glow with rich color.

His eyes drifted to the smaller spiral staircase in the center of the room, leading still further up the tree.

“It’s more utilitarian up there: a living room and kitchen floor, a bedroom and bathroom floor, and a floor for Eilendil. But this is my personal space.”

Indeed, he could see her essence expressed in this room; everything about it was designed for quiet reflection and enjoyment of beauty, but with a window into countless adventures by way of every book that lined the shelves surrounding them.

He stepped past the heavy carved desk and chair and ran his hands along the velvety fabric of the squashy, cinnamon colored couch, imagining the reflective, tranquil afternoons he and Rose could’ve spent here in front of the fire, which was crackling merrily beneath a carved stone and wooden mantle, perhaps even stretched out naked on that luxuriously fluffy, white rug.

“Rose, this place is breathtaking,” he said in a near whisper.

“There is still more to show you. Come outside.”

He was overwhelmed yet again as she led him by the hand outside to the edge of the living wooden balcony, but her hand slipped from his as she sat down on the edge, her feet dangling off the side.

He stood frozen next to her, his eyes wide with wonder as he took in the sight. No matter how many incredible vistas she had shown them since they’d bonded, there was just something about this particular planet that seemed to speak to his soul.

_My gods, the view._

The waters of the immense lake were crystal clear, showcasing the multi-colored stones that lined the bottom and glittered like jewels in the weak spring sun. Far beyond, ancient crags of snowcapped mountains rose high to the cerulean sky, cradling the lake in a circle of protection. On its shores, just before the Arkhein trees took over the forest, stood thousands upon thousands of kithairon trees, but these were nothing like the little seedling he’d seen Laura sing in Lucis. These were old and enormous, so fully laden with ruffled pink, red, and white blossoms that he couldn’t discern a single green leaf from the masses.

He sat down hard next to her, letting his feet knock against hers as he continued to take it all in—to convince himself that what he was seeing was a real world somewhere and not paradise itself. He recalled that night in Leide, when she’d described this wondrous place, and he’d thought that even her description had sounded befitting for someone of her station, of divinity. Of course, he never would have dreamed to find himself sitting here right beside her.

“ _Oh_ , my word, Rose. I know you must grow tired of me saying the same things over and over every time you bring me to a new place, but the sheer beauty, the tranquility—this is simply stunning.”

A breeze swept through the trees in that moment, releasing countless clouds and swirls of tiny petals into the air to fall to the ground like fragrant raindrops or brush across their laps and hair before dancing off to settle in drifts at the balcony’s corners.

“I shall never tire of showing you the wonders of the universe, love. The look on your face, the wonder in your heart—you know by now how that makes me feel.”

He ran his hands along the wood of the balcony beneath him. “But this isn’t the wonders of the universe. This is _you_ , is it not? This space came from your heart, your mind, and your life force. Didn’t you say you sang this yourself?”

“I did.”

He took a deep breath of the fresh petal-laden air and blew it out. “I could see myself here with you—every day, for the rest of time.”

When she looked up at him, her eyes were wide and shimmering as she said, “We can come here every night, if you wish—make this our home. But you _were_ here with me. For twelve years, I recovered and thought of nothing else. I missed you so much it felt as though I were breaking apart, but knowing that I would see you again made it bearable.”

“Rose,” he said in wonder, pulling her head into his shoulder and kissing her temple.

Yes, he was finally, blessedly _home_.


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW this chapter.

It mattered not one whit that Ignis was only setting his bow to the instrument to play a simple scale. There was something about the way he closed his eyes in concentration, the way the corners of his brow twitched down, the way his lips pulled ever so slightly down at the corners—and that was only his expression. The way his long, pale fingers contorted on the neck and delicately held the bow combined with the flex of his forearms sent a quiver of desire through Laura as he swayed and seemingly danced with the violin in the sun-drenched little shop she’d created for him, packed full of the best violins she’d come across over the millennia. He seemed to fit seamlessly among the instruments and the scent of varnish and varying ages of wood, to belong here in this place with its creaking wooden floor and the shafts of light from the shop window that turned his honey brown hair golden.    

“Plucking at your heartstrings again, am I?” he asked without pausing, that unique amalgam of affection and embarrassment brewing in his thoughts. He opened his eyes to look at her, his gaze vibrant green with excitement and delight. “As much as I was attracted to the aesthetics of the [Bridge](http://www.fuseofficial.com/images/violins_large/fuse-million-dollar-crystal-violinist-studio54.jpg) violin, I find I prefer the sound of this one and the way it fits my hands. I believe this is the one.”

Of course, of all the planets and universes and time periods he had to choose from, Ignis Scientia _would_ prefer a Stradivarius. No matter in which universe Laura would encounter the luthier, Antonio Stradivari was _always_ practicing his craft—seemingly possessed by the notion that the souls of the wood were speaking to him, imploring him to shape them so that they could be gifted with a voice to sing songs for themselves. Laura had always been charmed by the flattering Italian man each time she’d encountered him, and though she herself was a hopeless instrumentalist, he’d gifted her with twelve Strads in their various encounters.

If only he would stop pissing off the Vashta Nerada, he wouldn’t need her assistance so often.

“Yeah? I have a similar one in my Pocket if you ever wanted to play in the real world, but not that one.”

Ignis dismissed the bow and brought the body of the violin closer to his face, scrutinizing the softly glowing wood as his fingers traced the edges worn smooth by hundreds of years of use.

“The craftsmanship, the sound it produces—unlike even the best luthiers of Accordo.” He paused, his eyes darting up to hers. “Dare I ask how much this instrument is worth?”

Laura smiled warmly at his naïveté. For all his travels with her, he still didn’t seem to understand that things like monetary value were meaningless concepts in a reality of multiple times and universes. That sort of thinking was to be expected, however, when he was the only one of the group ensuring that they didn’t spend all their funds on eating out, souvenirs, and decals for the Regalia.  

“It depends on the time period. That particular violin, when I encountered it, was being auctioned off for the equivalent of 275 million gil.”

His eyebrows shot up as he looked back down at the violin. “Really,” he remarked nonchalantly. “It seems . . . wrong of me to use such an extraordinary instrument for everyday practice, particularly at my level of skill.”

“It’s not real, love,” she reminded him, rolling her eyes a little. “Besides, do you really believe the other violin covered in crystals is cheap? Even that one is 25 million gil, or thereabouts.”

“I have expensive tastes in any universe, it seems,” he said with a sigh, placing the violin carefully back in its case.

“It’ll be waiting for you whenever you like at Therinal. Or, hell, if you wanted to play it onstage in the most opulent concert hall of the Allison Galaxy, we could arrange that, too.”

A stain of pink blossomed on his cheeks as he lowered his eyes and replied, “I should prefer to do my composing at Therinal, if you don’t mind. And . . ..”

Laura waited for him to finish, but he sighed after a moment and shook his head. She studied his downcast gaze, the way the slightest blush lingered on his cheeks, that wall of hesitancy and reluctance in his mind . . . he wanted something and was too concerned about being a burden to ask for it. Hadn’t he gotten past that ages ago, especially here in this world of dreams?

“No, don’t do that. What is it you want?”

“It’s just that . . . the piece I was last working on, years ago now, also required a piano, but it’s not important.”

She beamed at him, poking her tongue out to touch her teeth in mischief. “Of course it’s important,” she said, pulling him down to her mouth by his suspenders. He closed his eyes and reached out to hold her as their lips met, and she took advantage of his distraction by transforming the shop around them—replacing the violins with three hundred and twenty-seven of the best pianos she’d sat down at, much to any audience’s disappointment.

“I didn’t know you also played the piano,” she said when she pulled away, but he kept his arms wrapped around her back, enveloping her in his warm, spicy scent as his gaze traveled over their surroundings.

“It was more of a private hobby in my very spare moments. I never had the time to truly develop the skill. My music tutor was a very kind woman who allowed me to explore my choice of instruments, and I discovered that violin and piano spoke most to my tastes.”

“Then choose one.”

“It’s one thing to bring a violin into your home. It’s quite another matter to ask you to make space for a piano.”

“I’m thinking we move the couch to face the fireplace, get rid of the chairs, and put the piano there so I can watch you play,” she said, ignoring him. “And do try to remember: it’s _your_ home as well.”

She hadn’t expected him to love Therinal, to love Lliaméra so much, else she would have taken him there first thing after their bonding. This concept of home—a space to find respite and solitude without loneliness, where he could keep everything he loved within arm’s reach—was one she should have realized he’d been missing all these years. But now that they’d decided they would spend at least a little while every night there, she was most eager to see him truly claim the space for his own.

Stars, the light in his eyes and the joy in his heart at her words—he was just so easy to please, and after her intense relief that she hadn’t completely ruined his life, at finding him still loving her, still wanting her, she was more determined than ever to see him smile every day.

Ignis lowered his head and feathered his lips across her cheek, blowing out a warm breath of a sigh across her ear and making her shiver. “Thank you,” he rumbled in that deep, velvet voice of his. “I assure you, the feeling is entirely mutual.”

“Ignis—”

“Today, please,” he breathed, pulling her hips against him in case there was the slightest possibility that she didn’t know what he was referring to.

She did—the demanding lech, but she’d be a hypocrite of the highest order if she didn’t admit that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind every time she’d looked at him since that first evening she’d arrived.

“I’m sufficiently recovered, and you . . . your mind rarely wanders anymore. Even your speech is returning to normal.”

The past five days they’d spent locked away in their room, far longer than she’d suspected they would need, had been more for Ignis’s recovery than hers. She could recuperate in any setting so long as she had his calm mind and their bond to hold her to the ground, but his sallow skin and bloodshot eyes were evidence enough that he hadn’t taken a moment to recover from the battle—that he’d been throwing himself into his obligations without regard to his own health for weeks now after exerting himself so thoroughly with his gratuitous use of elemental power. Since the evening she’d returned, he’d cast aside his heavy cloak of weariness and silent suffering to replace it with hours upon hours of telepathically-induced sleep, proper nutrition from the stores in her Pocket, and peace of mind from the occasional trip across the hall to ensure that Noct was all right and that they hadn’t yet set their room on fire.

As for her, she had paid for her crime with twelve years of silence. So long as she didn’t take further action, she could spare herself a complete regression to those cold and ruthless days near the end of the war, but she would act if she had to—if Ignis was singled out and threatened like that again.

No amount of time alone with him could make up for those years she’d spent with every thought wrapped around the abyss in her head. The loss of his glowing warmth had been even worse than when James had died, as the death of a mate provided some sense of finality to the severance. But they were both eager upon their reunion to heal each other’s respective wounds—combining duty and leisure as they’d gone on adventure after adventure together: flight school, driving school, the spice market of Viricak XIX, The Museum of Intergalactic Art on Feldspoon, a lecture (and argument) with Stephen Hawking on cosmology, a class on elemancy with Rindirak Xaxian Spiroactie Junior. It was only after they’d visited the Hallelujah Mountains on Pandora and returned to Therinal that he’d expressed interest in taking up composing again.

Of course, that wasn’t all he’d expressed an interest in—had been expressing an interest in since that first night—and she wasn’t terribly surprised by his insistence.

Sex was complex matter for Lliamérians, as everything with immortals tended to be. Biologically programmed to experience desire exclusively when bonded and only very, very infrequently, Laura had never endured a long stretch of time in her true form without her living bond partner by her side, and she’d been unprepared for just how quickly the scent of Ignis’s musky arousal had seeped into her pores, setting her blood afire and flooding her system with a potent cocktail of pheromones designed to drive one specific man into a desperate frenzy—her bondmate. It didn’t help that the effect was particularly powerful on human physiology. That he’d managed to abstain this long after that incident was either a testament to his astounding self-control or his body’s desperate need for rest, she wasn’t sure which, but she’d had quite enough waiting as well.

“It’s still dark out. Pick a piano, and then we’ll wake up?” she suggested.

He pushed at her hips and stepped forward, walking her back until her lower back was pressed up between the body of an ebony Spherian baby grand and Ignis’s hips.

“This one,” he said with a hum into her hair.

“All right, I suppose we could do this later, when you’re more . . . focused,” she said amusedly.

“An excellent strategy,” he said, stroking her ribs and nuzzling at her neck. “We may make a tactician out of you yet.”

“Hush, you,” she sighed, tipping her head back into his attentions, but after several moments of basking in the caress of lips on her skin, she regretfully brought them both back to consciousness.

Laura found herself half-propped up on the pillows when she awoke, the upper half of Ignis’s body draped across hers as his head rested heavily on her shoulder.

“Good morning,” he rumbled in a soft, hoarse voice, squeezing her to him as he wrapped his lips around the edge of her shoulder. He must have still had his eyes closed, else he would have made a comment on the markings stippling her skin that he was currently nibbling on.

Laura ran the hand that was resting on his neck to brush away the soft bangs from his eyes before reaching up to stroke from his ear to the top of his head and back again, breathing in the clean scent of his shampoo and letting her forearm rub lightly against his rough stubble.

“Good morning . . . sort of.”

He turned his head into her neck so that she was trailing her fingers over the other side of his face as he pressed his lips to the hollow of her collarbone.

“As much as I loathe the idea of leaving this bed,” he murmured between quick, sweet kisses to her neck, “I should like to at least brush my teeth before I explore you.”

“Would you mind if I joined you?” she asked, reaching over to turn on the lamp. While she technically didn’t have to clean her teeth as often as humans, it had always been a practice she’d adhered to, and she needed to collect the extra towels in the bathroom for the bed, anyway.

Hearing her train of thought, Ignis pulled back and raised his eyebrows, but his resulting question was immediately derailed by the luminescence she knew was glowing in her cheeks despite the dim light of the lamp.

“They’re so much brighter in the dark. Bioluminescence? Have you been keeping this from me?” he asked, propping himself up on an elbow and sliding the very tips of his first two fingers over the apple of her cheek.

“Not intentionally, no. You’ve been unconscious every evening since I arrived. There are others you’ll see when we get back in bed.”

“Mmm,” he hummed introspectively before placing a brief peck on her cheek and pulling away. _Seems as though you aren’t the only one with the privilege of touching the stars,_ he said, thinking of their first night together as she had kissed his freckles on the couch.

He maintained a careful distance as they brushed their teeth in front of the pedestal sink together, but he kept meeting her gaze in the mirror with that dark look in his eyes as he wrapped his lips around his toothbrush. It wasn’t until they’d taken turns rinsing out their mouths that he reached forward with a soft hand to brush his thumb over her mouth, parting her lips.

“May I?”

They’d been careful these last five days not to explore one another fully for fear of awakening that fever they’d sparked the first night, but it seemed that now that they were unchaining that desire, he wasn’t even going to wait until they’d returned to the bed to begin. She knew exactly what he wanted, so she opened her mouth so that he could flip his hand over and run the pad of his thumb over her pointed canines.

“Seems a peculiar evolutionary form for a mostly herbivorous species,” he remarked objectively, thinking of the history of her people.

“Who says they’re for eating? We weren’t always so civilized,” she replied with an open-mouthed grin before nipping sharply at his flesh, subtly reminding him of the somewhat violent history with his species on her planet.

“Oh,” he said, raising his eyebrows, the stirrings of discomfort beginning to gather in his mind. Try as he might, he couldn’t completely mask his distaste at her suggestion and was doing his best to rationalize the practice as necessary measures taken against the enemy.

She smiled at his attempt at open-mindedness and answered him before he could even form the question, “Long, long, long before I was born—before we developed weapons and evolved into telepaths. _I_ certainly never took part in such practices.”

“That’s quite a relief to know,” he said on a sigh as he settled his hand on her neck. “I’d hate to awaken in the middle of the night to find myself . . . have you ever heard of the legend of a creature called a vampire?”

“Ha! No, nothing like that at all,” she laughed, tilting her head, squinting in mirth and tenderness at him. Though she tried to keep them still, the tips of her ears quivered with her laughter, and his eyes darted immediately to the tremor of her hair. “Though I must admit, I am _very_ attracted to your neck, if for different reasons.”

“May I?” he asked again with a tentative hand grazing slowly up her cheek and into her hair.

She was beginning to realize exactly how he had felt that first time she’d undressed him that night in Lestallum. She hadn’t thought of it in such a way, but she’d been wearing the clothes of humanity for far longer than she’d worn her own face, and this was the first time she was appearing as herself before her husband. He’d been so adoring, so curious since she’d returned. How much would his affection allow him to let slide before it became too much for him? He wasn’t like the humans on Miriásia—growing up on the legends of the beautiful immortal beings that lived deep in the heart of the Forest of the Ancients and lured unassuming mortals to their downy, starlit bowers with bewitching songs and the promise of hours of pleasure beyond imagination.

Still, he seemed eager, so she nodded her assent.

The tip of her ear flickered of its own accord as he tucked her hair back and gently grasped it between his thumb and forefinger before edging his way down to her lobe with near painful slowness, his mind buzzing with questions and longing.

“What is their range of movement? Do you find there is a benefit to them moving in that manner?”

“I did so miss that inquisitive mind of yours,” she said with a warm smile, cupping a hand to his cheek. “No more than what you’ve seen, and . . . I find I am able to pinpoint the location of a sound with greater accuracy.”

“I see,” he acknowledged before leaning in to graze his lips along where his fingers had just traced, his hot breath stuttering in her ear. “They’re lovely,” he whispered. “Thank you for showing me.”

“They’re a pain in the ass,” she gasped against his neck. “An entirely new set of ridiculous social rules to follow about when it is and isn’t appropriate to move them and how.”

He chuckled, pulling back with twinkling eyes before saying, “You _would_ find the oddest aspect of improved hearing to grouse about.”

The calm, rational way they spread the bath sheets over the bed was so very incongruous to any other day like this she’d had in the past, so very incongruous to the quivering in her gut, the warmth spreading up to her ears and down to her toes, and the edge of tension to her teeth. She could smell it on him from across the bed—mixed in with the coffee and sage, that indefinable heady aroma of testosterone and other hormones and those gods damned pheromones . . . sweet, spicy, and warm in a way that made her mouth water as she inhaled.

Ignis reached for the edges of his t-shirt as he stalked to her side of the bed, the muscles in his arms and shoulders rolling beneath his skin as he lifted it over his head and tossed it haphazardly on the wingback chair next to the bed.

“Ignis, please,” she begged feverishly.

“Yes,” he growled, reaching for the hem of her t-shirt, but as she lifted her arms, expecting him to nearly rip it off her, he surprised her by gently raising it over her head and casually tossing it over his on the armchair.

She could feel it taking over—that haze that made her want to leap at him, bury her face in his neck, and impale herself on his cock until he’d been reduced to a vessel of bliss. She wanted his love, his pleasure, his seed—down her throat, inside her, on her—it didn’t particularly matter all of the sudden. And even if their union could bear no fruit, that desire to mate with him hung as heavy in her chest as it apparently did in his groin.

But when she reached out to grasp his head to pull him down to her mouth, he stilled her, bringing his hands up just shy of where hers hovered in the air between them.

“Please, I want . . .,” he swallowed. “I only get one chance at this, do I not? Please, let me explore you first.”

He would never make it—already his eyes were manic and glaring, the bulge of his jaw twitching as he gritted his teeth, his breath labored, his erection tugging at his pajamas. A beautiful blush of heat was slowly spreading across his face and down his neck as he stared down at her, and she shuddered against the desire to leap up onto him and nibble across that sharp, pink cheekbone of his.

“All right,” she agreed, taking in a deep breath of his musk, disconnecting her agency from the nearly violent need to do _something_ about the ache in her blood, and taking a small step back as though to offer up her body to his whims.

With a sharp exhale he brought his trembling hands to her sides, running his large, warm palms down her pebbling skin to the waistband of her shorts. He kept the coiled tension thrumming in his mind under a tight rein, careful not to come too close and breathe in her scent as he grasped the elastic and pushed her shorts and panties down her hips, sending them skimming down her legs with a shiver and landing at her feet.

“Get on the bed,” he commanded somewhat harshly in a low, rough voice, but when she tilted her head, a slow smile spreading over her lips and the word _bossy_ reverberating in her mind, he softened to a hoarse whisper, “please.”

She obeyed, keeping her eyes locked on his blazing viridian ones as she lay across the bed, watching as his focus drifted from her face down the line of her body. They lingered on the contrast of her red areolae and ivory skin in the light of her pale-blue aura; the tight, quivering skin of her abdomen, completely healed of the slit torn across the width of her body from an MT’s sword; all the way down to her long toes—longer than even his, he noted with some fond remembrance for the first time she had made a remark about his feet.

“Turn off the light,” she said softly.

“But I want to see you in every detail.”

“And you will as the sun rises, but remember that it is only in the dark that one can see the stars.”

She closed her eyes as he turned out the light, apprehensive to see the expression on his face as he took in the sight of her body in complete darkness for the first time—the play of the corona of subtle light radiating from her skin, the more delicate patterning of swirling stars that shimmered and danced in wandering vines down her neck, across her shoulders, circling to the tips of her fingers, meandering down her torso, and curling around her toes.

His mind stilled for a suspenseful moment before relaxing into awe.

 _Divine,_ he breathed as he pushed his own pajamas down his hips and crawled up her legs. _All my years spent on this eos as a servant, never in my life did I dream I would be permitted to use my body to love a piece of the heavens, and that she would love me in return._

 _I do,_ she said on a relieved sigh, tilting her head back into the mattress as he buried his fingers in her hair and combed them through the strands, forming a raven halo around her head that draped off the edge of the bed. _Gods, Ignis, I truly do. But you’re not my servant._

The hairs of his inner thighs tickled at her skin as he settled lightly over her hips, straddling her and displaying almost proudly the evidence of his desire in the form of his flushed and swollen cock, glistening at the tip. His scent was everywhere already—saturating her skin as it rolled off him in heated waves, and _stars_ , she wanted him to plunge into her, to stretch her just to the point of pain, to fill her up as he pinned her down. But he was the very paragon of self-discipline as he took a deep breath of fresh air, his nostrils flaring with the inhalation, before leaning down to nip, kiss, and lick gently at her ear, down her jaw, and over the cords of her throat.

 _You’re right,_ he said, punctuating his words with a swift, sharp bite to her collarbone before kissing his way down her arm. _I’m your **husband**. And I must say, I find even more pleasure worshipping you in that respect._

“Ignis,” she keened, reaching out to grasp a handful of hair at the nape of his neck, but he caught her wrist tightly and pinned it to the bed next to her head.

“Please, I couldn’t manage this if you . . .,” he seemed to choke on his words for a moment as he closed his eyes and turned his head, his jaw twitching in agitation. And as the barriers in his mind shuddered before returning, she could _feel_ him—that naked, desperate fire roiling in his gut, the desire to consume and bite and breed with her.

She whimpered and nodded, bringing her hands above her head to claw desperately at the edge of the mattress as he resumed his exploration—his lips and wet tongue trailing languidly through the path of stars that circled one of her nipples. But _oh gods,_ his thoughts had stoked that fire in her just as much as his hot mouth and pinching fingers on her breasts were currently doing. It was only as she squirmed, pressing her thighs together and shivering at the cool air hitting the soaked skin there that he courteously offered her some assistance by inserting a knee between her legs for her to shamelessly rut against. She kept her frantic thoughts behind her own barrier, however, refusing to add fuel to their restrained feedback loop lest she sabotage this sweet torture he was performing.

And what a masterful performance it was—eloquent praise spilling from elegant lips in vibrating murmurs against her skin as he circled her navel, idly wondering at how human, how _his_ her body still seemed to be. That space in her mind that had been bleeding and cold for so very long was full and glowing—a tender, affectionate incandescence that still somehow managed to stoke the fires of her own forge as he continued to stroke her skin with skimming fingers and a blazing hot, panting mouth.

“Do you have any idea how very beautiful you are?” he crooned in a velvet voice into the tops of her feet, his lips skimming over her long toes and his mind emphasizing that he was including both her bodies in his words.

She let the gratitude swelling her hearts at his sweetness wash into his mind, but aloud, she chanted on an exhale, “Ithīr, tye méla. Tye méla. _Oh,_ elenath, Ithīr, tye méla.”

“Yessss,” he hissed, the lingering fricative dancing across her skin. “Tye méla.”

His own barriers growing weak, that incandescence gradually flared into a conflagration and spilled into her already overheated synapses when he gracefully flipped her over to her stomach and began again, this time lipping and biting at her calves and reaching up to stoke the pattern of stars that wound up her spine.

She couldn’t take this sensual teasing any longer, no matter how much he was reveling in his own delicious agony. Had he truly been a virgin when they’d first met? He seemed to know too much about meticulously, thoroughly unravelling her without even having to resort to taking her apart telepathically. Whatever he’d been, he was now a man released from those bonds of his early days—unhindered in his passion for expressing himself with his body but with a sense of control she herself had never possessed. He was the epitome of refined intensity in that moment, despite his arousal transforming his trembling into violent shudders as he began to lose his tenuous grip on himself.

His fire had been awakened, and if he was the flame, why was he giving her the chills?

“Ignis, love, _please_ ,” she cried out breathily, not giving a flying rat’s ass about dignity. She slid her knees beneath her, raising her hips in the air and exposing her dripping sex to his face.

“ _Oh,_ ” he groaned, immediately surging forward, plunging nose-deep into her, and she nearly sobbed at the sheer ecstasy of that nimble tongue of his _finally_ sending those bolts of pleasure up her spine. Burying her face into the mattress, she released the cry as her back arched into the contact.

_You’re exquisite, Rose. Please don’t hide your pleasure from me. I want to hear my name fall from your lips, from your mind._

But as that spiraling coil was fast preparing itself to spring, almost embarrassingly quickly at his insistent, wriggling tongue against where he knew she needed it most, all she could think about was how desperately she wanted his cock shoved down her throat, how much she _needed_ to suck him dry. Looking into his mind, she could sense him reveling in being so completely immersed in her sex, and the hand that wasn’t frantically kneading the curve of her ass was spreading his dripping precum down his shaft in swift sure strokes.

“Ignis!” she shrieked at the white-hot point of pleasure that pierced her, every point of light on her skin pulsing in time to her orgasm. But she had to cry out again as Ignis pulled back, flipped her over, and plunged his seeping cock into her so forcefully that he grunted out an open-mouth growl when his balls smacked against her. He lifted her hips with his large hands and set a relentless pace, biting his lower lip and throwing his head back in exaltation.

“By the light of all the stars, look at you shimmer for me. So beautiful,” he groaned, removing a hand to stroke the patterns on her belly, the whorls of his fingerprints singeing heat across her skin as she rode out her climax and nearly immediately fell into the foundations of what could be another very, very soon.

He was the image of sinuous grace, the way the muscles in his abdomen constricted and relaxed with each jerking thrust that set her breasts to bouncing and her walls to tighten around him. The sounds they were making together would almost be enough to send her over the edge—her breathy moans, his heavy panting, the wet sucking as he pulled out, and the smacking of his balls against her as he thrust back in. But for once, he wasn’t meeting her gaze, and when she looked through his to see what he was staring at with those blazing emerald eyes, she had to bite her own lip and groan at the sight of his glistening girth, drenched with her fluid, stretching and tugging at her labia as he pounded and pulled at her sex.

“Do you see that?” he asked in a gravelly melodious tone as he sent her the sensation of the drag of his tongue over her clitoris. He let out a grunt as their hipbones collided with another forceful thrust. “Do you _smell_ that? It’s _us_ , Rose.”

“Yes, _oh bloody hell,_ Ignis, I can,” she managed through quick, shallow gasps.

He was holding on with every fiber of his being, she could tell, but he could never hold out for long once she’d started shaking around him. Leaning over her, he whispered in a dark voice.

“Come with me, love. I want to see you sparkle.”

That powerful wall of sensation hit them both at the very same moment as he spilled himself into her with a shout of her name, and she arched up into him, clenching into his torrential rush of warmth. She could feel her sharp teeth denting the skin of his shoulder as they rode out the shockwaves together, and not wishing to hurt him, she reluctantly tore her mouth away to find his lips instead.

But as he pulled out and collapsed breathless on the pillows beside her, he whimpered in frustration.

“Rose,” he cried out in supplication, his hand moving to stroke his cock—still rock-hard and slick with his come and hers, “I’m still . . ..”

With that feverish desire for his seed sated, Laura was overcome by an entirely different need—the need for his skin, his hands, his mind, his heart. She needed to _love_ him.

“Yes, let me take care of you,” she said softly, moving his hand away so she could lower herself onto his length with a sigh.  

The pace she set was slower, worshipping—the fluid from their last joining seeping out of her and pooling at the base of him, dripping down his testicles as they moved together. But too far gone to find it in himself to care about the mess, he was entirely focused on filling her womb again. The pads of his fingers skimmed lovingly up and down the length of her body, but as she leaned over him, her long hair falling around his face and engulfing him in a fresh nebula of her scent, he grew more urgent, digging his blunt fingertips into her hips rolling sensuously up and down his length.

“ _Please,_ ” he begged as she grazed her teeth over his neck and ran her tongue over his exposed Adam’s apple. When she pulled back to gaze into his worshipful eyes, to see for herself those dark pupils blown wide, they rolled up into his head as his neck fell back into the pillow, his mouth falling open so he could pull in a deeper breath. “Rose, please, _more_.”

“I’ve got you, love,” she whispered before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Just feel.”

 _This_ . . . this was their purging, their cleansing, their absolution—a rapturous hallelujah and a blessed release of every pent-up emotion they’d experienced in their time without each other. And as the sun slowly rose, obscuring the stars in the sky and on her skin, making the very air between them glow gold, she soaked in his every breath, every expression, every emotion as he ran his hands over her—as her own fingers roamed over the planes of his chest, up to his sharp jaw, and over his elegant lips. Her beautiful miracle made flesh, writhing in ecstasy right here beneath her.

Soothing his stirrings of remorse that she wasn’t coming with him, she pressed as much of her skin as she physically could against his as he curled into her, his every muscle going taut as he released himself and fell back onto the mattress with a sigh.

 _I love you,_ he said, his hand snaking up to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck and pressing her more deeply into the crook of his. Bringing his other hand around her back, he ghosted his fingertips down her spine, making her shudder.

Closer, she couldn’t get close enough as she lay on top of him, cradled in his arms and nuzzling insistently into his neck. She wanted to drown in that glorious warm scent of his, to dive deep into the love and admiration bounding over his mindscape. Though the shiver that sparked through his nerves was more likely due to the sheen of sweat drying over his body, her nails grazing over his ribs was certainly adding to the sensation. But she just couldn’t stop _touching_ him, couldn’t stop licking and placing feathery kisses on every beautiful freckle that speckled his shoulder.

 _And I love you,_ she said, allowing her body to grow warmer so he wouldn’t get chilled—and perhaps to encourage him to keep pressing her closer.

He was gentle now, the bonfire reduced to a flickering flame, but this was merely the eye of the storm, a period of calm before he was rekindled into yet another inferno. The rest of today would be desperate and frantic, slow and passionate, and everything in between—a glorious madness. For now, she took advantage of this quiet, melting into his warm flesh, carried away by the waves from the swell and fall of his chest with every slow, sweet breath he took.

“This moment, here—this is my favorite part of living,” she murmured into his mop of hair by his ear.

Running his hands reverently over her back, he turned his head to press a soft, smiling kiss to her cheek before replying, “I know. I can feel it from you every time I touch you like this. Why do you think I do it so often?”

“Because you’re sweet.”

“Because I want to memorize the feel of your skin under my palms, to know you by scent alone, to be able to recall every nuance of your flavor on my tongue, to be able to recognize every sound you’re capable of making.”

“Ignis,” she breathed in a pained voice, knowing full-well the root of his stirring of melancholy.

“Never again, Rose,” he promised against her neck, “I’ll never forget again.”

***

The sun had already set when Laura snuggled into the crook of Ignis’s arm, still exuding an aura of damp humidity from their shower. Gathering a lock of her hair and feathering it over his chest like a paintbrush, she smiled serenely at his expression—exhausted from pleasure and contentment instead of stress and overwork.

“I can see now why you required us to be well rested,” he said, cracking an eyelid open to give her a slow, twinkling smile in return. “Such rigorous activity for such an extended period could kill a man.”

“Yes, but what a way to go.”

“Indeed,” he exhaled. He allowed a moment of silence to pass between them before he said, “So, tomorrow we join the others again?”

“Yes. I have some things to give all of you, perhaps over some lunch. And then tomorrow evening, we should take care of the diary and Pitioss.”

His arms tensed around her as he frowned. “My pen is likely irretrievable. The shop was completely obliterated in the destruction. Perhaps the First Secretary would be so kind as to allow me the use of one of hers, as a paradox is at stake.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she said, turning her head to press a kiss to the mole near his armpit. “I’ve already closed one of the time loops.”

“And have you fully aligned?” he asked before his tone grew more accusing. “You always seem to hide your pain from me, and I myself have still never experienced what the others have, so I can’t tell. I don’t want you near that accursed Rock unless under the most optimal of circumstances.”

She smiled into his chest. “I am. I had a bit more skin-to-skin contact this time than last time, so it didn’t take quite as long,” she said, thinking of every night his hands had snaked up underneath her shirt and spread wide over her belly as they slept. The burn of his proximity had been near-excruciating that first night, but _stars_ , so worth it.

“Good,” he said with a nod. “I must admit I am eager to move on. Perhaps we should leave earlier than planned so as to circumvent whatever plans the Chancellor may have for us. We’re not exactly hiding here at the Leville.”

“I’ll leave that up to the four of you, but whether or not he finds us, things will be different now.”

It was clear from her review of Ignis’s recollections of their encounter with Ardyn that he no longer believed her to be Shiva, but which tone their interactions took in the future were entirely dependent on him. Ardyn’s mercurial nature could mean that violence between the two of them could escalate, an outcome she was hoping to avoid, as it would put her charges in greater danger. Laura was hoping that his desire for knowledge would override the need to take revenge for blistering lava she’d left in his mind enough to make him curious, but she wasn’t holding out hope. She knew from her experience as the anathema to Eos that the searing brand the goddess left on the psyche was no easy suffering to endure.

Only time would tell, but she had something over him now.

  _Just be careful, please,_ he pleaded. _I couldn’t bear to see you in such a state again. A part of me died that day and hasn’t yet fully revived._

Shame rolled through him at his role in her demise that day, but as she propped herself up to caress his cheek and reassure him, he asked in a hesitant tone, “Do you . . . do you have additional insights into the future? I don’t need to know what they are, but I’d like to be prepared.”

For once, she could answer completely freely, “No. Noct’s fate was the last.” But when he let out a long breath, she felt it only fair to warn him, “That doesn’t mean I won’t receive more in the future.”

“I understand,” he said calmly, pulling her back down to his chest and hugging her tightly. “I truly do.”

His mind prickled in silent thought for a few minutes, and when she felt a cloud of wistfulness settle over his mind, she looked up at him questioningly.

“If we’re meeting the others tomorrow, how will you have the time to transform? I was under the impression the process was time consuming?”

Left with twelve years to imagine her return, she’d been inspired by this world’s use of magic flasks to store spells for later use. Her people often used jewels to store energy for future use, but they’d had yet to discover a way to store cast spells. An empty magical flask in her Pocket was all she’d needed to store the completed day-long spell, and with the added benefit of being able to create it using energy from her homeworld.

“The transformation will be instantaneous,” she replied as she sent him these memories.

“So tonight is the last night I have with this body,” he said, his lips pulling down slightly as he brought his hand up to idly feather a fingertip over the shell of her ear.

“Yes,” she said, growing uneasy. Gods, though he’d always been so accepting of every wild thing she’d thrown at him, she couldn’t help but wonder, “Which . . .?” but she couldn’t complete the thought.

“Both,” he said without hesitation. “I find you both equally enchanting. I confess I shall miss seeing you like this just as much as I miss your human form now.”

Yes, he truly was her miracle, her home. “Thank you. You can still see me like this whenever you wish, you know, in our dreams. You only have to ask.”

“I certainly will,” he said, shifting to his side so he could hold her against his chest. “Will you be all right tomorrow? Among all the people once again?”

“Well enough. I may need some help in public. Would you mind pulling me back if you feel me starting to wander?”

“Of course.”

She could feel his eyes growing heavy with fatigue; he was ready for a quiet adventure this evening, but there was one last thing they needed to finish here in the real world before she could sweep him away—perhaps to choose a piano for him. His eyelashes fluttered delicately against her chin as she stretched her neck up to press her lips to his scarred eyebrow. She would always find him stunning, no matter what, but it hurt her hearts to see him hurt, to see the evidence that he’d once been mistreated. The shame that washed over him every time he was somehow made aware of their existence was also distressing, so being able to wipe away this one source of unhappiness would be her honor.

Hopefully, with time, she could do the same with the scars inflicted on his beautiful heart.

“Help me,” she breathed against him, the hairs of his eyebrow tickling against her sensitive lips. Truly, she didn’t need his assistance to do this, but there was a double benefit of easing the strain of this universe on her and providing him an opportunity to practice.

When she felt his mind wrap around hers and reach out for his connection to the Crystal, she began to chant, “Náranath araīm, logara oá lliana. Mumúren ath narathat, la thana.”

Exhaling the sparkling green energy of their combined magic and doing her best to ignore the reduced burn of her incompatibility with the planet, she skimmed her lips over his brow, ensuring that all evidence of injury was erased on his skin and the hairs regrown before moving to the bridge of his nose.

His lips parted to inhale raggedly as she breathed the last of the spell onto his mouth, his eyes falling closed, and the moment the last of the energy trickled off her tongue, he surged forward to kiss her hungrily.

_Thank you._

_You are most welcome, Ignis. Always._

“Let’s go home,” she said tiredly when she pulled away and snuggled into his chest again. “We’ll need plenty of sleep tonight if we’re to convince the others we’re all right tomorrow.”

A puff of air blew across the top of her head as he sighed. “Better than all right,” he mumbled sleepily.

He’d already drifted off by the time she pressed her mouth to his chest, the sparse, honey-colored hairs prickling against her face as the beats of his heart pulsed against her lips. But as she closed her eyes to fully immerse herself in their shared world, a flash of viciously purple fire seared across the backs of her eyelids.

The skin of the universe was slowly growing thinner.


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may be tempted to skip over the science report, but not all of it is canon, so fair warning there.

“So that was the last of the temporary bridges we’re gonna put up? Seems like we had about a million on our list a week ago,” Prompto sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead as the three of them staggered to the Leville.

“Claustra’s decided to take it another way. Seems Iggy made an impact. Dunno what _kind_ of impact, but definitely made one,” Gladio said.

Noct looked up from his phone. “Speaking of Iggy, says to meet him and Laura for lunch outside the hotel. Guess they cooked or something.”

“Laura’s gonna be there too? Outside? Guess that means she’s not all weird anymore,” Prompto said, swinging his arms back and forth wildly.

None of them had gotten so much as a glimpse of Laura since she’d shown up looking like an alien spaced out on drugs, but Iggy had assured them all that she’d been recovering on schedule every time he came across the hall to put together a quick lunch and dinner for them. Though Noct didn’t really see why Laura felt she needed to avoid them all week, he had to admit he was glad she hadn’t been around. The return of that burning need to summon something and jam it through her heart was all too familiar, and it brought back that nightmarish vision of her twisting in agony beneath his steel as the blood poured from her shoulder. He didn’t wanna have to experience anything like that ever again, for either of them.

And if the drastic improvement in Iggy’s coloring this past week was anything to go by, the two of them had been doing just fine on their own anyway.

“Surprised the both of them are showin’ up today, after yesterday,” Gladio said.

“Yeah,” Noct agreed.

Iggy had been religiously visiting them twice a day—until yesterday, when they’d received a text that he wouldn’t be coming over and to please excuse him. Since Iggy’d said everything was fine, no one had really been worried for them, but Noct hadn’t expected this invitation with Laura _and_ Iggy only a day after.

The hotel was one of the few places that still had patio furniture for its customers, as they must’ve moved their tables and chairs inside before the rite began, so it was easy to spot the two of them in the courtyard outside the Leville as they set the patio table and chatted easily with each other. Noct could only see the back of Laura’s head as she leaned over the table to place a few little dishes in the center, and, remembering that terrible day Iggy had combed out and braided her hair, he wondered how much Iggy had been involved in getting her ready this morning. Half of her long black hair was spilling down her back, with the other half in some kinda intricate braid as thick as a belt and several smaller twists draping down like streamers. The little gold flowers tucked into her hair glimmered in the afternoon light as she turned to greet them.

“Hey guys!” she said with a wide smile and a wave. “You hungry?”

“Wow,” Prompto said under his breath. “She looks so much better.”

“They both do,” Gladio agreed.

Since they’d been seeing Iggy every day for the past week, his appearance came as less of a surprise, except that the scars on his face had been completely removed—Laura’s work, Noct bet. Laura herself looked almost completely back to normal—the light from her skin disappeared and the features of her face completely human. Studying her expression, Noct thought she still looked a little on the dreamy side, but mostly alert, at least.

“Hey, Princess!” Gladio greeted, rushing over to pick her up into a rough hug and kiss her on the cheek.

When Gladio put her down, Prompto sidled up to her, putting an arm around her shoulder. “Good to see ya lookin’ so much better!”

“Yeah, looks like Iggy’s magic worked wonders for ya,” Gladio said with a wink.

“What can I say?” she replied with a leer. “The man is a master at everything he does.”

“He’s definitely good with a lance, I can tell ya. You’re one lucky woman.”

Iggy sat down at the table and lowered his head, shaking it. “May the Draconian run me through with a blade. What have I said about leaving me out of this game of yours? We’re in public, for Astrals’ sake.”

Gladio reached over to slap Iggy hard a couple of times on the back before flipping a chair around to sit down backwards on it, and Noct took a seat between the two of them.

“Sorry, Ig. You’re just too easy. How’s that married life been treatin’ ya, anyway?”

“Oh my gods,” Laura said, looking over at Iggy as she sat down next to him with wide eyes. “You finally told them?”

“Screamed it at us, more like,” Prompto muttered as he took his own chair at the table.

Gladio grinned as he looked over at Laura. “So, you added yet _another_ name to that mouthful you’ve already got? What’re we s’posed call you now, anyway?”

“I’ll never go by my full name here. Could you imagine the address labels? But . . . perhaps Laura Scientia when it’s safe to do so—if that’s all right with Ignis.”

The light that shone in Iggy’s eyes at her words made him appear unrecognizable to Noct for a second, and he had to glance away at the surprising intensity of the pain that stabbed through his chest at the sight. Ignis was _glowing_.

“Of course it’s all right,” he said like it was obvious, like he wasn’t hiding the fact that he was about float away with joy. But then he suddenly turned to Noct, his eyes narrowing as he inspected him. “Good afternoon, Highness,” he said carefully. “How are you feeling?”

Noct fidgeted a little under his scrutiny. Truth was that he wasn’t feeling all that great. Ever since Leviathan, he’d felt even heavier, even more worn down, and it wasn’t improving. It’d been even harder to get up every morning and do what was expected of him. He could tell Gladio was starting to get irritated, but after everything that had happened, Noct was struggling to find it in himself to care about what Gladio thought.

He wished Iggy wouldn’t treat him like this though, like he was some kinda little kid. As much as he hated the feeling, he had to admit it was bothering him a little—all this . . . _love_ in the air. Iggy and Laura were doing their best to hide it like they always did, but now that Noct knew they were _married_ , he could see it plain as day on their faces—that light in their eyes. Was this what he and Luna would’ve been like if she’d . . .. He was trying really hard not to be jealous. It was best not to think about it.

“I’m good, Specs. And it’s good to have you back, Laura,” he said, leaning forward to catch her eyes at the end of the table. “Thanks . . . you know, for what you did.”

Laura looked down at her lap. “I only wish I could’ve done more,” she said quietly. When she looked up in Gladio’s direction, she smiled softly and said, “And thank you for trusting me. I know that can’t have been easy.”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “We gotta get all the details behind all your weird medical shit for future reference.”

“Well, I didn’t know until I was infected that it was something I could fight off, but in any case, Ignis is more aware of my capabilities now.”

“Much to my relief,” Iggy said with a nod.

Noct was starting to feel a little sick at the memories of being back on that altar, his stomach seeming to turn to lead as his gut twisted, so he changed the subject. “So, what is all this stuff, anyway?” he asked, nodding at the eleven bowls on the table. He assumed it was supposed to be some kinda food, but he didn’t really recognize much, and the colors of the bowls’ contents made the table look more like a finger painting project than a meal.

“Sebastian allowed us the use of the kitchen, so I made you guys an Earth dish,” Laura said. “Doesn’t really have a name—just a bunch of brassicas cooked Middle Eastern style over rice and lentils.”

“All right! I love it when you cook, Laura!” Prompto cheered, but then he sobered, glancing guiltily over at Iggy. “No offense, but it’s different when a girl cooks for you. Plus, the food Laura makes is _weird_ , but like, in a good way!”

“I’ve no objections,” Iggy said smoothly. “For all that Laura claims to be a middling chef, her experience vastly outshines my own.”

“So what’s brassicas?” Prompto asked.

Laura opened her mouth to answer, but Iggy interrupted. “Don’t say it, please. Let them try it first.”

“It’s vegetables, Specs. I’m not blind,” Noct said, rolling his eyes. Really, what else was Laura gonna cook?

“So much for your evil plan,” Laura said to Iggy with a smile before turning to Prompto. “Cruciferous vegetables. I don’t know which of these exist on Eos and which don’t, so I’ll just point them all out.” Starting at the bowl directly in front of her, she pointed at each dish as she named them, “Baba ghanoush, shaved arugula and Brussels sprouts, lentils and rice, crispy falafel, pickled beets, pickled radishes, crispy onions, roasted carrots, marinated eggplant, and cauliflower. Ignis made some chickatrice for you all, as well. Just spoon up what you’d like into a single bowl. It’s all designed to go together, so you can’t make a bad combination.”

No one moved to serve themselves when she’d finished. Even Iggy seemed more interested in asking her questions about some of the work she’d done while he made the meat.

Noct tentatively sniffed at the air in front of him, eyeing the bowl of what looked like purple worms that she’d called pickled beets. As a whole, the dishes _smelled_ amazing—some kind of toasty-smelling spice, and he _was_ starving. But Noct had never seen so many vegetables on one table before, especially ones that looked like alien body parts dipped in food coloring. Even the foods whose names he knew, like the carrots, he didn’t recognize beyond the color.

“I thought a strong and malty black tea would go best with this meal, so there’s Simao spring tips in there,” Laura said, pointing to the teapot next to Gladio before turning her finger to Noct. “ _You_ , you’re trying a bit of everything on this table, and you’re going to like it!”

“All right, all right,” he said with a sigh as she picked up one of the empty bowls and started spooning a little of each color into it. “I’ll give it a shot. You haven’t killed us yet.”

“I’m beginning to believe that it’s only with me that you put up such a struggle,” Iggy muttered under his breath.

“Shut up,” Noct said, pushing him over in his chair a little as he chuckled.

“Cause you’re the only one who babies him,” Gladio pointed out as he and Prompto each grabbed an empty bowl.

When Laura handed him the bowl, he couldn’t help but grimace a little. It was just so . . . _colorful_. Blegh. Tentatively, he took a bite, painfully aware that the others had all paused in serving themselves and were watching him with interest. He didn’t see what the big deal was. It wasn’t like he’d never eaten a vegetable before.

But he should’ve known he’d never eaten any vegetables like these before. Iggy’d tried everything over the years to disguise vegetables in his food: using different spices, cutting them up smaller and mixing them in with stuff, even going so far as to wrap them in garula bacon. He’d gotten pretty decent at it, too, but that didn’t mean Noct was ever gonna love vegetables. Laura’s, though—they were savory, spicy, toasty, and warm. If he didn’t pay attention to all the different shapes and textures, he could _almost_ pretend he wasn’t eating vegetables at all . . . almost.

“It’s all right,” he said with a shrug.

“And I believe,” Ignis said, “that is the most enthusiasm he can manage to muster about a bowl of vegetables.”

“You got that right.”

Noct ducked his head down to his bowl and concentrated on eating his lunch, not really paying attention to the others’ chatter about ‘what the fuck were they even eating’ as they dug in. Laura was in the middle of some kinda lesson on pickling for Iggy’s entertainment when a chime sounded from Iggy’s pocket.

“I must beg your pardon,” Iggy said, pulling out his phone. “I set this tone for Sania. I’ve been anticipating her report for over a week now.”

“What is it?” Noct asked.

Iggy’s eyes darted over his phone screen for several seconds before his gaze shot up to Laura. When Laura’s eyes widened a little, Noct realized they were doing their mind thing, which still kinda weirded him out a little when he thought about it. Iggy turned to him, his expression still a little distracted-looking as he held his phone out.

“You may want to scan this.”

Noct grimaced and took the phone, looking down at the attachment.

_Mr. Scientia:_

_I don’t have the time to write up a full report; there’s too much work to do! Here are the basics of what we’ve found so far._

**_Pathology of the Starscourge_ **

_The plasmodia responsible for the contagion has been isolated as the cause for transformation. The strand mutated from insect-borne malarial parasites that incubate within human hosts. Additional studies are being conducted on vectors of transmission, possible immunity, and what causes transformation._

_A probable vector, though not the primary source, is a nest of festering plasmodium bacteria, which this researcher has coined “the nidus.”_

**Geophysical Survey of Atmospheric Conditions**

_The presence of soot-like photophilic particles was confirmed in samples of air taken at varying elevations, with notably higher concentrations at higher altitudes. Photophilic particles have begun to subsume the ozone layer, and the observed reduction of daylight on Eos can be attributed primarily to their light-absorbing properties._

_In addition to this, solar output measured between the hours of 06:00-10:00 and 14:00-19:00 is becoming erratic, with a strong negative correlation in wattage trends. The cause of this is unknown; however, the overall reduction of light output throughout the twenty-four-hour cycle contributes to the effects of the photophilic layer blanketing the atmosphere._

**Study on the Nature of Photophilic Particles**

_On examining multiple correlations between the photophilic particles responsible for the blight and the mutant strand of plasmodium associated with the daemons, we have discovered a clear causal relationship. Furthermore, given the mass dispersal of photophilic particles upon death, the daemon presence is likely accountable for the violent ecological shifts as of late._

Noct looked up from the phone in disbelief as he passed it over to Prompto.

“English, Specs.”

“What exactly is it that you don’t understand?”

“I dunno. All of it?”

“Yeah,” Prompto agreed as he passed the phone to Gladio. “Sorry, but my brain just kinda shuts down with science talk.”

“First of all,” Laura cut in, “You’ll need to tell her to keep looking on the Starscourge pathology. The plasmodium may be an initial infection, but no way is it responsible for the transformation. That’s like saying, 'Whoopsie, this cold mutated, and now I've got extra fingers growing out of my head.' Except in this case, it's malaria turning people into daemons.”

“So a secondary infection, then?” Iggy asked, pulling out his notebook and a pen.

“Gross, Specs,” Noct said, making a face. “You didn’t just come up with a new recipe, did you?”

Noct swore the withering glare Iggy shot him was capable of melting the flesh off his face, but luckily, Laura distracted him from his annoyance by answering his question.

“Something vicious, like a virus. That thing was rapidly trying to rewrite my DNA, and it might have succeeded if my fourth strand weren’t in the fourth dimension. All the foreign nucleotides in my DNA probably had something to do with it, too.”

“Do you mean to say that part of your DNA is . . .,” he paused, seemingly unable to formulate his thoughts into words.

“Linked to the Time Vortex. One could only see it on a temporally-aligned scanner, but that’s not the point. I’ve seen things like this before, and they’re usually viruses. Just a hunch—tell her to look into viruses that affect T-cells.”

“I’ll pass along the message, but even making this a top priority, it will take some time, I imagine. For all her talents, medical science isn’t Dr. Yeagre’s bailiwick, and I’m afraid there never were many epidemiologists looking into the subject in Lucis. The research team she’s managed to pull together for this is a bit of a hodgepodge, unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry, but how can that possibly be? I understand that it’s only recently gotten out of control, but haven’t you all been aware of this illness’s existence for millennia?”

“To be fair, our society lacked the technology to study DNA and viruses for much of that time.”

“And then all the universities in Lucis were in Insomnia,” Gladio muttered. “And the daemons weren’t. Remember? Thought it was a disappearing disease until recently.”

The table went quiet for a moment as they picked at their lunches in thought. Noct had never really considered what kinda lives the people outside Insomnia led. To think that the only people able to get the education to help the world were all living very different lives behind a wall . . .. He knew his dad had done the best he could with what he was given, but it was still so wrong. Things were definitely gonna have to change. He only hoped the guys were up to the challenge, but looking around the table at everyone, he couldn’t think of anyone better for the job.

“As the Oracle’s powers to heal the scourge were derived of the gods, the golden power of Eos, the cure must somehow be connected to the Crystal, the womb of Eos,” Iggy said.

“I can help a bit on determining more about this virus, but it’ll have to wait until we get back from Gralea and set Noct up in a safe place to do whatever he’s supposed to do with the Crystal,” Laura said. “That’s our top priority right now.”

“Indeed,” Iggy agreed.

“I don’t get it,” Prompto said. “If Eos is the Goddess of the Dawn, why does she have the power to heal the scourge? And why didn’t she just heal herself whenever she got infected?”

“She is the embodiment of your star, Goddess of the Dawn, Goddess of the Sun, which brings life, light, and time to mortals,” Laura answered. “Her healing power would come from the ‘life’ portion, I would imagine, but if she was infected, the source of her power would be corrupted. Perhaps her womb was the last clean source, but not enough to save her.”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be? Goddess of the Dawn? Goddess of Time? Whatever?” Noct asked.

Laura nodded. “Yes, but unlike Eos, my titles are based on legends, reputation, and abilities I no longer have. I don’t have a symbiotic relationship with any star, anywhere, in any universe.”

“And speaking of Eos, notice Sania didn’t name Ravatogh as a source for the scourge—Eos’s and Ifrit’s burning bodies. Should probably tell her that too,” Gladio said.

“I hypothesize that because the rate of infection is no more or less than in other areas, the Rock is likely the primary source for the photophilic particles blocking the sun rather than the disease itself,” Iggy said. “That which we refer to as the Starscourge appears to be responsible for both the darkness and the mutations.”

Prompto pointed his fork at Iggy and asked, “So that’s why there’re more particles at higher altitudes?”

“Yes, too dispersed to be seen by the naked eye, but carried around the planet by wind currents and settling into the ozone, absorbing our light.”

“It’s not just that though,” Noct said. There was very little of that report he understood, but he did get this much. “Sania says the sun’s getting weaker.”

Laura nodded. “Yes. Eos grows weaker as she slowly dies, too weak to pierce the layer, so it’s only around the time you receive direct rays that you have daylight.”

Gladio handed Iggy’s phone back to him and said, “And we got another problem. Looks like every time we kill a daemon, it just releases more of those particles into the air. We’re making the darkness worse.”

“Yes, I noted that,” Iggy said before turning to Noct. “With your permission, I would like to inform the Marshal and Dave to immediately effect a policy wherein daemon slaughter is to only take place when lives are directly at stake.”

“It won’t do much to reduce the spread of particles, but every little bit is better than nothing,” Laura agreed.

“Yeah,” Noct said with a nod. “Do it.”

As Iggy sat back from the table and began typing furiously on his phone, Noct swirled his fork in the pasty beige blob Laura had spooned off to the side of his bowl—watching the way Iggy’s eyes would sometimes dart in Laura’s direction as he typed, the way she would minutely shake her head slightly in response. How long had they been doing this and he’d just not noticed? But with their connection explained, their cryptic couple thing, the way they would often start a conversation as though they were in the middle of one, made a lot more sense.

Laura took a deep breath, looking around at them all as Iggy continued to type.

“All right, come on! I brought gifts for you guys,” she said, scooting back in her chair and standing. “Gladio, you first.”

The sword she pulled out of her Pocket in a silver flash of light was unsurprisingly enormous—a broadsword of what looked like mythril, with a crossguard of delicate vines and an emerald about the size of Noct’s fist set into the hilt.

“My people didn’t make greatswords in the same fashion as you do in Lucis; yours look more like walls of steel. But it’s still large and well-suited to your fighting style, I think.”

“Damn, Princess,” Gladio said appreciatively, standing to take the hilt from her. He took a few steps away and swung the sword up over his head before bringing it down in a wide arc, nearly touching the paving stones with the tip before halting it. “It’s really light.”

“Yes. The mythril of our world is stronger and holds an edge, so you don’t have to sharpen it. But it’s light enough that you should be able to move faster on the field.”

Dismissing the sword into their armiger, Gladio turned back to her and pulled her into a hug. “Thanks,” he said gruffly.

Laura turned to Prompto when she sat back down and said, “Prom, I’m so sorry, but my people didn’t have guns or machinery of the type that you prefer. We were what you would probably think of as an ancient civilization.”

“Oh,” Prompto said, his face falling as he looked down at the table. “That’s okay. I’m just glad you’re back.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she said, and Prompto looked up, hope transforming his expression as she summoned a bulky bundle of fabric to her hands. “I collected the fleece from a brunostolín and made this for you.”

“Wow,” Prompto breathed, standing to put the black suede and white fleece coat on over his vest. “I can’t believe you made this . . . just for me. And it fits perfect. Thank you!”

“I figured with autumn coming up . . . now you won’t have to keep borrowing mine,” she said. “It won’t make you completely invulnerable to the frost, though, so no date nights with Shiva, if you please.”

When she turned to Ignis, his eyes widened a fraction as he said, “What more could you possibly give me?”

She smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up with affection as she summoned two daggers in a flash of silver light before placing them on the table.

“These strengthen your bonds to the Crystal,” she began, running her fingers over the shining wooden handles shot through with swirls of inlaid mythril. “I can’t smith blades, but I did have to remake the hilts to fit your hands. Therinal donated the wood for you, dear thing that he is. I think he fell a bit in love with you too, listening me chatter on about you so much.”

Her touch paused over the gem laid into the hilt of one of the daggers, its red-orange-yellow gradient sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. “These are firestones that Eilendil gave to me. It’s said they were taken from the molten heart of Miriásia by the first members of his race when the world was created.”

Speechless, Iggy picked up one of the blades and held it close to his face, closely inspecting the pointed etched script that wound up from the guard to the flat in swirling patterns. He nodded once at the blade, and Noct looked over at Laura to see her smile. As weird as it was to not hear Iggy thank someone, he guessed it was unnecessary for the two of them.

When her gaze turned to Noct, he had to look down at the table, awkwardness coiling in his stomach. Even though she’d seemed to match everyone with what seemed like the perfect gift so far, he couldn’t think of a single thing she could give him that he would want, and he really didn’t want to have to pretend to like something just to make her feel better. He was always terrible at doing that for Hootd, when strangers would give him fancy goblets or swords or something he’d never use.  

“Noct, I think between the Royal Armiger and your own favorite sword that you have enough to be getting along with in the way of weapons,” she said gravely, and he looked up at her to meet her serious gaze. “Yours was actually quite difficult to come up with because I couldn’t think of what you’d need that you don’t already have. But then, the answer was too obvious.”

His eyes followed hers as she looked at each of the other three sitting around the table.

“Them.”

Summoning a sparkling white stone hanging from a silver-white chain, she said, “That diamond will automatically give you all a potion from the armiger if your health is suffering, but you must be nearby. I’m sorry, I tried to embed the ability for the other curatives in there, but the conditions for the spell soon grew too complex. I didn’t want to mess it up and accidentally explode someone.”

“Yeah, that’d be bad,” he breathed out on a chuckle, but he didn’t really know what to say. After the altar, he couldn’t imagine losing someone, anyone else. His top priority, from now on, was to make sure not a single soul sacrificed themselves for him again. As he unclasped the chain and put it around his neck, he hoped whatever she was reading off his mind would convey what he was feeling as he murmured, “It’s perfect. Thanks.”

“Each of the items I’ve given you all will also protect you. I couldn’t make you invulnerable, unfortunately, but wielding them should help a little.”

“Wait a moment,” Iggy said in a sharp tone. “Where exactly is the energy coming from to accomplish this?”

“Pain in the ass,” she sighed quietly with a smile. In a louder voice, she said, “Not from me. Magical peoples on my planet stored excess energy in gemstones to use later for casting. I brought a couple to use for myself while I’m here, and you’ll notice there are stones on each of your items.”

When Prompto opened his mouth, a grimace forming on his face, Laura spoke before he could say anything. “Prom, your coat is lined with small stones between the layers, along the bottom. You’ll feel them if you squeeze the fabric between your fingers.”

“You sure you wanna give these to us? Seem kinda valuable,” Gladio said.

“And imbued with the life force of a powerful, extinct race. That makes them invaluable,” Iggy said, still running a hand carefully over the hilts of his daggers.

“I think my people would be happy to see their craftsmanship put to use protecting four good men.” Laura said. Her voice grew quiet as her eyes drifted down to the table. “I may have failed them, but I won’t fail you. I can’t.”

“Well . . .,” Gladio began as he furrowed his brow down at her, “you guys mind if we find a sparring arena or something so I can try this thing out? Always takes a bit getting used to a new sword.”

“Yes, and I should like to get a feel for these as well,” Iggy said. “There’s a sparring club near the Arena, if it’s escaped damage. There should be plenty of space for the four of us, should you care to join, Noct.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” he said, pushing his empty bowl away. “And then we’re gonna call Umbra tonight, right?”

“Indeed.”

“That’s not exactly gonna be a vacation for you near Ravatogh,” Gladio said, looking over to Laura. “You ready for that?”

“I’m aligned and mostly recovered,” she said with a shrug, “I’d like to think that Eos and I came to an understanding last time, and Pitioss isn’t on the Rock itself. I’ll be fine.”

After cleaning their dishes up, they all set out toward the Arena, silently walking the meandering route that took them over the temporary rope-plank bridges that he, Gladio, and Prompto had been helping to put up for the last three weeks. Despite the time passed, the once vibrant city felt deserted and desolate, the only flashes of colorful movement being the bright blue and orange tarps that covered roofs Leviathan had destroyed in her fit of rage. They caught the gentle breezes, puffing up with pressure and filling the silent afternoon with an eerie crackling sound that set Noct’s teeth on edge.

“Kinda miss that constant obnoxious accordion music,” Gladio muttered.

“I still hear it at night when I sleep,” Prompto said.

Laura smiled sympathetically. “Well, the place _is_ called Accordo. What do you expect?”

“Holy shit, I just got that,” Prompto said, his eyes going wide.

“It _is_ rather clever of them, if a bit repetitive,” Iggy said, pausing for a moment to look up at the cheery yellow tower building they’d reached. “And it appears as though the sparring arena is, in fact, still standing.”

“Good call, Specs,” Noct said as he ushered him through the door. The room wasn’t much—just a dusty oval arena surrounded by a white stone half-wall and a wooden path circling the outer edge—but they didn’t need anything besides the open space. The place was deserted, not even an attendant in sight, so they’d have plenty of room to spar and even use magic if they wanted. “How’d you find out about this place?”

“Laura and I have been practicing here since we arrived. There are places closer to the city’s center, but we preferred the larger space.”

Gladio clapped a hand on Laura’s shoulder and looked over at Iggy. “Whaddya say we pair off? Me and Ig against Noct and Princess.”

“Very well,” Iggy said with a grin. “I’ll take His Highness. Ground rules?”

“We’re here to test the blades, so no magic.”

“You _always_ say ‘no magic,’” Noct complained, rolling his eyes before glaring at Iggy. “And since when are _you_ my sparring partner?”

“I’ve schooled you in a great many things to date,” Iggy said haughtily, raising his chin in the air. “Call it a scholar’s curiosity, to know firsthand what mettle the ‘True King’ is made of.”

“So you guys ready to fight, or you gonna stand there and measure dicks?” Gladio asked.

“Whatever,” Noct growled, summoning his ultima blade. “Mine’s big enough. You’re the one with the little sword, _Gladiolus_.”

Even without magic, he was pretty sure he could still take Iggy on. It’d probably be a lot harder to beat him than it had back in Insomnia, but Iggy wasn’t the only one that had improved, and apparently, Iggy had come to rely on magic a lot to fight as well.

“Wanna bet?” Gladio growled back, summoning his new broadsword.

“Now, now, gentlemen,” Iggy chastised gently before turning to Gladio with a smirk. “Apologies for our delay. I’d never forgive myself if the length of my dialogue affected your performance.”

“Blimey, you blokes and your testosterone,” Laura remarked.

Prompto leaned over the wall, his camera in hand. “You guys don’t mind me. I’ll just be standing back here collecting memories of Gladio and Noct getting their asses kicked.”

“Sorry, Prom,” Laura said as she took her place across from Gladio. “I think I’ve had my fill of being shot at for a while. We could work on some hand-to-hand combat after, if you’re interested.”

“I dunno . . . maybe,” he said, his lips twisting in a grimace. “The blades and the fists and stuff just aren’t my thing.”

“Regardless of whether you enjoy it, we _should_ involve you today at some point,” Iggy said. “One must practice regularly to maintain acquired skills.”

“Next time? I wanna see this!”

“Very well, this particular match does already have one agenda, after all,” he said with a sigh before turning to Noct. “Are you ready, Highness?”

“Don’t hold back on my account, Ig. You see an opening, you take it.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Iggy said with a grin.

When Gladio signaled for them to begin, the four of them ran at each other, blades held at the ready, prepared to strike. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Laura taking a swipe at Gladio’s belly, but Noct’s attention was immediately pulled away from what looked like was gonna be an interesting fight by the flash of the flat of Iggy’s blade across his vision.

“Eyes forward,” Iggy instructed, spinning off to the left as Noct tried to tap him on the side.

Noct had fought pretty often with Iggy, even though Gladio was his preferred sparring partner. His usual style involved attack and retreat, regrouping to strategize, then advancing to attack again. Used to Gladio’s relentless strikes, Noct would often get bored fighting with Iggy, as his overthinking allowed Noct to let his mind wander. Noct’s tendency to get distracted was usually the only way Iggy ended up beating him, really. And while he knew Iggy would be be a lot more difficult to beat this time around, Noct expected him to fall back at least a little on familiar tactics when sparring with a familiar partner.

But as soon as they’d begun, Ig got right within reach of Noct’s blade and stayed there with no thought of retreat. At first, Noct thought this position would end the contest even faster, as all he needed to do was reach out to tap him. But every form of advance Gladio taught him couldn’t land a touch anywhere on Ignis. Like Laura often did, Iggy started out by making no move to attack, instead holding his blades out in a defensive position as he twisted and spun out of reach before Noct could land a point. Noct gritted his teeth in frustration as Iggy danced just out of his reach, a mocking smile on his face as he moved like he knew what Noct was gonna do before Noct even knew it himself.

“Hold still, you bastard,” Noct growled as he swiped his sword at Iggy’s arm.

“Language, Noct,” he replied with a wider grin, which only pissed Noct off more. “And I believe that would be counter-productive to winning, which is entirely the _point_.”

Deciding to get a little sneaky, Noct feinted to the left before spinning to the right as quickly as he could, surreptitiously summoning a durandal in his free hand to strike, but Iggy seemed to anticipate the move, meeting both blades with his daggers. After three more strikes, Noct had to dismiss his second blade—he was never any good at working with his left hand anyway. But as their weapons crossed again, Iggy dismissed his second dagger as well, reaching out to grab Noct by the wrist and twisting his arm up at an angle until Noct’s sword fell from his nerveless fingers into Iggy’s open palm. Bringing the stolen sword up to Noct’s neck, he lightly touched the cold flat of the blade to Noct’s skin with a smug smirk and glittering eyes.

“Point to Iggy!” Noct heard Prompto yell from the sidelines, and as Iggy stepped away, Noct looked over to see Prompto jumping up and down like a damn cheerleader.

“I taught you better than that, Noct,” Gladio said with a frown as he walked toward them, his sword over his shoulder and his chest heaving. “Never let your emotions control your actions in a battle.”

“To be fair, I was taunting him just a bit. Call it revenge for the past,” Iggy said, his smirk softening into a more genuine smile. “I’ve found that no opponent can get under one’s skin more than one’s own familiars.”

“That’s no excuse,” Gladio growled.

Noct shot him a glare. Yeah, it sucked he’d been beaten, but Iggy’d also been taking private lessons from a god, so it was hardly a fair fight. “Oh yeah? How’d you do then?”

Gladio let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “She kicked my ass. Probably always will. Not gonna stop me from trying. I’ll catch her off guard one of these days.”

“Keep dreaming, Princess!” Laura called out from behind him. When Iggy and Gladio turned, she came up between them, putting an arm around each of their shoulders. “Well? Did you get a feel for them? Are they all right?”

“Oh yeah, babe,” Gladio said with a wink. “Feels like I can go all night with this thing.”

Laura rolled her eyes up at him. “Men and their sword jokes.” Turning to Iggy, she asked, “And you?”

“They seem to be perfectly suited to my hands and style. Will the wooden hilts withstand the elemental extremes?”

“Just as effectively as any mythril,” she said with a smile.

Noct didn’t really know what made him say it; maybe he was a little miffed at being beat and wanted to see Iggy taken down a notch or two. But before he even thought about it, he opened his mouth to say, “Why don’t you two go next?”

“Oh hell yeah,” Gladio agreed, leering down at Laura. “Think it’s about time you show us what you got.”

“Well,” she drawled, “I’ve got the moves, but I wouldn’t want to boast.”

“Aww, come on! Please?” Prompto begged.  

Iggy’s and Laura’s eyes met, and Laura raised a single eyebrow at him. Iggy tilted his head a little as though in thought before giving a little mouth shrug, as if to say, “Why not?” and watching the two of them, Noct supposed he probably was.

With a fake exasperated sigh, Iggy said, “Oh, very well then. I only ask the rest of you vacate the ring for this. We tend to use the entire space.”

As Noct and Gladio made their way to the barrier separating the ring from the walkway, Prompto said, “Hey, wait, how do you guys fight if you’re reading each other’s minds? Won’t you know what the other person’s gonna do?”

“Come now, what fun would that be? We can shield our thoughts from one another when we wish.” Laura said. “He’s actually getting to the point where he can land a blow on me now and then unless I play unfair and begin to move faster than a human can.”

Noct leaned over the wall next to Prompto, watching as Iggy and Laura moved to the center of the ring with their weapons in hand.

“Would you care to dance with me?” Iggy asked with a crooked smile.

“With pleasure.”

Without another word or sign, they advanced on each other, meeting blade for blade with surprising speed and ferocity for a first attack.

Back in Insomnia, it was common, even required, for younger trainees to use wooden practice swords to spar so opponents wouldn’t accidentally slice each other open. By the time the four of them had left Insomnia, Cor and Clarus were only just beginning to trust them to spar with live weapons, but even then, it wasn’t a common practice to attack with anything but the flat of the blade. It’d been hard—and scary as hell—sparring with Gladio those first few times with live swords, but Noct had grown used to it over these past months.

Iggy and Laura, however, weren’t attacking each other with flats at all.

Laura showed Ignis no mercy, swiping the edge of a falchion across his neck, which might have slit his throat if he hadn’t leaned back in time. Still, from where Noct was standing, she’d come so close that it looked like blood _should’ve_ been pouring from his throat. Iggy twisted to duck under another blow, setting his blades on fire with the flick of the wrists and thrusting at her abdomen, but Laura spun off to his side, stabbing out to bury a falchion tip in his flank.

“Now, now, I’ll not allow you the satisfaction of skewering me alive, woman,” Iggy said with a careless laugh as he danced away. “I didn’t plan for kebabs on the menu tonight.”

“If I intended to make a kebab of you, I’d summon a lance,” she shot back, crouching down to avoid an electric dagger to the shoulder before swiping out a leg to catch Iggy’s feet. Dismissing his blades, he fell into a backhand spring before summoning them again.

Was this what they’d been doing these past couple of months? Brutally attacking each other? Noct totally understood now why Iggy came back from sparring with Laura every morning covered in sweat, but this wasn’t even what he would consider sparring. This was no-holds-barred, flat-out war—vicious, merciless, dangerous as hell, and they were laughing and quipping like they were doing nothing more than hurling toothpicks at each other.

Noct’s breath caught in his throat as Iggy set fire to a dagger, tossing it casually in the air and kicking it—sending it spiraling in a flash of silver and flame right toward Laura’s heart, but Laura spun to the right, dismissing a falchion and catching the flaming blade by the tip.

“You know you can’t butcher and cook meat at the same time, right?” Laura asked before flinging the fiery blade toward Iggy’s head.

Twirling to the side, Iggy held out a casual hand, dismissing the dagger and immediately summoning it back to his hand.

“And what would _you_ know about preparing meat?”

Laura grinned wickedly as he leapt in the air, raising both blades high above his head to stab down at her from both sides, but she slid underneath his feet, dismissing her blades and catching him by the boots to knock him on his face.

“I don’t think you’d want me to answer that in front of the guys, dear.”

Iggy tucked and rolled, jumping up to his feet at the end of the maneuver and re-summoning his weapons to stab an icicle into her chest. Before he could make contact, Laura kicked his hand aside and planted her boot firmly in the dirt, following her momentum through to bring the other leg up to take a swipe to his head. Noct had seen her make this move with Gladio once, and Iggy must’ve too, because he dismissed his blades immediately and grabbed her leg, twisting mercilessly.

Laura landed on the ground hard, blinking up at Iggy as a slow smile, dripping with pride, spread across her face.

“Uh . . . point to Ig,” Prompto muttered as Iggy grabbed a hand to help Laura to her feet.

“She let me win,” Iggy said with a scowl as they made their way to the wall with the rest of them.

“If I’d been human, you’d have won that fair and square. I’m happy to kick your ass in private if it helps you improve, but you can guarantee I’m going to play fair with everyone watching.”

“You guys looked like you were about to slit each other’s guts out!” Prompto exclaimed as he bounced over to Laura.

“One helluva show,” Noct said with a slap to Iggy’s shoulder. “Nice job, Specs. Gonna have to keep an eye on you from now on.”

“Thank you, Noct, but even keeping two eyes on me may not be enough, as I’ve been reliably informed that I possess four,” he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a long finger.

Gladio threw an arm around Laura’s neck and rubbed a rough fist through her hair. “That was some kinda shit, you guys. Whaddya say we get rid of the swords for now and teach the kid some moves?”

“M-me?” Prompto stammered, wincing and rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, guess I better.”

“Round three, it is,” Iggy agreed.

 ***

Noct sat on the edge of the bed between Prompto and Laura, staring at Iggy and Gladio, who were perched on their own bed.

“So . . . do we change into our pajamas or get under the covers, or . . . what?” Prompto asked.

“Guess we just call Umbra and find out,” Laura said with a shrug.

Iggy shook his head and scoffed. “We’re really doing this, and you have absolutely no insight into the process?”

“Oi! It’s not like I don’t have a more natural way of time traveling, you know. Can you blame me for not knowing if I’ve never done it by dog before?”

“Well, there must be _some_ commonality in the experience,” Iggy said with a huff.

“Um, yeah . . . the time traveling part. We’re going to travel in time.”

“All right, shut up, both of you,” Noct interrupted before Specs could come up with some snarky response. It hadn’t taken them long to get back to their arguing thing, it seemed, and Noct wondered if they’d spent the last week locked up in their room bickering about pointless stuff like this.

Holding the amulet Gentiana had given him tightly in his fist, he sighed and said, “Here goes nothing.”

Laura had said the amulet had a strong telepathic link with Umbra, so he guessed talking in his mind was the best way to contact him? Picturing the black and silver dog in his head, he tried to reach out . . . or whatever.

_Uh . . . Umbra? We’d like to go back to Lucis, please._

“Noct,” Gladio said, reaching over the space between them to poke him on the shoulder

“What?” he asked irritably, opening his eyes to glare at him, but a high-pitched whine to his right caught his ear. “Oh.”

“Umbra,” Laura said softly, standing from the bed to kneel in front of the dog. She reached out with both hands and stopped on either side of Umbra’s head just short of contact. “May I?”

Umbra’s mouth fell open, his tongue lolling out as he panted and lips stretching into what almost looked like a smile, and Laura brought her fingertips to rest against the dog’s head.

“What’s she doing?” Prompto leaned over to whisper to Iggy.

Iggy raised an eyebrow as though the answer was obvious. “She appears to be initiating telepathic contact with Umbra.”

“Yeah, I see that. But . . . I thought that was like, a romantic thing only. Is she like . . .”

“Prompto?” Iggy interrupted, an edge to his voice, “If you value your life, I must insist that you stop right there.”

“What’re you doing?” Noct asked as Laura bowed her head, touching her forehead gently to Umbra’s. He whimpered at the contact, and she ran her fingers soothingly down his fluffy black ears.

“Pryna was Umbra’s sister and dearest friend,” Laura said softly. “I’m offering our condolences.”

“Oh,” Noct said as she stood to take her place on the bed again. “Yeah, we’re sorry to hear about Pryna. Um. . . is there anything we can do?”

When the dog made no signs of replying, Noct didn’t really know what else to say besides, “Then, um . . . could you please take us back to Lucis?”

Though Umbra still made no move, Noct felt his eyes grow heavy until he was swallowed in darkness.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also want to acknowledge OS from the FFXV Reddit server again for the amazing help she offered with the scourge pathology. I took it a slightly different way, but she was completely right that there was no way a plasmodium could be responsible for this, no matter how mutated, and that a secondary infection had to be the primary culprit. You can bet there is much more to come on that.


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some rated M NSFW this chapter.  
> Timey-wimey quote courtesy of Doctor Who, of course.

“Weird, this is just . . . weird,” Prompto said, running his hand over the shining black door of the Regalia. “I mean, the Regalia’s on the boat in Altissia right now.”

Noct nodded in agreement, his eyes following Takka through the diner window as the proprietor made his way from a booth back to his counter. “It’s like a dream, but real.”

 _This does feel remarkably like our nights on the bridge,_ Ignis said.

Not being a time sensitive creature, Ignis couldn’t detect whatever it was that was making Laura continuously run her tongue along the roof of her mouth in agitation, but he believed there was something ethereal about the atmosphere, something empty-feeling in the air that made it seem as though he were dreaming.

 _Are you all right?_ he asked when she shook her head violently as though to clear it.

_There’s no continuity here. The braid you gave me this morning is gone. Time feels . . . folded in on itself. We’re our past selves, but also not. Even the Regalia shouldn’t be here. It should be wherever our past selves are right now._

_You didn’t answer my question. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been tense since last night. Are you certain you’re fully recovered?_

_This is nothing to do with me. Really, love, I’m fine._ Her eyes went blank as she stared off to the horizon. _The skin of the universe grows thin here as well, yet differently—faster, affecting time._

 _I don’t understand,_ he admitted.

Shaking her head and looking up at him searchingly, she said, _Nor do I, really. It’s one of those things we just have to wait on and see, but something big is happening both here and back in Altissia._

_So, like every other day, then._

“So, could we like, use Umbra to go back in time and fix . . . everything?” Prompto asked.

“Do you _want_ to destroy the world?” Gladio shot back before nodding at Ignis. “Same reason we had to be careful around little Iggy.”

“I do wish you would stop referring to him as ‘little Iggy,’” Ignis replied with a frown, though he had to admit he had no suitable alternatives for his past-self.

Before Gladio could respond, Laura thankfully spoke up, “It doesn’t matter anyway. I told you the amulet would prevent paradoxes. You do anything drastic, and we’re likely to end up back in Altissia before we break time.”

“Okay, so first thing on our agenda’s the diary, right?” Noct asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll rent the chickens for all of us just in case something happens to the car. Ignis, do you want to check the fuel in the Regalia? Gods only know what the tank is at.”

“Certainly,” he said, reaching out for the keys in his mind, hoping they were in the armiger as they normally would be. When a flash of light brought them to his palm, he let out a quiet breath. With the luck of the gods, things would continue running this smoothly—even if all logical progression of time had been thrown out the window.

“The rest of you can head to the diner, if you want. Find out what day it is, pick up some hunts if you like, and maybe find out if anything significant is going on. It may just be chance that we landed here specifically, but it may not be.”

Laura turned toward the chocobo rental post out by the road while the others ambled toward the diner to do as she suggested, chatting excitedly at the prospect of being home again. With a deep sigh of the air of his homeland, Ignis opened the car door and leaned over the seat, inserting the key to turn on the fuel indicator—a full tank, it would seem.

Shutting the car door and leaning against it, Ignis took a moment in solitude to gaze out at the familiar dry, dusty plains of the Weaverwilds, contemplating just how completely his life had changed since he’d first set eyes on the vast blue sky and the misty mountains on the horizons, how much he himself had changed. Though the bright, hot landscape was familiar in a way that suggested not-quite-home-but-close to Ignis, it seemed somehow too small, too pure to fit the man he’d become. Though he sometimes mourned the loss of his innocence, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret for a moment the lives he’d taken in the name of his homeland, in the name of his brother and king. And with the bitter came the sweet—the camaraderie he’d found in his four friends, the true brotherhood he’d discovered with Noct, the enduring love and unimaginable adventure he’d captured with his wife.

He may have no longer been a child, but Ignis slept with his head pillowed among the stars now. He dreamed of centaurs, supernovas, lost knowledge, and his very own goddess. He had drunk the ambrosia of adventure from the chalice of life, and it was true what they said: one couldn’t go home again—not to find it exactly as one had left it, anyway.

“Hold on! Greedy thing!” he heard Laura laugh, and he turned to see her standing out by the road, an unfamiliar red fruit or vegetable held aloft behind her as she tried to push away Saracchian’s eager, snapping beak.

With a soft smile, Ignis made his way out to the road to join them.

 _Should I be jealous?_ he asked as he approached carefully so as not to startle the bird. Saracchian munched contentedly on his snack with his eyes closed as Laura buried her hand deep into his downy feathers to rub his breastbone.

 _Are you?_ she asked, her tone growing amused.  

“What is this like for you, eh?” she asked Saracchian softly. “Are you dreaming of me now? Or am I dreaming of you?”

_Hardly. He doesn’t get to do this, after all._

Stepping closer to her side, Ignis sent her the sensation of his lips just behind her ear, smirking a little to himself as she shuddered at the touch. He looked up just in time to see Saracchian, who had just finished shredding the chunk of what Ignis assumed to be fruit, shake his head violently, flinging bits of the red, juicy flesh in all directions.

“Eugh!” Laura complained, throwing up a hand to shield herself as Ignis ducked behind her. “Should’ve seen that coming.” When Saracchian reached out again for the other half of the fruit, Laura held it back from him. “Hold on! Ignis gets some too! Here.”

Turning her back to the nosy creature, she quickly peeled back a bit of the bright red skin to detach several juice-packed seeds, which reminded Ignis somewhat of small, ruby-red corn kernels. Once Saracchian had snapped up the rest of the fruit, Laura grazed her free hand down Ignis’s arm, pulling up his hand and placing the seeds carefully in his palm.

“Careful not to pop them, or they’ll stain your gloves. They’re not my favorite, but they’re interesting. Go ahead and try.”

“I’ll admit I wasn’t feeling at all peckish, but all right.” He put his hand to his mouth and tipped his head back, letting the cool, sweet kernels fall on his tongue. They popped in his mouth as he chewed, releasing their bright, tangy, astringent juice and filling his ears with the sound of the grind of his teeth against the hard centers of the seed pouches.

Tilting his head in thought, he said, “These would certainly brighten up a nutty grain, such as a wild rice, or perhaps go well as a sweet, acidic component in a salad. What’s it called?”

“Pomegranate. They’re often used in both those dishes on Earth, but I’ve found they’re one of Saracchian’s favorite treats.”

He reached a careful hand up to stroke the bird’s neck, stepping to the side to avoid the inevitable shower of pomegranate gore. He’d been doubtful when Laura had initially chosen Saracchian, as they hadn’t the time to compensate for a high-strung and delicate-nerved animal on their travels, though he’d kept his opinion to himself at the time. The bird had proven him wrong, however. Though he was still skittish around humans not in their party, he’d proven to be a hardy and courageous mount, eager to protect Laura on their travels and just as dependable as Calima.

 _He really is a magnificent creature,_ he said, running his fingers through the glossy black feathers of Saracchian’s wing, _and to think he may have spent the rest of his life alone in the dark._

Laura summoned a towel to wipe Saracchian’s beak clean, but her eyes shot to his at his words. She seemed to study him for a moment before saying, _Actually, I was just thinking about how little time I’ve spent with him. He doesn’t find as much solace with Wiz as the others do._

_I’ve had similar thoughts of Calima every time I dismount. They do so much for us without any thought of reward, yet we only call on them when we need them._

Laura gave Saracchian a final pat, and the two of them had just begun to walk together to the Crow’s Nest to join the others when she stopped suddenly and turned back to the bird. Reaching up to grasp the straps of his bridle, she pulled his head down to her level.

_Listen to me. If the darkness comes, come find me. Bring your brothers and sisters. If I’m not here, make your way to the City of Light. You’ll be safer there._

_Does he truly understand you?_

Laura shook her head a little as she released her hold on Saracchian’s head. Coming back to Ignis’s side again so they could make their way to the diner together, she said, _I don’t know. Speaking with animals has always been something Lliamérians could do, but the connection is so muted here._

Ignis had only just averted his eyes from the somewhat disconcerting Kenny Crow mascot sitting on the bench just outside the door to the diner when an unfamiliar voice called out behind them.

“I’d always wondered if you two survived that day.”

Turning to face the woman, Ignis recognized her immediately as the one Laura had helped to repair her broken-down vehicle their very first day out of Insomnia.

“Shawna,” Laura greeted, turning to give the pregnant woman a hug as though they were long-lost friends.

“A pleasure to see you again,” he greeted with a nod when she and Laura had separated. “I do hope you’re well.”

“Well enough, given . . . everything,” she replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Cami’s with her grandmother. She’s mentioned you a time or two since that day. She’ll be glad to know you’re all right.”

“And Jason?” Laura asked, but Ignis already knew by her interpretation of the woman’s mind what her answer would be. The man Ignis assumed to be her husband, the Glaive, had likely passed in the attack.

Shawna bit her lip and looked down at the ground, shaking her head, and without another word, Laura pulled her back into her arms.

“Okay, so it’s three days before we left Caem, but there’s nothing major going on as far as we . . .” Noct began as he stepped over the threshold of the diner and onto the stoop, but he halted on catching sight of Ignis standing somewhat awkwardly next to Laura holding a sobbing pregnant woman. “Oh.”

“Your Majesty!” Shawna exclaimed, pulling back from Laura, furiously wiping at her eyes, and dipping her head into a bow. “Forgive me, my hormones have been all over the place lately.”

Seeing Noct at a loss for how to handle himself, Ignis stepped in. “Ms. Shawna—”

 _Her last name is Marian_ , Laura supplied before his hesitation could be made apparent.

“Marian. She happened to be the one responsible for buying us lunch our first day in Leide.”

“Then we should pay her back. What was it, Specs? Five thousand gil?” Noct asked with a slight smile—probably the most genuine expression Ignis had seen on his face since the battle.

“Indeed,” Ignis said, summoning the funds. Laura took them from him and pressed the cash into Shawna’s hands as the woman shook her head in protest.

“I—I— I didn’t give you that much! And it was for your help. I would have never— _we_ would have never seen Jason if it weren’t for . . .,” she paused for a moment, her eyes widening at Noct as she seemed to realize something. “I need you to know—my husband would _never_ betray Lucis. He was faithful to the King.”

“Shawna’s husband Jason was a Glaive in the Fall,” Ignis explained softly at Noct’s blank expression.

“Oh,” Noct said, raising his eyebrows. “Um, well . . . consider it interest and a thank you for helping us that day. And . . ..”

Noct’s expression hardened into firm resolve as he spoke his next words, and in all Ignis’s life, he’d never seen him look so much like his father, not even when making his promises to Talcott.

“We’re gonna get our homes back. And then we’re gonna start making this world a better place—for everyone. Jason Marian won’t be forgotten. We won’t let his death be for nothing.”

Once they’d gracefully extricated themselves from the somewhat difficult conversation, Gladio and Prompto joined them as they walked to the Regalia.

“You did well,” Ignis said as he pulled on the handle to the Regalia.

“Spoken like a true king,” Gladio agreed.

As Noct slid into the back seat, he shut the door roughly behind him and slumped against the window with a sigh. “Yeah? And where did _you_ guys go? You were right behind me!”

“It uh. . . looked like you had things under control,” Prompto said.

Getting comfortable behind the wheel, Ignis took a moment for the nostalgia to settle before turning to the back seat. “To Caem, Highness?”

“Dunno. We picked up a few hunts in the area, but this time thing’s your deal, Laura. What do you think?”

“I’d like to get there by the morning before we left so we have time to put the map in the diary before Prompto brings it up at dinner the night before we leave.”

Gladio turned to look back at Laura, saying, “That leaves us today and part of tomorrow to get down there. We could do these hunts, drop off that stone we got from Costlemark for Dino, and maybe pick up some more assignments in Galdin and Taelpar if we have the time.”

“Sounds good,” Laura agreed. “Depending on how long it takes us to do Pitioss, we might stop by Lestallum and give Vyv those photos of Ravatogh and the haunted painting.”

 _And if it’s all right with you, I’d like to re-visit the Disc tonight when we sleep,_ she added.

 _Of course,_ he replied. _Is there a particular reason for the sudden curiosity?_

“It’ll be no prob to just email them and have him send the cash out with one of his buddies to Verinas or something,” Prompto said.

“We may have to. We need to assume Umbra’s going to take us back after however many days we’ve been here, not necessarily the moment we left Altissia. We don’t want to miss our train.”

_Now that I’ve seen Titan’s rock manipulation capabilities in action, I’m wondering about those arches, that mythril wing, and the fact that it’s located in what was once the Solheimian Empire. And then there’s that meteor and its glowing shards. What is that meteor made of that it’s still burning from piercing through the atmosphere all those years ago?_

“So, the hunts first, then,” Ignis verified.

 _And what else is that material capable of?_ he asked. _You make several good points. Tonight it is._

“Yeah,” Noct said.

 ***

“You’re really, really, REALLY pretty, you know that?” Prompto giggled before taking another indecorous slurp from his wine glass and leaning further into Laura’s side.

Gladio threw his head back, emptying his flask into his awaiting mouth. “Damn,” he muttered, shaking the reptilian leather vessel before replacing the gold cap. “Careful. That’s a married woman you’re talkin’ to.”

“I would say it’s more in poor taste pouring wine on her as you are now,” Ignis remarked, raising an eyebrow at the precarious angle of Prompto’s drink.

Prompto’s attention darted down to his glass, and on seeing the slow drip that was spilling onto Laura’s shorts, he jerked it straight, managing to slosh nearly half the contents into his own lap. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Laura!”

“Think she’s safe. There’s only so much game you can bring when the girl’s got a chicken head in her lap, anyway,” Noct said with a laugh. “Specially if you’re too tipsy to keep your drink in your own glass.”

Ignis looked up from the cards he had spread across the floor of the haven to where Noct was leaned back against Byrrus, his hands resting behind his head as he gazed up at the stars with a dreamy expression. When Gladio had first suggested they break out the wine in celebration of their return to their ‘good old camping days,’ Ignis had resolutely practiced moderation in anticipation of Noct growing morose and brooding. Of course, even if that hadn’t happened, it had been rather fortunate that he’d done so, as Noct and Prompto had ended up in a heated debate over whose boots smelled worse after a day slogging through puddles—which somehow had resulted in the two of them wrestling precariously close to the edge of the haven in an effort to shove one another’s footwear in their faces. Ignis, at least, had consumed just the right amount to find the display more entertaining than disgusting.

But despite the Prince’s seemingly good mood since their return to Lucis, Ignis wasn’t a fool. The moment he’d seen Noct’s eyes tighten at the mention of his relationship status with Rose earlier this afternoon (or was that now considered yesterday?), he understood all too well what was running through the Prince’s mind and had since done his best to maintain a platonic distance from his wife out of respect for Noct’s loss. Of course, all the distance in the world was going to make very little difference if Gladio kept bringing the matter up. He shot Gladio a brief glare of dissatisfaction for his tactlessness before turning to Noct to change the subject.

“Don’t tell me you’ve taken to Laura’s penchant for improperly naming animals. You’ve never even _seen_ a chicken. Or do you merely enjoy egging me on?”

 _He really seems okay, love,_ Laura said, her eyes twinkling in amusement as she leaned her head against Prompto’s. _He’s enjoying this moment—being here with you all._

“Laura’s stuff’s more fun to say, and yeah . . . I kinda like how much it irritates you,” Noct replied with a quirk of his lips.

“Yeah, I’ll take rhinoceros over dualhorn any day,” Prompto agreed. “Wayyyy more fun to say! Rhino-winoceros!”

“Don’t forget zebra—zebra . . . what was it?” Noct asked, looking over to Laura. “The ones with the shoes.”

Ignis had suspected Noct had also imbibed a touch too much this evening, as he didn’t believe Laura’s attempt to rewrite Lucian taxonomy included adding footwear, but she surprised him by answering, “Zebrafalopes, dear.”

“To the zebrafalopes with their fancy red shoes!” he said with a giggle, raising his glass in the air as a toast.

_Dare I ask to which creature you’re referring?_

“You guys are gettin’ dangerously close to bein’ shitfaced,” Gladio groaned. But then he said in a smaller, chuckling voice, “Those catoblepas do kinda look like mopheads though.”

“Personally, bone-icorns are my favorite,” Laura said, raising her own glass in cheers before taking a sip and setting it down in front of her.

She leaned further back against Saracchian, pulling Prompto deeper into her side and gently taking his glass from him. _An arba. Now come on, pour yourself another glass of wine and finish your dinner before someone else does. I have plans for you tonight._

 _Really? And what might those be?_ he asked.

As much as he typically enjoyed his solitude with their connection glowing passively in his mind, reminding him that she was only a thought away, he’d been, well, rather clingy today, as much as he hated to admit it. But she’d been _dead_ , and despite this past week spent snuggling deep inside her mind and slumbering wrapped around her body, he hadn’t quite yet been ready to leave their sanctuary, hadn’t been prepared for just how much it would chafe at his nerves to sit even this far from her and pretend as though he didn’t wish to be entwining his fingers with hers in that very moment. When had he grown so needy? He hoped that nagging sensation ceased soon; he didn’t care for it. As much as he adored Rose, he still valued his independence.

Still, if she were planning something for the two of them tonight, perhaps it would relieve that ache that had nestled in his chest.

“Man, I kinda missed this,” Gladio said in a low voice as he stared at the white-hot ash and blackened wood flickering in the shrinking orange flames.

“Yeah, who woulda thought I’d miss sleeping in a tent with your snoring, smelly ass?” Noct laughed.

 _Yes, it’ll pass. But I’ve missed you today, too. So I was thinking . . . a life adventure tonight,_ she answered mysteriously.

Ignis raised his eyes to the canopy of Duscaean pines above, where he could just make out the black sky and a spattering of stars between the swaying branches. They couldn’t leave the haven in his current condition. Though he had reasonable control of his faculties, that burning glow rising from his belly to his cheeks was enough evidence that he was in no shape to be out in the wild after nightfall; it would be folly even with her protection. And then there was Noct to consider should they stay here at the haven.

_I won’t torment him with our relationship, no matter how much I miss you._

_And **you** should know by now that the very foundation of our relationship is to allow you the very best of both worlds. Now as I said, pour yourself another glass, get yourself reasonably soused, and defend your dinner from the invading hordes._

Ignis eyed his plate just in time to gently swat Calima’s outstretched beak from snapping up the last of his creamy milk risotto and sautéed greens.

“Oi! Foul fowl, pilfering my dinner! Have you been unlearning your manners as a result of Kaze’s influence?”

“Oi?” Noct asked, raising his head to stare incredulously. “Did you just say . . . _oi_?”

Ignis sniffed, perhaps somewhat haughtily, and poured himself another glass of wine, enjoying the aesthetic of the light from the fire setting the burgundy liquid aglow as it splashed into the bottom of the glass. The bottle almost seemed to gurgle happily as he continued to pour.

Perhaps he _had_ drunk just enough to erode that filter he always seemed to require for that mouth of his. “And so what if I did?” he challenged.

“Been hanging around Laura way too long, sounds like,” Gladio said as he stood and, after a pat to Kaze’s giant blue head, pointed a thumb to the tent. “Anyway, I’m kinda wiped after all that sparring today, or yesterday, or whatever—specially after the hunts. Gonna pass out.”

After they all bade him goodnight, Prompto looked up from his phone to say, “Yeah, why _do_ you guys have the same accent anyway? I mean, you aren’t even from the same planets.”

“Lots of planets have a Britain,” Laura said with that secret, lopsided smile on her face and that sparkle in her eyes. “It’s a big universe. Everything happens somewhere. Call it a coincidence. Call it an idea echoing among the stars.”

And what a coincidence _that_ had been. One of the first adventures Rose had taken him on had been to several cities and counties in what she’d considered her home country—Surrey, Cambridge, Oxford, London . . . the people of which sounded and acted remarkably like him, displaying almost proudly that ‘British stiff upper lip,’ as Rose had called it. The moment he’d accidentally jostled someone on the street, had turned to beg their pardon, and heard an almost identical “I beg your pardon” in return, he knew he had, oddly enough, on an entirely different planet and in an entirely different universe, found his people. It hardly mattered at all that the person in question was literally a figment of Laura’s imagination.

Without removing his eyes from his phone screen, Prompto slid further down so his head was resting in Laura’s lap. She looked down at him, a fond smile spreading over her lips before her expression suddenly fell to a frown.

“Why don’t you let me take that for now?” she asked, pulling the phone out of his rapidly darting thumbs.

“No! I was workin’ on somethin’ REALLY important!” he protested, reaching out for the phone, but she dismissed it to her Pocket before his fingers could close around it.

“Yeah, I know, and now’s not the time for working. Now’s the time for relaxing! You’ll probably have a different outlook on it tomorrow, anyway.”

“Whatcha workin’ on?” Noct asked.

Prompto sat up suddenly, nearly smacking Laura in the chin with his head as he scrambled to look over at Noct. “I was texting Cor. See? I got this totally failproof plan for the next time he busts a base, and he’s gotta get the word out ASAP! And it’ll be totally fun for the Glaives to do, like a game!”

“And what is this game plan?” Ignis asked suspiciously.

“A distraction! See? You get like, four or five Glaives in a car, and when they drive up to the front, they all pull their pants down and hang their asses out the window! BAM. Everyone’s distracted.”

“And then you send in a squad from the rear, I imagine,” Ignis said, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I can see how that would be a plan anyone would be mooning over.”

 _Thank you,_ he said. _The last thing we need is for the Marshal to get wind of the fact that we’re all intoxicated and butting heads out here._

_I told you—I’ve got you covered. You just sit back, relax, and act your age for once._

_And what, precisely, are you implying by that statement?_ he demanded, but she knew he was merely feigning ignorance. Though he had no desire to truly behave in the manner that Noct and especially Prompto were, she knew he was capable of finding his own fun when he allowed his head to go warm and fuzzy with drink. His thoughts lingering sadly on the idea that she couldn’t truly become inebriated along with him, he said, _I don’t want to leave you out._

_The price I pay for superior physiology. Trust me. I’ll be having my own brand of fun._

“You remember that one time you pissed off that nagarani just cause you wanted to know what it felt like to be a toad?” Prompto giggled.

“Toadally worth it though!” Noct said, wiping tears from his eyes as he laughed. “Not like you weren’t right there to give me the maiden’s kiss.”

“Well, that’s not suggestive at all,” Laura mumbled.

Ignis took a sizeable draught of the dry, woody wine; he had a feeling he was going to need it for this conversation. “And where, may I ask, was I for this little experience?”

Noct yawned lazily before replying, “Busy. It was when all those red giants popped out of the ground in Costlemark and Laura was nerding out over the circles in the floor.”

“Excuse me? Nerding out? I found an anomaly in time and space just casually set into the floor of some ancient ruins. You think I’m just going to ignore that? And I bet that one was connected to the first one we saw at the entrance—only I couldn’t find out because _someone_ wouldn’t let me try it.”

“The very fact that you followed my advice and abstained proves you were in no shape to handle the consequences, woman,” Ignis shot back.

“Oh ho! Iggy’s layin’ down the law! Get your woman under control! Crack that whip! _Wha-chew!_ ” Prompto said, making the motion of cracking a whip with his fist at Laura.

Ignis leaned forward, placing his palm on Prompto’s forehead and pushing him back into Laura’s side. “That’s quite enough from you, thank you.”

“Hey!” Prompto protested as he unsuccessfully attempted to pull himself from Laura’s lap and upright again.

“Gotta say, Specky,” Noct said, shaking his head, “you sure have changed.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Yeah,” he said with a warm smile, reaching over to push his shoulder. His bright blue eyes shot to Laura briefly before focusing back on him. “I like it. Keep it up.”

Several glasses of wine and a rather horrifying game of _Would You Rather?_ later, and Noct and Prompto were heading to the tent, citing their need to get to bed before midnight, as Ignis would no doubt have them up at the ‘butt crack of dawn,’ which he intended to.

“Be sure to put your laundry outside the tent so I can take care of it later,” he called back to them.

Noct spun around, nearly stumbling over as he gave a sloppy two-fingered salute. “You got it, Sergeant Specs.”

“I should think I would’ve earned a promotion by now,” he teased, inclining his head to give Noct a stern look.

Noct raised his eyebrows as his lips parted in surprise. “You really took that seriously? You’re already Grand Chamberlain to the King. Whaddya need a military rank for?”

“Perhaps I’m simply waiting for the day I outgrow my moniker,” he replied, but he let his eyes grow soft and his smile warm at his words.

“Never,” Noct laughed. “Night, Specs. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“Night, you guys! Remember, tomorrow we start Operation Moon Base!” Prompto said, punching a fist in the air in triumph before ducking under the tent flap.

“Wait,” Laura said when they’d zipped the tent closed, “’Specs’ isn’t because of your glasses?”

“A rather clever appellation given to me in our youth—referring to both my glasses and my first rank in the Crownsguard. He was so pleased with himself that the nickname stuck despite several promotions.”

“Specialist.”

“Indeed.”

It grew quiet—he could hear nothing but the chirping of insects and that subtle psithurism that reminded him of Lliaméra as he let his head loll back against Calima’s saddle to gaze up at the teasing peeks of stars through the canopy. That warm, sharp tang of leather mixed with the scent of bird and smoke of the campfire, creating a heady aroma that reminded him of good times. Laura’s thread was glimmering behind his eyes, intensifying the slow, syrupy ooze of his thoughts and that incandescent filament glowing in his chest as he smiled like a fool up at the sky.

She slowly got to her feet and stood over him, the light in her lapis eyes reminiscent of the phosphorescent inner light of her other body in a way that made his blood sing with remembered arousal. Already, he missed that body—the novelty of it, the way it highlighted that he truly had married divinity. But this human body of hers was nearly as ethereal and certainly as enticing. Were her plans for him of a carnal nature this evening? He couldn’t see how, trapped on the haven as they were, and he had to admit he felt somewhat guilty for even thinking of wanting her so soon after the day he’d spent filling her with seed and pleasure.

Brushing aside his lewd thoughts, he gave her a slow, half-lidded grin as he said, _Well? It appears as though I’m all yours for the evening, though I do have some chores to complete. What did you have in mind?_

 _Frack the chores. Let me do them later. Come with me,_ she said, holding out a hand.

The wine must have gone to his head more than he’d originally believed, as his equilibrium faltered when she pulled him to his feet, and he gripped her shoulders to steady himself. Taking his hand and wrapping his arm around her shoulders with a sparkling, wicked smile, she led him away from the tent and past the fire. He only hesitated for a moment when they stepped off the safety of the haven runes and onto the packed dirt of the forest path, as she immediately headed in the direction of the Regalia, parked under the safety of the daemon-repelling lights. Terrible shape though he was in, he trusted that _she,_ at least, could take on anything that would appear in those five hundred feet, unlikely though for such an event to occur in such a short distance.

“Get in there,” she said when they had unlocked the Regalia and opened the back door. He stumbled a bit as she both pushed him into the back seat and held a hand against his head so he wouldn’t hit it against the roof of the car as he fell. He had only just scrambled to the middle of the seat and pulled himself into a sitting position when Laura crawled in after him, shutting the door behind her and nearly leaping into his lap.

“Ignis,” she whispered, wrapping her fingers around his jaw and leaning down for a frantic kiss, biting at his lips as she pressed forcefully against his mouth.

“Mmmf,” was all he could manage in response, but he had at least enough dexterity left in him to bring one hand up to remove the clip from her hair and one hand down the back of her shorts to grab a handful of flesh. His muddled thoughts eventually caught up to the state in which he’d suddenly found himself, and he reluctantly ripped his lips from hers. “Rose, we can’t, not here,” he protested feebly. A weak argument, to be certain, as she could likely feel how much he wanted her right now—in his mind as well as thickening between her legs at this very moment.

“Why not here?” she asked between breathy bites from his chin up the line of his jaw—taking advantage of what she knew were his weaknesses when he was already in a vulnerable state.

“To say that this is inappropriate would be an understatement,” he inhaled and fisted the hand in her hair as she found that spot below his ear. “The King himself once sat in this very seat.”

Laura sat back on his lap, rocking a little against his erection as she locked eyes with him. “It’s a rite of passage, yeah?” she said, reaching up to take his hand from the back of her neck and guiding it up her shirt. “A few drinks and a good tumble in the back seat of a car.”

He let his head fall back when his palm met her warm, velvety breast, and he lifted his hand to skim the very tips of his sensitive fingers around the curve of her soft skin. When she closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh, his hands grew a fraction more insistent, tightening and relaxing into the two handfuls of flesh as she continued her grinding assault, sending bolts of that delicious ache down to his toes.

“Somehow I doubt this rite of passage of yours included the royal vehicle,” he said with a chuckle—and likely a somewhat dopey smile. The air was rapidly growing sultry with their shared panting breaths, frosting the windows with fog and saturating the air with that pine-kithairon essence that, due to operant conditioning, was already affecting him in a way that made his jaw clench against a wave of potent desire. The conflict plucking at his thoughts was beginning to grow hazier, resolving itself into ruminations on precisely how many times he could get her to cry out his name without getting anything on the seats.

Inappropriate though this was, he felt _good_ with the threads of her hair tickling the back of his arm, one handful of firm muscle, another of tantalizingly soft womanhood, and the scent of her thickening the air and making him throb against her inner thighs.

“You _do_ have the most superior physiology I’ve ever seen, woman,” he said, giggling a little at his own joke. “But I had you an ungodly number of times just yesterday. Are you certain you’re up for this?”

“Well, it was more like two days ago. Besides,” she said, swiveling her hips against him with a puff of exhalation, “that was practically a different body.”

He was beginning to run out of excuses. Of course, there was still the argument that youths of Insomnia were probably more likely to take public transportation than to own a vehicle for this sort of liaison, thus derailing her ‘rite of passage’ argument, but she would likely dismiss the idea as logical nonsense and continue accosting him in the King’s vehicle anyway.

And by the gods, he was going to allow it.

***

After packing up far too early in the morning for everyone’s liking, leaving Oathe, and taking on a rather difficult hunt of three ‘old electra-kitties,’ they arrived at Cape Caem that afternoon—the day before they departed.

“We’re cutting this closer than I’d like,” Laura muttered as she stepped out of the back seat.

“So where are we?” Prompto asked.

“Has the day shocked your system so terribly?” Ignis asked him with a smirk. “We’re in Caem.”

“I like it here,” Noct said on a sigh. “Feels kinda like home.”

“No, I mean, like . . . the other us,” Prompto said, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

That was actually a good question. While Ignis was aware of their general itinerary that day, he didn’t quite recall where their past selves were in that precise moment.

 _I have us covered on that, I think,_ Laura said, squinting up the hill as they walked. _This whole strange process has left me with just enough awareness of the original timeline as it’s supposed to be._

Gladio snorted, looking over at him in disbelief and shaking his head. “Looks like your brain’s fried too. How the hell is this place anything like the Crown City?”

“No, I mean, it feels homey. I dunno, never mind,” Noct mumbled, turning his head away as they walked up the sandy path.

Ignis frowned over at the Prince. “There is something rather peaceful about the place,” he agreed. “The salty air, the fresh seafood, and seeing the sea itself is quite invigorating.”

“Yeah,” Noct sighed again.

“Okay, Gladio, I think you’ve just left Talcott and Iris in Talcott’s bedroom under the guise of checking on dinnertime,” Laura said. “Prompto, you’re still down by the boat with Cindy, Noct is upstairs, and Ignis and I are in the kitchen.”

“We gonna run into trouble with that?” Gladio asked.

“We shouldn’t. The amulet is supposed to erase awareness of our past selves. Things might get weird if you expect someone to interact with you and past you at the same time, so let’s avoid that, shall we?”

Ignis didn’t hear any sound coming from the kitchen as they entered the main room of the Caem house. He was sorely tempted to walk over to peer behind the island of cabinets, convinced that his Intuition, or perhaps his bond to a time-sensitive being, would provide him with some sort of extra-sensory ability to perceive his past self standing in the very same room. As it was, he couldn’t detect even a hint of movement in the space between the hanging cabinets and the counter.

 _You wouldn’t be able to. I myself can barely feel them,_ Laura said.

And catching sight of her tightened eyes, Ignis decided that it was probably for the best. That day had hardly been an exemplary example of their relationship—and merely a vanguard for his mistakes to come, apparently.

 _The past is behind us, Ignis,_ she reminded him as they strolled down the hall to Talcott’s room. _Let it go._

_Normally, it would be less of a problem if the past weren’t literally right behind us . . . in the next room._

“Gladdy? What’s gotten into you?” Iris asked as Gladio swooped into Talcott’s room, scooped Iris off the edge of the bed, and squeezed her tightly as he planted a loud kiss on her cheek.

“Just good to be here. Hey, Talcott,” Gladio crowed as set Iris down and rubbed the boy’s hair. “Whatcha up to, little man?”

“Um, well, you were here for the cactuars,” Talcott said, looking up at him in confusion. “I was just gonna show Iris the dagger Mr. Scientia gave me! Uncle Dustin promised he would show me how to use it.”

“Very good,” Ignis said with a nod. “You’ll be well off indeed, receiving instruction from both Monica and Dustin. But tell us, would you mind if we took a look at your grandfather’s diary for a moment?”

Talcott smiled up at him, his grey eyes lighting up at the prospect of being able to help, and Ignis’s lips quirked in response to the boy’s enthusiasm.

“Sure! Uncle Dustin was just using it for some research, so it’s on the bookshelf just inside the front door. Help yourself.”

“Thank you.”

“You guys go check it out,” Gladio said as he sat on the edge of Talcott’s bed. “Gonna stay and chat a sec.”

“All right, Ignis and I have to . . . get back to making dinner. Should be ready soon,” Laura said, giving Iris a little wave before bending down to kiss Talcott on the cheek.

“I gotcha,” Gladio said.

Heading back out to the dining room, Laura led the rest of them to the bookshelf by the front door. Distracted as he was by the prospect that he was walking in the very room that his past self was currently cooking in, he didn’t notice when Rose had picked the book up from the bright red trunk sitting on the shelf, but he certainly discerned the change in her mind as she began reading.

He couldn’t help that quick prick of jealousy as she flipped rapidly through the pages, allowing the text and images to wash over her much as she did in combat—only this time, her subconscious mind was storing the information for later perusal. Would that he could’ve spent the last two decades of his life learning so effortlessly, but there was no sense dwelling on the limitations of his species. Perhaps they could spend a few winter’s nights in front of the fire at Therinal as he read through the diary himself.

When she’d reached the last page, he asked, _Well?_

_He was a brilliant researcher, of course—like you._

“You guys are gonna have to be more subtle than that,” Prompto interrupted. “We know exactly what you’re doing now, you know.”

“Says the creator of Operation Moon Base,” Laura muttered, flipping back to the first page.

Prompto looked to the ceiling and closed his eyes. “Ohhhh gods, don’t remind me!”

“So’s it in there?” Noct asked.

Laura shook her head. “No. Ignis is going to have to put it in there. There was a curl of a letter in the bottom righthand corner of the photo from Jared’s handwriting—could belong to a C, G, O, or Q, judging by the style of his letters. The way the drawing’s on a margin like that leaves us with four possible pages.”

“But which of the four is the correct page?” Ignis asked, tilting his head and leaning in so he could get a better look at the page she had opened the book to.

“It doesn’t really matter. As long as the photo matches up . . .. And even if it didn’t, the paradox would be small enough for the world to compensate as long as it still led us to the same place. The causal nexus would remain intact.”

Walking over to the table, Laura set the book down and pointed to a spot on the open page, just above where the capital C in ‘Cauthess’ was written as the first word in a line.

“There,” she said, summoning a pen and holding it out to him.

“But I don’t know where Pitioss is any more than I did all those weeks ago,” he argued as he took the pen from her.

“Of course you do,” she said with a furrowed brow. “Didn’t you send a copy of the photo to your email? You should have it right there on your phone.”

“But I can’t take the knowledge from myself in the past. The information would have no origin point.”

But then again, what did he know? For all his recent experience in dealing with time and the consequences of knowledge, he was still an inexperienced child in the matter.

 _Apologies,_ he said. _I realize I’m not an expert in such matters, but it seemed to me that it would be some sort of temporal logical error._

Laura’s lips parted in shock as she stared at him, her mind filling with an admiration he couldn’t understand the source of.

 _I wonder what you would have become had you been the one born into my position,_ she said in awe. _My species may give me an advantage, but in terms of raw intelligence, you’re so much smarter than I could ever be._

Before he could feel embarrassed, flattered, or proud of her compliment, she said, “It’s a type of temporal logical error—a circular paradox in the causal nexus. We never truly learn where the ruins are—just keep getting the information from ourselves in the past. Fortunately, this classification of paradox isn’t the world-ending kind, as the causal nexus isn’t broken. It’s the time loop itself that has the potential to be a paradox if we didn’t complete it.”

“Um, what?” Prompto asked, his face scrunching in confusion.

“Don’t bother,” Noct muttered. “Just smile and nod.”

“I can make it easier to understand. You see, people assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually, from a nonlinear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey . . . stuff.”

“Yeah, that clears that _right_ up,” Prompto said after a moment of silence.

Understanding the concept and needing no further explanation, Ignis ran a gloved finger up the glowing red wood of the pen Laura had given him, admiring the golden metal swirls that vaguely reminded him of the flooring at Therinal.

 _This is exquisite craftsmanship,_ he said, unscrewing the cap to reveal the engraved mythril nib. _And it fits my hand perfectly._

_Of course it does; it’s yours. That shimmer in the ink—only one place to get that kind of ink, and that’s in Palomia. Therinal gave me the wood, and, well . . . you already know how familiar I am with the shape of your lovely hands._

Ducking his head, he changed the subject by pointing to the corner of the page. “Here?”

_Thank you for such an elegant gift, but you must cease showering me with all this extravagant largesse._

_Stars, no. I enjoy spoiling you too much, as you do for me._

When she nodded, he pulled out his phone and began copying the image as exactly as he could, admiring the way the nib perfectly distributed the iridescent black ink onto the page without so much as a blot.

As he continued to work, Prompto said, “And Talcott isn’t gonna remember us asking about the book when our past selves bring it up at dinner soon?”

Laura shook her head. “Not really. If he remembers it at all, he’ll wonder whether or not it was a dream he was misremembering.”

 _Time loop completed,_ she said when he’d finished his drawing and turned the book for her to inspect. _Excellent job._

Ignis let out a long, quiet breath, the previously unnoticed weight lifting off his shoulders at her words. This entire situation had been holding him down since he’d learned of it on the boat—first with the apprehension of being forced to travel in time yet again, then the responsibility of having to live through the prophecy of his own possible death in order to complete it, and finally the prospect of having to make the journey and draw the map after Rose’s death. That they’d all made it through the trials they’d found in Altissia to accomplish this was an enormous relief, to say the least, one that allowed him to breathe freely for the first time in weeks.

 _Me too,_ Laura admitted. _The origin of that ink was really bothering me, but it’s over now, and everything is okay._ With a deep sigh, she added aloud, “Well, our work here is done. Let’s get Gladio and head out before everyone starts coming in here for dinner.”

“Cool,” Noct said as Prompto rushed to the hall to get Gladio. “Think we can make it to Verinas by tonight?”

“I believe I can find the drive within me to make it that far,” Ignis replied. “But then I imagine the rest of the journey will need to be made on the back of a chocobo.”

“If they can make it over that rocky terrain,” Laura said. “With any luck, we’ll get to Pitioss by tomorrow.”


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief vomiting scene in the 2D part.

“Awww, man,” Prompto complained, “why’re all these places only open at night?”

Though Ignis could no longer see the small boulder that had passed beyond the cone of illumination his travel light provided, if he concentrated, he could hear the echo of his muffled footsteps in the dirt bouncing off the surface and returning to his ears.

Stepping confidently over the invisible rock, Ignis said, “Because it would seem that Solheim took a shine to the idea of using solar power to light its facilities, closing to collect the energy during the day in Costlemark and powering up all buildings at night.”

Pitioss, as it turned out, was a primitive block of rough-hewn, mismatched stone of an architectural style Ignis had never seen, but upon arriving late that afternoon after a strenuous journey on chocobo-back, they were greeted with the all-too-familiar Solheimian circle switch and no way to get in. It hadn’t involved too much deducing to assume that the ruins were meant to be entered at night after their experiences with Steyliff and Costlemark. A meal and a respite later, they found themselves traversing the dark, dusty path back to the ruins, their steps lighted only by their travel lamps and the glow of the moon bouncing eerily off the black dirt and cliff faces, transforming the scene into a dead and otherworldly planet.

“Just think, we still gotta get back to civilization after this,” Gladio teased.

“Nooooo,” Noct groaned. “I wish we had a ship—one of those Magitek Engines would be nice right about now.”

“Yeah,” Prompto said. “That runway makes it pretty clear we were supposed to get here in a ship. We’re like, out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Nothin’ like nature in the middle of nowhere,” Gladio said on a sigh as he raised his eyes to the sky. “It’s nice bein’ in the quiet again.”

“But it’s too quiet,” Noct said.

Prompto stumbled, his toes either catching on one of the numerous rocks that littered the sandy path or, quite possibly, the tip of his own boot. “And too dark,” he complained as he caught his balance, his arms flailing in overdramatic arcs. “Why’s the sky gotta go so black at night? The stars are cool and all, but I kinda miss Insomnia’s light sometimes.”

It was true there was something about the way the lights from the city—any large city, apparently, not just one with a Wall—would reach for the sky, only to be reflected back down to the streets below in a purplish light rivaled by only the lights of the buildings themselves. Though Ignis certainly missed the culture, the amenities, and the ability to stay clean that went hand-in-hand with city life, he could honestly say the sky of Insomnia was not something he had for even a moment felt homesick for. He’d always felt trapped under that dome, even if he’d never given a name to that niggling disquiet until he left the city. It wasn’t until that stifling blanket had been lifted from over his head that he’d finally acknowledged his dislike for that which he hadn’t been able to change.

He hadn’t realized at the time just how completely his soul had been freed that first night, with Rose gazing up at him in wonder as he’d first discovered the beauty that was night sky. But tonight, he could feel that wonder and joie de vivre effervescing in her chest as though it were his own.

“How can you not love this?” she asked incredulously, beaming up at the stars dangling over their heads. “Just look at the sky. It's not dark and black and without character. The black is, in fact deep blue.”

Turning her head off to the left, she pointed and continued in a soft voice laced with adventurous euphoria, “And over there—lighter blue—and blowing through the blues and blackness, the winds swirling through the air and then shining, burning, bursting through—the stars! And you see how they roar their light.”

Ignis smiled a little to himself as Rose repeated the words of the famous Earth painter. She seemed to do that far more often than the others realized, but the authenticity in her voice and the accompanying emotion had long ago proven to Ignis that she never quoted such fine beings without due reverence and remembrance. Listening to Vincent van Gogh’s words as he gazed up at the sky, the ghost of the image _Starry Night_ overlaying the scene he was seeing in reality, he saw the world as the painter had for the briefest of moments—the aura of the subtlest of colors glowing bright against that blue velvet backdrop in swirling whorls that reminded him of the eddying currents of wind.

“Everywhere we look,” her voice growing even softer with awe as Ignis did his best to read her no-doubt sparkling expression in the dim moonlight, “the complex magic of nature blazes before our eyes.”

“Yeah,” Noct said quietly as they reached the stairs to the dark square building looming above them. “It’s pretty magical, all right.”

“Dunno how you always got the energy to make everything so gods damn miraculous, Princess,” Gladio said.

As they jogged up the last flight of worn steps, past the barred fence half-eaten away by rust and time, and between the high block walls, Ignis was able to make out the glow emanating from the gold plate from around the corner. The bright white aura radiating from the circular rune that Ignis had come to associate with Solheim lit up the stone courtyard, giving everyone’s wide-eyed faces an eerie, ghostlike appearance as they approached.

 _You know,_ Laura said as they halted in front of the illuminated rune, _I can’t read it, but these symbols and the ones on the havens have always appeared almost proto-_[ _Gallifreyan_](http://orig03.deviantart.net/e3d6/f/2011/156/8/5/the_doctor__s_name_by_sculcuvant-d3i372o.jpg) _to me._  

_The language of the Time Lords? Do you think it’s significant? And does that mean the runes at the havens are Solheimian in origin as well?_

_Just an observation; I don’t know if it means anything. From the looks of it, I’d say the_ [ _havens_ ](https://i.imgur.com/1VwwrHg.png) _and those_ [ _locked doors_ ](https://i.imgur.com/cWCTg2S.png) _we keep finding in the dungeons have Solheimian script all over them, even if they weren’t necessarily written by Solheim. I thought you spoke Solheimian?_

_I speak it, yes, but the graphemes used in my education were Lucian._

Laura gave a little snort before replying, _So you learned ancient Solheimian in a Lucian classroom with a combination of Japanese, Anglo-Saxon, and Latin characters while speaking English. Well, that’s enough to do anyone’s head in._

_The formal and informal scripts of Lucian do tend to make everything that much more complicated, yes._

Noct stepped up to the marking and held out a hand just shy of touching the very center. “Well, here goes nothing.”

The moment his fingers made contact, Ignis took a step to the side, widening his stance as the floor shuddered and groaned beneath them. The stale, ancient-tasting air rushed up to greet him, and he stretched out his senses as he felt Laura do the same. But he had to take a staggering step back at the vast nebula of golden power that washed over him, dwarfing even Laura’s vibrant golden aura. He closed his sense immediately, overwhelmed by the sensation, and it was only then that he could turn his full attention to her mind, frozen in overstimulation by whatever she was capable of perceiving beyond his human abilities.

“What’s the matter with you guys?” Noct asked as the floor jerked to a halt with a puff of dusty air that made Gladio sneeze.

“I’m fine,” Ignis replied. “Nothing warranting royal attention.” _Rose?_

When she didn’t answer his or Noct’s query, Ignis strode to the other side of the platform to where she was bent over, her head gripped between both hands. Crouching so he could see her expression, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder but withdrew immediately when she flinched at his touch.

_Am I burning you? Is Eos?_

“Just . . . give me a second to get used to this,” she managed through gritted teeth. _You aren’t, and she isn’t any more than she can help. Really, I’ll be okay. I just need to adjust._

“Take your time,” he replied aloud for the others’ sakes. “I didn’t feel any daemons nearby when I checked.”

“Well that’s something at least,” Noct muttered.

“Yeah, maybe this’ll be easy for once,” Prompto said as he shifted from foot to foot, but as he spoke, he nervously eyed the silent blocks of flaming spikes gliding from the ceiling to the floor in perpetual motion.

It took Laura nearly five minutes of deep breathing before her thoughts seemed to unlock, and she straightened with a deep breath. “I’m all right—really. Just . . . this is gonna be one helluvan experience.”

“Enough with the cryptic shit,” Gladio said as Laura led them beneath the spiked blocks and up the ramp. “Whaddya mean by that?”

“Time and space are both warped here. I don’t know how yet, but I have a feeling we’ll be well familiar with that by the time we get out of here.”

“Great!” Prompto said sarcastically. “Just what we need—another near-death experience!”

 _Time and space have been manipulated here?_ Ignis asked. _Is it possible that Solheim was a proto-Gallifreyan civilization?_

_Time Lords were pan-dimensionally centric, meaning that they existed in one universe, but their planet Gallifrey was a bridge to all universes before they went all but extinct. If Solheimians had interdimensional technology, I’d say it’s definitely possible that some escaped Ifrit’s wrath to another universe and eventually started the Time Lord civilization._

Ignis hesitated as they came to a halt in a vast, dimly lit room, the logical progression of his thoughts filling him with apprehension and keeping him from truly taking in the scene in front of him. There was very little in all the universes that could shake his faith in Rose’s devotion to him these days. They’d endured far too much together, after all—especially the events in Altissia. And while he didn’t _believe_ she would leave him for this, the fact that there was an inkling of doubt in his mind was unsettling. Still, it was only fair to bring his observations up despite his reservations, as she’d always done the same for him.

 _Perhaps, if we found evidence of such technology,_ he said reluctantly, _you could use it to return to the Doctor._

Laura’s instant, wordless denial immediately eased that coil of tension that had tightened in his belly. After checking to ensure that everyone else was too preoccupied with analyzing the room, she sidestepped toward him and took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

_I’m all yours. Don’t think what you’re thinking for even a second._

“So, what’re we s’posed to be lookin’ at?” Noct asked.

Ignis had already analyzed the basics of the [vast room](https://i.imgur.com/M3f4Fka.png) subconsciously, but at Noct’s query, he inspected his surroundings more closely, cross-referencing the statues and symbols with what he knew from the Cosmogony. Though Ignis had always held a healthy respect for the gods and had considered himself an acolyte of Shiva until all had been revealed of his experience with Rose, he’d only really studied the Six enough to engage in conversation should the topic arise. As such, he couldn’t be certain of his initial conclusions to the point where he could present them as fact.

Knowing that Noct and the others would find his ‘history thing’ dull regardless, he decided instead to share his thoughts solely with Laura. _I do wish I had taken that painting in the throne room more literally,_ he said in frustration. _I would have studied religion far more extensively than I have. This appears to be a puzzle room of sorts instead of a test of combat as it normally is, as I didn’t detect any sign of scourge when I checked. Am I correct?_

_Yes, you are. I don’t feel any scourge here at all, but I’d certainly like to get samples of that inky, black_ [ _waterfall_ ](https://i.imgur.com/Z7yFTt5.png) _over there. A representation of the scourge? Something that became the scourge? This may be some sort of story explaining the history of the gods. Perhaps the ‘shame of the Six’ is that they were the source of the Starscourge._

_All right, then let us begin—the golden power of Eos, the Solheimian symbol for immortality on the door over there, as we’ve always seen . . .._

[_Ifrit in a cage_](https://i.imgur.com/Autpwxb.png) _?_ she asked, nodding to the massive, horned statue crouched behind a room of the same ebony and gold bars that often blocked their path in places like Steyliff and Costlemark.

 _Yes, I’ve seen depictions of Ifrit as such. And this fellow barring our way forward is likely his jailer,_ he said, nodding to the giant statue holding a hand against the doorframe. _As he doesn’t resemble the Draconian in any fashion I’m familiar with, I’d hazard a guess to say that he is the Archaean._

_So, the Archaean is holding Ifrit prisoner. Why?_

_And why are those insects flying in formation? What do they represent?_ he asked.

Laura squinted into the dim at the bioluminescent creatures fluttering eerily in the spotlight shining on Titan. [_Dragonflies_](https://i.imgur.com/nsBqgqC.png) _,_ she said. _They look a little like DNA flying in a perfect line like that. The building blocks of life?_

Ignis’s pulse jumped in his throat as his excitement peaked at the implications of their analysis, and Laura’s thrill of discovery was doing little to calm him as they both opened their minds more completely so that they could more quickly share their thoughts, images, and conclusions.

 _So would this place represent the source of all life? Light and dark,_ he said, nodding at the glowing purple-and-blue dragonflies as well as the black void of the waterfall, _then this place would be_ _the Great Beyond._

_Blue, purple, and black—the colors of the Crystal, the colors of the aura in the Crystal space. You may be right. This may represent the womb of Eos—home to the Six and the source of all life._

_So how do we proceed? I imagine it has something to do with—_

“Come on, you two, seriously,” Gladio interrupted, rolling his eyes.

Ignis blinked, pulled suddenly out of his train of thought and back to reality to find the other three staring at the two of them.

“Apologies,” Ignis said with a nod, but he raised his chin and crossed his arms in defense. “It’s just that you all have a tendency to express your displeasure at our ‘nerding out,’ as you call it.”

“So . . . it’s like a puzzle, right?” Prompto asked as his eyes darted around the room. “We gotta figure out a way to let that guy outta the cage so we can hit that switch. Bet it opens the door.”

Ignis shot him a quizzical look. “And how the bloody hell did you work that out?”

Prompto shrugged and smiled sheepishly, saying, “I dunno. It’s kinda like a video game, isn’t it?”

“Even I had that much figured out, Specs,” Noct laughed. “Bet it has something to do with those huge cannonballs and those switches. What’ve you two been doing this whole time? Analyzing the architecture?”

“As a matter of fact, . . .” Ignis grumbled under his breath, but he continued in a louder voice, “It’s no matter. We’ll let you know if it becomes relevant. Let us search for a way to free our Infernian friend.”

It took nearly an hour of exploring the room, taking detailed pictures, and collecting samples from the dark waterfall before they decided that the secrets to releasing the prisoner must have lain in the dark corridor behind the sliding block wall in the far corner. It didn’t take long for the five of them to realize that though there were no daemons or wild creatures to tear them to shreds as they’d so often encountered in these dark, stony ruins, this place was not without its perils. Grateful for his years of experience in gymnastics and yoga, Ignis stuck close to Noct, ready to catch him each time he teetered perilously close to one of the precipitous drops—too deep for their meagre travel lights to pierce through the darkness to the bottom. He could tell that Noct was growing increasingly irritated with his hovering by the muttering and sighing, but fortunately, the Prince was wise enough not to warp away from him, as he would most certainly fall off the edge the first time he tried it.

“If Solheim did build this place,” Laura said as they gingerly made their way up a ramp, searching carefully for chasms set into the floor, “it doesn’t seem like they finished it. Rusty bits, chrome bits, metal scraps, building stones . . . the place is a mess.”

“Yeah,” Gladio grumbled, “And His Highness the Hoarder has to pick _everything_ up and keep it. You workin’ on buildin’ a house or somethin’ we don’t know about? That shit’s useless.”

“I . . . dunno. It’s like, a compulsion, or something. I can’t help it.”

“It’s quite all right,” Ignis said. “There’s room in the armiger, and we can always sell them if we find no use for them.”

 _Look at the_[ _wall_](https://i.imgur.com/XOpR0Dw.png) _, Ignis,_ Laura said as they entered a room with five immortality doors they either couldn’t reach or couldn’t open. _Over the Solheimian switch._

 _The walls are leaking scourge?_ he asked in disbelief, reaching out with his senses, but he still couldn’t detect even a whiff of that dark, pulsating evil he’d perceived in their previous descents into other pits of hell.

_Still a representation, but yes._

“Hey, you guys?” Noct said hesitantly as he stared at a pillar set into the middle of the black abyss. “I think we gotta go that way.”

“Ohhhhh, man,” Prompto groaned. “Do we have to? We’re so gonna die!”

“If it’s the only way forward,” Gladio said with a shrug. Taking a deep breath, he leapt across the bottomless chasm and onto the pillar with the smallest of hops to gain control of his momentum. “Guess the way forward’s pretty obvious,” he said, pointing to the glowing white switch. With a massive grunt of effort, he leapt for it, the edges of his feet just barely catching the landing. The switch turned dark as his feet touched the gold, and before they could ask any questions about what lay ahead, he leapt again.

“There’s a walkway here,” came his deep voice, repeating over and over in long, slow echoes as it bounced off the stone walls and down to the bottom of the chasm—gods only knew how far.

“It seems that this is our way forward. You next, Higheness,” Ignis said, gesturing with a hand.

Ignis himself had no trouble traversing the jumps when his turn came, experienced in various arts of dexterity as he was. His long legs were quite the asset in this place, as well, but then, Laura tended to point out often that his legs were _always_ an asset—whether in the line of duty or otherwise.

“I guess . . . me next,” Prompto said tremulously.

“Try not to think about what’s below, Prom,” Laura said gently. “Just concentrate on the block.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, turning toward the pillar. “Simple as that.”

Ignis could see through Laura’s eyes Prompto’s shaking hands and clenched jaw as he took a deep breath, and though Ignis was a little irritated that this was taking so long, he had to admit he was somewhat impressed with the way Prompto sprung forward bravely despite his acrophobia. But they all knew the moment he jumped off the edge of the walkway that he wouldn’t make it, and several things happened at once.  

Noct took a step forward, summoning his blade as though preparing to warp out to the pillar, but Ignis immediately clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed tightly.

“No!” Gladio and Noct shouted.

He had just enough time to pick up the thread of Laura’s thoughts as Prompto let loose a long, loud, bloodcurdling scream of terror that made Ignis’s blood run cold, but he didn’t have enough time to tell her that the idea was folly before she disappeared in a haze of blue.

 _Rose, no!_ he managed to shout—too late.

She reappeared roughly six feet above the pillar, performing a graceful flip midair to face the walkway she’d left and letting gravity pull her down belly-first onto the hard, unforgiving stone with a grunt.

“Prom!” she screamed. Her mind was a storm of panic as she stretched out, grasping Prompto’s hand with both hers and digging her claws into his flesh in an effort to slow his momentum. Ignis could feel the skin pushing itself up under her nails as his hand slipped through her grasp, her desperate panic as she reached out again to find only empty air and another retreating scream from Prompto. “No!”

Ignis wrapped his arm tightly around Noct, frozen and unfeeling in shock and horror at what had just happened. While it was true that he wasn’t quite as close with the young gunman as he was with the others, he had always appreciated his sunny demeanor in the face of peril and darkness. When their journey had taken a turn from a carefree roadtrip to a nightmarish war of five against an entire empire, Ignis had had his doubts about Prompto’s abilities to keep the Prince safe—the last thing they’d needed was another charge to watch over. But Prompto had persevered, had always worked hard to be of use, and that was a trait Ignis had always admired most in a person.

Prompto’s final echoes had faded from the walls, and Ignis closed his eyes in mourning for their lost friend and comrade, squeezing Noct’s shoulder in comfort as the Prince took several hitching breaths.

“Fuck,” he heard Gladio mutter from Noct’s other side.

 _Laura Scientia,_ Ignis said sharply, opening his eyes when he felt the wheels in her head turning in an effort to find _some_ way to follow him down, to save him. _Don’t. You. Dare._

She was still collapsed over the pillar, her arms and legs hanging off the edge and dangling over the abyss. _I know,_ she said shakily. _I just . . . I failed him. He was too far away for me to . . . I couldn’t even hold his mind as he . . .._

**BOOM.**

The cacophony returned as though it had never ceased—Prompto’s hoarse and panicked death wail assaulting Ignis’s sensitive hearing and bouncing off the walls once again as though he’d never died, and it was music to Ignis’s ears.

“PROMPTO,” Gladio shouted in the direction the voice was coming from, but a massive wall blocked their view from most of the room.

 _Can you see him?_ he asked Laura, but she hadn’t moved since the thunderous crash had sounded. _Are you hurt? What’s wrong?_

 _Dizzy,_ she gasped. _Too much temporal stimulation—being in the past, warping, this place, and now Prompto. Hold on._

Growing impatient for some sort of answer as to Prompto’s condition, Ignis cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Prompto, for gods’ sakes, if you’re all right, kindly cease screeching and let us know!”

The ululation was cut off abruptly, plunging the room into oppressive silence once again, and Noct looked up at him with wet, terrified eyes.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Noct asked in a small voice before yelling out, “Prompto!”

 _He’s alive_ , Laura said as she did her best to get to her feet without falling. _Time for him has . . . reset._

“I have an inkling he will be, yes,” Ignis replied.

“I—I—I’m,” Ignis heard Prompto stutter back, and he allowed himself to sag a little as he let out a deep breath.

Gladio turned to quickly inspect the dark hallway behind them, no doubt eyeing the dim glow of the fiery spiked ceiling, before coming back to stand next to them. “Seems this goes back to the first room, maybe behind the cage.”

“I’ll get Prompto and meet you back there,” Laura groaned before hopping lightly back to the walkway. “Go on.”

 _Be careful,_ her voice echoed in his thoughts at the exact same moment he sent her the same message. As he gently pushed at the reluctant, trembling Prince’s shoulder to get him moving along the path, Ignis added, _Send word about Prompto the moment you reach him. Noct appears beside himself._

“N—no,” Noct protested, his voice growing hoarse with panic as he stumbled forward. “What about Prompto?”

_I’ve got him. He’s frozen in terror, but he’s all right. We’re going to need a minute before we can head back._

“Laura says that he’s unharmed. Come now, the sooner we get back, the sooner you can see for yourself that he’s all right.”

The short, narrow hallway leading to the top of Ifrit’s cage was simple to navigate, and they had just pressed the switch to raise the prison when they heard Prompto’s “I think that worked!”

Raised to a new level of the building, they could no longer see the main room, but that didn’t stop Noct from pressing his face against the rusty barred walls of the room they’d found themselves in to yell down, “Prompto! You okay?”

“Yeah,” Ignis heard him chuckle weakly from below. “Looks like I’ll live.”

 _You activated a cannonball down here when you hit that switch,_ Laura said as they rushed down the path that appeared to be leading them back down to the first room. _Dare I say . . . a meteor? It rolled into Ifrit’s prison, simulating that it broke him free._

 _So you believe we’re re-enacting some sort of story, a play, of sorts,_ he surmised. _Perhaps the war of the Astrals, given the meteor? Then who is doing the telling?_

_I imagine we’ll find out when we know who the hero of this tale is. We already know by the name of the place and Gentiana’s words that this has to do with Eos._

After sliding down a wall that brought them back to the floor of the main room where they’d started, the three of them reunited with Laura and Prompto with shoulder pats, expressions of relief, and brave faces. Though Ignis himself was relieved to see their friend alive, he stood back with Laura and Gladio to expedite the reunion. Allayed as their grief was, they needed to proceed as quickly as possible if they were to leave this place.

“Does this mean when we die, time gets reset for us?” Gladio asked in a low voice, leaning down closer to Laura.

“It appears that way, thank the stars. Even the claw marks on his arm are gone,” she replied.

“That’s something, at least, as it vastly increases our chances of getting out of here alive,” Ignis added.

The next step forward was easy enough to guess; as Noct and Prompto rehashed all that had happened, Gladio folded his fingers together in front of what Ignis now thought of as the meteor, allowing Laura to step up into his hand so he could hoist her up on top of the sphere. Leaping across the gap to the wall, she hit the glowing switch. Several deafening cracks and crashes of masonry sent them all scurrying to the other side of the prison wall, eager to see what magic they had unleashed.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Noct said.

“Titan was hit by a meteor,” Laura replied as their travel lights fell on the now headless statue of Titan and the chained metal ball still swinging just above his neck. Ignis held a hand over his nose to avoid breathing in the rock dust floating on the air as she continued, “Leaving Ifrit free to break into the next room.”

 _Titan has fallen under a meteor,_ Ignis mused. _Is this representative of him catching the meteor that fell on the Disc of Cauthess while at the same time freeing Ifrit from his jailer?_

_Possibly, since we suspect that Titan helped Solheim to create the Disc. Maybe he was protecting it._

Ignis reviewed what he had learned the night Rose had showed him all she had learned from their trial with Titan but hadn’t yet analyzed—those long, physics-defying arches that spanned far too much of the Duscaean region to be naturally formed and happened to mark out perfectly the sun’s progress across the sky; the out-of-place mythril wave, so reminiscent of a feathery wing and so well-suited to acting as the gnomon of a sundial; the fact that the Disc’s location was so central to the continent . . .. It made perfect sense that a civilization that had named itself after the sun and the planet after their goddess had solicited one of Eos’s children to assist them in building a giant sundial in the middle of their kingdom in reverence before they turned dark. Damaged as it was now, however, there was no way to tell for certain if their theory was correct.  

“What? So this is Titan and Ifrit, and these are meteors?” Gladio asked. “Yeah, I guess I see it now.”

“And we got just one more,” Prompto said, pointing to the large ball that was lined up to hit the door.

It wasn’t until Noct warped up to hit the switch above Titan’s arm, releasing the meteor that broke down the door in the middle of the room, that Laura stopped on the stairs, bending over to inspect the stone closely.

 _What is it?_ he asked, coming up beside her to see what had caught her attention.

_Whatever that black stuff is we see seeping from the walls and falling from the ceiling—I think the meteor was tainted with it._

Ignis didn’t need to lean in close to see the [streaks of black](https://i.imgur.com/pnbtzEL.png) painting the steps just below where the meteor had been stored, but he did anyway, if only to discern whether or not the black substance matched that which they’d taken a sample of.

 _It does,_ she replied. _If it didn’t have the potential to be infectious, I’d taste it, and we’d know for certain._

 _You’re mad for even thinking of such nonsense,_ he said, shooting her a glare. He grabbed her hand, helping her to her feet, before the two of them followed behind Prompto, Gladio, and Noct into the next room.

 _Chemical composition analysis is something that comes in handy sometimes. Just be glad I don’t run around licking walls like the Doctor did,_ she said with her mischievous tongue-touched smile, but then she grew serious. _I do think this place is supposed to represent the home of the gods, with the oil representing the darkness within each of us, the DNA-flies as life and light._

_So if these meteors are tainted, and they landed on Eos during the War of the Astrals, does that mean they are the source of the scourge?_

_I don’t think so—perhaps just a single element that was included in the scourge. The statues aren’t depicted as being infected, and remember that plasmodium was somehow involved—a single-celled organism, not oily black stuff. But it’s possible Titan caught the meteor in a failed effort to keep that black stuff off the planet, not just to protect the sundial._

“Hot damn, you know, I may not be telepathic, or whatever,” Gladio said, turning back to look at them as they walked over the threshold, “but I can hear the wheels turning between you two. You wanna share with the class?”

“Yeah, I’m not normally into the history thing, really, but anything to take my mind off this place,” Noct said.

Prompto nodded vigorously, hopping back and forth on his feet as he said, “Yeah, this place is worse than a boss-level dungeon!”

“It’s [Ifrit standing over the planet](https://i.imgur.com/WlOu3iw.png),” Ignis said, nodding to the horned statue, identical to that of the one in the cage. He was crouched in an identical position in front of a gargantuan yellow sphere, the entrance through which Ignis could just make out the dim glow of a spinning roller of lava spikes. “I believe Ifrit threw those meteors to Eos to free himself, and this room, with its depiction of the planet Eos, is where they ended up when they shot through his realm—which would perhaps explain the meteors at the Disc of Cauthess and Lestallum.”

“And perhaps whatever black stuff they were tainted with would explain why they’re still burning after all those years,” Laura agreed. “You shouldn’t be able to power cities off burning meteor shards. That hole through the planet though . . . is that supposed to represent the damage we did with the meteor? Was Ifrit using meteors to reach something beneath the planet?”

“Hey guys?” Gladio said as he leaned over the walkway, staring into the abyss. His eyes darted up to Ifrit before turning back below. “He’s staring at this chick wayyyyyy down there. Might be Eos?”

“Looks like it,” Laura said as she leaned over the side next to him.

Ignis stepped up to the edge of the walkway next to Laura, craning his neck and squinting into the dark in an attempt to get a better view of the details on the lit-up statue far below them. _So if that first room is supposed to be the womb of Eos that we escaped from, how did we end up so far above her?_

 _Time and space are fluid concepts, love,_ she said gently. _This place is the perfect example of that. But this is probably who Ifrit is punching holes in the planet to reach. I wonder if she was imprisoned beneath the Disc of Cauthess._

 _This may be what their shame was,_ he said, nodding down at the woman. _They imprisoned her for her crime. Perhaps her punishment didn’t fit it. Perhaps Ifrit was imprisoned because he disagreed with what was done to her._

“I bet that’s our destination then, Noct said.

“Yeah, let’s get going so we can get outta here,” Prompto said.

As they continued onward in their perilous trek, the symbolism behind their every action in the bizarre, dark rooms didn’t let up. A switch that activated and set the world to spinning on its axis was Ifrit’s revenge against Solheim—likely for using that machine in the basement of Costlemark to channel Eos’s powers in an attempt to gain immortality. A red statue of Ifrit represented his anger at what was being done to Eos—by both Solheim and the other Five imprisoning him. Rooms filled with ledges and moving spikes of lava represented a harrowing journey, perhaps to hell, given the imagery. A great, roaring, [rolling barge](https://i.imgur.com/55uCFrT.png) with an enormous skull as its figurehead was kicking up walls of ‘lava’ with its rotating waves of heated spikes as it glided back and forth across the room—Charon the Greek mythical ferryman taking them across the river of death to the Underworld, according to Rose.

And their deaths—they only grew marginally easier to bear, even with the absolute certainty that no death in this hellish place was permanent. Prompto had died enough times to almost grow used to the process, if not the pain of the actual experience, but even his steadfast cheery demeanor, façade though it obviously was, was beginning to wear thin. Gladio and Noct died far less often due to their extensive training, but that didn’t stop Ignis’s heart from catching in his throat each time the light left his charge’s eyes or his body disappeared completely.

Neither he nor Rose had endured the experience of a reset, but it was only a matter of time before Ignis’s human reflexes failed him as he grew wearier. The rooms seemed to buzz with the activity of the rolling apparatuses decorated in magically heated spikes, as though left in the fires of a forge, turning them hot, molten, and pliable. The heat pouring off them in wavy mirages was making him sweat—the salty water dripping down his face and soaking his shirt until he was forced to take his jacket off just so he could breathe.

“You kidding me?” Gladio asked incredulously when they’d stopped to take a break and began discussing the Underworld imagery. “I’m trying not to die down here. You expect me to interpret shit while I’m clinging to a rock the size of one of my feet as I spin around over a huge pit?”

“No, that’s why I’m doing it for you,” Laura said calmly. “A lot of this has to do with history and mythology from another planet, so it would hardly be fair to expect you to know these things. Pretty sure the Six either aren’t from this planet or definitely visited Earth at some point.”

 _How are you holding up?_ she added, looking down at him in concern as he slid down the metal wall and stretched his legs out in front of him with a small groan in the back of his throat.

 _I’m fine,_ he replied.

“For a girl who didn’t graduate Earth school, you sure seem to know a lot about its history and myths,” Gladio said collapsing onto his stone ledge and letting his feet dangle over the side.

Laura waited to reply as the barge approached their position, summoning several bottles of water for the group and a bottle of Ignis’s preferred coffee while the thunderous grind of the enormous metal contraption on its tracks receded.

 _Thank you, love,_ he said, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip. Though he was still covered in sweat, Ignis found he was grateful for the beverage’s warmth, as their lofty position high above the rolling machine meant their resting place was quite drafty. Shivering against the chill, he let the hot liquid pool over his tongue, filling his palate with the aroma of cocoa and what he now associated with sweet, tart, floral Ulwaat berry.

“I’ve been back to Earth several times, just in universes too far away from my home one to be considered parallel. I’ve got university degrees in so many things—many you’ve probably never even heard of. Collecting weird ones was a hobby of mine for a while.”

Ignis had firsthand experience with Rose’s education, as it was usually the source of their nightly adventures. Still, she’d learned so _much_ in her seven millennia of life that he suspected her answer would still surprise him, so he asked, “Really? Like what?”

“Oh, you know,” she trailed off, waving a vague hand in the air, “auctioneering, xenolinguistics, hairdressing on Platina V, lunar agriculture, fermentation sciences, telepathy, temporal engineering; you can actually get a doctorate degree on Mars in underwater basket weaving, believe it or not. Medicine, science, engineering, candy floss, Lego, philosophy, music, problems, people, hope.” She paused for a moment, taking a quick breath before turning her blue eyes, alight in the indirect shine of their travel lights, toward them. “Mostly hope,” she finished.

“Well I’m not feeling much hope here,” Noct sighed. “This is impossible.”

“Things are only impossible until they’re not. Now come on! Let’s get far enough away from this racket so we can eat and get some rest.”

Ignis pulled away from the wall that was serving as his backrest and muttered under his breath, “A respite over a two-thousand-foot drop—what a restful rest that’ll be.”

“It wouldn’t be so impossible if you stopped taking an extra three steps every time you land, Noct . . . and that roll you do sometimes ain’t doin’ you any favors, either,” Gladio pointed out as he got to his feet.

“It’s not like I can just stick a landing after jumping that far,” Noct complained. “I dunno how you guys do it.”

“I told you for years that gymnastics or yoga would improve your balance,” Ignis couldn’t help but point out.

“Like I didn’t have enough to do,” he grumbled in response.

After exiting the ferry room and getting caught together in an empty wedge of a spinning stone wheel, they all halted to check themselves over for damage from the four sets of flying feet and rolling bodies they’d just endured. Ignis had had quite enough with this place and its whimsical torture chambers, but the trepidation, interest, and even a stirring of excitement he could feel growing in Rose’s mind indicated that their trials had only begun. Whatever was making her experience this exuberant fascination couldn’t be good for any of them, surely.

 _What is it now?_ he asked with dread.

 _This is going to be interesting,_ she said, lifting his elbow up to brush off a smudge of dust. _All those disturbances in time and space . . . I think we know the source of the twists in time; now we’re about to experience the space._

As Noct took a step to start forward again, she caught his shoulder. “Hold up. This next part’s going to be difficult for you guys.”

“Cause it’s been a cakewalk up till now,” Gladio muttered.

“Just . . . let me go first. I need you to forget about concepts of up or down. Turn your mind off completely and just follow me.”

 _This shouldn’t be too difficult for you,_ she added privately. _It’s just like fighting. Keep that Intuition on and the analytical part of your mind off._

Without another word, she turned and trotted off, the black room seeming to swallow the image of her retreating back whole.

“We gotta get her a travel light just so we can see her when she does shit like that,” Gladio mumbled as they scrambled after her.

“Time after time, I skip to the edge of the abyss then dance away again,” she said in a singsong voice, the ghostly sound echoing off the corridor in the dark.

When their travel lights fell on the gleaming white teeth of her mischievous smile and her glittering eyes, she was seated on the platform that served as the entrance to the room, a knee bent as she nimbly undid the buckles of her boots.

“What’re you doing?” Noct asked as though she’d lost her mind, and though Ignis could see the train of her thoughts, he had to admit her actions did appear rather demented to those not in the know.

“Gonna need m’bare feet for this!” she said with a laugh.  

“Should we um . . . take our shoes off too?” Prompto asked hesitantly. “Cause I kinda don’t wanna do that.”

Knowing the answer already, Ignis examined the new devilry of the room that was visible in their beams—not nearly enough—the ever-present chasm that seemed to constantly welcome them into death’s awaiting embrace and a twisting column suspended in midair, creating a path for them to walk.

“Nah, ’M the one that needs to feel the gravimetric currents. You jus’ gotta turn those minds off, yeah?”

 _You’re entirely too gleeful over the prospect of traversing this hellhole,_ Ignis told her, pointing out her accent shift.

“Turn our minds off?” Prompto asked as he stepped onto the column. “Everything looks normal. Why do we gotta turn our minds off?”

_Been awhile since I walked in space! This is gonna be like walkin’ in an M.C. Escher paintin’._

“Shouldn’t be too hard for you to do,” Gladio said.

“Think this place ‘ad two architects,” Laura said, looking around the room, and seeing through her eyes, Ignis had to agree.

“The evidence of Solheimian architecture has all but disappeared—the intricate columns, the switches. This room is raw and wild with god magic,” he said in a low voice.

Laura pulled off her second boot and dismissed it to the armiger before reaching for her sock. “M’ thinkin’ it was Ifrit who added the statues n’ things after ‘e died in Ravatogh to tell ‘is story. Sol’eim must’ve used it before then. No guarantee tha’ god magic wasn’t Sol’eim’s though!”

“What did they use this place for though?” Gladio asked, but she merely shrugged and jumped to her bare feet.

“Allons-y!” she laughed merrily. “No dyin’ on me now, you ‘ear? This part’s s’posed to be fun!”

“Do . . . you know what she’s talking about?” Prompto asked Ignis as he hesitantly stepped onto the path behind her.

Ignis followed behind Prompto, ensuring that Noct went next so he’d be positioned between him and Gladio. “A vague notion, but not enough to be of help, I’m afraid,” he replied as he tried to make sense of the currents of what he assumed to be gravity in her mind.

“It’s ‘ard to explain,” she said. “You’ll find out in just a second ‘ere.”

“You mean at that dead end up ahead?” Prompto asked, pointing to where their path twisted sharply up at a ninety-degree angle, transforming their walkway into a wall.

“Yep! Watch _this,_ ” she said gleefully as she stepped up onto the wall as though her feet were coated in superglue. She took a few steps forward before turning to look back down at them. “Come on, then!”

“I—” Prompto began.

“I’m too tired to be surprised by anything anymore,” Noct said, heaving a weary sigh.

“Fuck this shit, that’s all I gotta say,” Gladio said.

Ignis squinted at what he believed to be the wall. If he concentrated enough, let go of everything he believed about the ground and sky, he could disregard the door they’d entered as the basis of gravity, the object that determined what was up, down, left, or right for them. From Laura’s perspective, they were just as stuck to a wall as she was from theirs; she was the one standing on the ground. All he needed to do to reorient himself to the next ‘floor’ was to step down onto it.

_By the light of all the stars, I take it back. Don’t turn that beautiful analytical mind off. You’re absolutely correct._

“Go ahead and step down, Prompto,” Ignis encouraged, nudging him forward.

“Um . . . don’t you mean up?” he asked, his neck craning to catch sight of Laura looming above him.

“The enemy gate is down,” Laura replied with a smirk before turning serious and empathetic. “Try not to worry about whether it’s up or down and just step.”

Once the four of them had made it to the new floor and finished expressing their disbelief and amazement, they followed after her swift, skipping gait—jumping over vast chasms, balancing on barred floors and walls and ceilings, traversing hallways that twisted and contorted into tortured shapes, and teetering on suspended puzzle pieces that meandered off into the void. Holes in the floor became doors in the wall, edges that dropped off into the abyss became narrow walkways, and tilted slides became no more than even flooring—as smooth as the stone courtyard outside his quarters when he lived at the Citadel.

Ignis felt as though he were a child following after the Pied Piper into this black, refracted dream world where space, and even time, had no meaning down here in the dark. The only question was, where exactly was she leading them? Beyond the statue of the woman they had spotted at the very bottom, not even Rose knew what lay ahead for them.

_If you like, I’ve got a piccolo or a pan flute I could try to pick a tune out on. It would add some atmosphere and support your whole ‘Pied Piper’ theory._

_That’s hardly necessary,_ he replied dryly. _Though I’m thrilled to see you, at least, having fun with this._

“Man, the worst ones are when she walks on the parts that should send her tumbling to her death,” Prompto complained. “This is too . . . trippy.”

“Yeah. How in the name of Bahamut’s blue balls do you know which is the floor, Princess?” Gladio called out from behind him as she sidestepped up onto the wall—no, the floor to the left.

“They’re all the floor,” she laughed, spinning around briefly to grin at them before turning back to dance up to the ceiling—no, _still_ the floor for her, merely the ceiling to them. “The formula for the planet’s gravitational constant has been neutralized with a competing equation, then reapplied to the stonework here.”

“Just smile and nod,” Noct sighed.

But the game changed quite suddenly when she skidded to a halt at the end of a tilted corridor. The walkway was wide enough for the four of them to line up side by side here, wide enough for them all to see what had Laura frowning in concern so suddenly—another rolling wheel of stone with a slice cut out. Ignis didn’t understand what was troubling her so—they’d managed one of these before with no issue—until she gently guided his mind into hers and stretched her senses out to the area below, for their next destination _was_ , in fact, below them and not suddenly a wall.

“This next part is going to be difficult for you all to bear, I think, but after this, the worst should be over, and we’ll be able to take a break,” she said quietly.

“You gonna put your boots back on?” Prompto asked.

Flat—it was the only word he could use to describe what she was sensing. The space below them was pressed and rolled out as though by a steamroller, and though he didn’t know what that meant in the terms of the real world, her reaction was hardly doing much to encourage Ignis to find much enthusiasm for pressing forward.

“No. I think it’s best I leave them off for this part too. I need you not to panic when we jump down there,” she continued. “But prepare yourselves . . . we’re going to be . . . two-dimensional the second we jump into this hole.”

“And just how the fuck does someone prepare themselves for that?” Gladio scoffed.

“Dude. No. Just—no,” Prompto muttered, shaking his head and taking a step back.

Ignis huffed an exasperated sigh. “We have a choice—either go forward or sit here until we die. It’s not as though we’re physically capable of turning back now. We’re trapped here.”

“Unfortunately, Ig’s right,” Gladio agreed. “This is gonna be some twisted shit, but we don’t really got a choice.”

“No turning back,” Noct agreed with a sigh, looking down blankly at the spinning wheel.

“All right. I’ll go first so I know what’s down there,” Laura said, crouching close to the stone and silently counting out the seconds she had left until the missing wedge appeared. “Prom, babe, you come right after me. The rest of you work out whatever order is best.”

 _Have you ever been two-dimensional before?_ he asked just as she leapt into the wedge and disappeared from sight.

_No, but the Doctor has . . . was sucked into a drawing by the Isolus once. I have his memory of the experience. Aaaand . . . seems it was on point. Go ahead and send Prompto down here._

Ignis took a moment to view the world through her eyes in an attempt to prepare himself, perhaps even to prepare Prompto, for the experience to come, but all he could make out was an absolute mess of what appeared to be a child’s drawing of randomly-drawn, grey straight lines. One of the lines appeared to be blinking in and out of existence—disappearing for a moment from her view before returning again.

 _It’s the wheel I just came down on,_ she explained as Ignis gestured Prompto forward with a hand.

“Well,” Prompto chuckled, “Guess now I get to know what it feels like to be in a photo, right? After all this time.”

“Just keep your wits about you and everything will be fine,” Ignis replied.

“Yeah,” he said, giving Gladio and Noct a final, wide-eyed glance. “Here goes nothin’.”

The screaming started the moment Prompto jumped into the wedge and they lost sight of him in the narrow gap in the floor.

“SHIT! WHERE’D MY BODY GO? I LITERALLY DON’T HAVE A BODY!”

“Prompto,” Ignis could barely hear Laura’s voice call out below the grinding wheel, “You’re all right. You’re standing on a platform now; just jump down to me.”

“HOW CAN I DO THAT IF MY LEGS ARE GONE? I’M JUST A LINE!”

“Wow,” Noct whispered.

“Yeah, got a feeling this is gonna be one of the weirdest things we’ve done,” Gladio said as he stared down at the gap.

_All right, I’ve got him. Next person._

“I suppose we should continue on as we have been? I’ll go next, then Noct, then Gladio?” Ignis asked, nodding to each of them.

“Yeah, whatever,” Noct said.

Without another word, Ignis turned back, waited for the wedge to appear, took a quick breath, and jumped.

Calm. He _must_ remain calm. There was nothing the matter with his body—he only had to keep reminding himself that. Prompto’s self-assessment was indeed correct—as the straight black and purple line that now represented his body fell out of the line that was now the wheel and onto another grey line that ended abruptly in front of him.

 _Are you all right?_ Laura asked. _I need you to jump down so Noct won’t land on you._

 _How exactly do I move in this place?_ he asked. _It appears as though I no longer have legs._

“Your body still exists in its three-dimensional form,” she said aloud, likely so the others could hear her back in their three-dimensional world. But her voice sounded odd, deep and flat to his ears in a way he couldn’t accurately put a name to. “You’ve only lost the ability to perceive it. Just use your muscle memory to walk.”

Remembering what it felt like to move his legs, to even have legs, he stepped off the line and fell; apparently, gravity still existed on this plane in some form. As he landed on yet another line, he imagined bending his knees to cushion the weight of his fall before looking up to where he expected to find Laura.

“H—h—hey, Iggy,” he heard Prompto’s voice stammer.

What Ignis assumed to be Prompto’s body was now a straight line—black and tan and blonde—rising up at a ninety-degree angle from the grey line of the floor. He seemed to be flashing in and out of existence for some reason Ignis couldn’t fathom.

 _He’s shifting back and forth on his feet,_ Laura said. _That’s just how you perceive it._

_Where are you?_

_In front of him, but you can’t see around him to see me._

_It’s as though we’ve become drawings on a sheet of paper,_ he said, fighting to breathe against the nausea rising in what used to be his throat—in what he supposed technically still was his throat . . . somewhere, on another plane of existence.

_A cross-section of you is existing on an upright piece of paper. You have up, down, forward, backward, but there is no right or left._

Ignis remembered the concept of ‘left,’ of course, as he had only just a minute ago spent a lifetime in his three-dimensional body. In turning what he believed to be his head in that direction, exposing the cross-section of his face to this new existence, he was met with an alarming lack of anything at all—no black, no light, no wall—a complete lack of anything that he’d believed his consciousness incapable of perceiving until that very moment. ‘Left’ and ‘right’ were _gone_ —erased from existence.

And it was terrifying.

_Ignis? Come back to me, love. Look forward. Only ever look forward._

“What the _hell_?!” Noct yelled from above, but Ignis wasn’t feeling quite well enough to chance facing the non-existence long enough to turn completely around to look at him. A thud sounded behind him before Noct asked in a trembling voice, “Iggy? Is that you?”

“Yes, we’re all present and accounted for,” Ignis replied, closing his eyes. _Nothing_ in his body worked properly—his every sense, made so much more sensitive by Rose’s training, was stunted by his awareness being reduced to this sliver of sensory input. Even cutting off the extra senses that had allowed him to ‘see’ so well today, this was too much—and yet not enough. Despite his mind’s insistence that he remain calm and rational about this—after all, his body was completely fine—the physical sensations of the experience were beginning to overwhelm him. His heart was beating strangely in his chest, even if he couldn’t fully perceive his chest here in this strange realm. His lungs weren’t taking in enough air to support him properly. His stomach was burning and churning its way up his too-tight throat.

_Ignis, are you all right?_

As he heard Gladio’s thud and subsequent shout, Ignis leaned over and, cursing his feeble constitution, heaved up the contents of his stomach—the acid from the coffee he’d recently drunk burning its way up his esophagus before splashing just in front of his shoes—or at least, that was the way his mind chose to interpret things. His eyes (or eye?), however, merely registered a series of dots appearing on the grey line beneath the line that was his body.

 _I’ll live,_ he finally managed to reply when his gut had stopped clenching.

“Iggy, did you just . . . blow two-dimensional chunks?” Noct asked.

“Heh, what’s the matter, Ig? Can handle the jumpin’ around like a fuckin’ ninja in the dark, but can’t handle . . . bein’ a line? Or whatever the hell this is,” Gladio chuckled.

“Apologies,” Ignis replied as smoothly as he could manage. “It won’t happen again. Please, now that we’re all here, let us proceed posthaste from this nightmare.”

The process took far longer than he’d wished, as they often had to stop for Laura to talk them through the disorienting realm of flashing, groaning, multicolored lines. It was often difficult, almost impossible, to interpret what they were even _looking_ at, and more than once, Ignis had to unfairly take advantage of his connection with Rose to get a three-dimensional rendering of what lay in front of him.

“Whaddya think this place existed for?” Prompto asked when he’d finally grown accustomed to existing as a line among several.

“Punishment in hell, I bet,” Noct muttered.

“You may be onto something there,” Laura said as she led them over a gap—likely leading to an abyss that would kill them should they fall through it. “Maybe the Five put Eos in hell for whatever her crime was, and Ifrit went down to get her. Maybe the entrance to hell was under the Disc or under Lestallum, which is why the meteors landed there. But remember this place was built by Solheim and is just being used by Ifrit to stage a play for us.”

“So the question is, what was Solheim using it for before Ifrit turned it into a hellhole?” Gladio asked.

After another two leaps across gaping holes in their reduced reality, she answered, “I can’t be sure, but this feels remarkably like time and space training for time-sensitive races.”

 _Like the Time Academy the Doctor attended on Gallifrey?_ Ignis asked.

_A primitive version, yes._

After another few minutes of walking, the line that represented Prompto’s slice of existence halted in front of him, and Ignis reached out, feeling through Rose’s senses for the pocket of the third dimension that would be evidence of the end of this harrowing ‘adventure.’

“Prom, this would be easier if you closed your eyes,” Laura said. “You're about to become your normal self again, and the transition might be a bit . . . weird.”

“Oh . . . kay,” Prompto replied, and after a moment, his line seemed to shiver before disappearing. “All right!” he cried out in triumph. “Guys! It’s all normal and safe here!”

The black and porcelain line that took Prompto’s place, though he didn’t recognize her, was still a sight that made Ignis’s heart swell.

 _Rose,_ he whispered, wishing with all his existence that he had an arm to reach out to her in that moment of privacy. Remembering what it once was like to smile, he approximated the feeling as he said, _How many bodies of yours will I have the pleasure of meeting?_

 _Technically, they’re all the same one, you know,_ she said amusedly. _I only wish you didn’t have to endure something drastic to meet a new facet of me. Close your eyes, love. It’s over now._

_See you on the other side._

He did as she asked, blocking out the sight of the straight, colored line that represented his wife. For the first time since this ordeal began, he felt a hand on his shoulder and the sensation of being _shoved_ to the right. To the right! Opening his eyes, he found himself in a high, narrow stone hallway, just wide enough to fit his shoulders. Ahead of him, beyond the sight of Prompto flipping his hands back and forth in front of his face, Ignis could make out the figure of Eos in the narrow gap at the end of the hall.

“I don’t wanna seem ungrateful here, but I hope we can get moving soon,” Prompto said with a frown as he poked at his face. “I hate these tight spaces.”

Ignis had but a brief moment to take in a deep breath of stale, ancient air—to revel in the fact that he had two legs; two arms; a full face; the hearing, vision, touch, smell, and taste that he’d grown accustomed to these past twenty-two years—before Noct’s soft gasp sounded behind him.

Maneuvering himself around in the cramped space, he inspected Noct closely, noting his liege’s pale, wide-eyed expression and breathlessness.

“Are you all right?” he asked gently, wondering how many times they would ask each other that question before this venture was completed.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, taking a step forward so Gladio had enough room to be shoved into existence.

“Hot damn! Gotta admit, I was worried I’d never get all these parts back!” Gladio crowed, looking down at himself.

“All right, all right,” came Laura’s laugh from behind Gladio. “Now that we’re all present and accounted for, let’s get out of this hallway and find a ledge to get some rest. Gladio can use the time to make sure his dick still works right.”

“Hey,” he grunted, turning as best he could to face her. “Nothin’ more important than that. Just ask Iggy.”

Choosing to ignore Laura’s and Gladio’s suggestive game, Ignis put a hand on Prompto’s shoulder. “Onward.”

“Oh, man,” Prompto said under his breath as he started forward, leaning back into the sharp decline of the metal floor beneath their boots. “I don’t wanna go first.”

“You’ll be fine. Just keep moving.”

Ignis kept his eyes locked on the [dim sliver of Eos’s statue](https://i.imgur.com/AG0yRXn.png), glowing grey in the gap ahead like a stone bust in some unseen source of light, as the angle of the floor beneath their feet became too steep for even their Crownsguard tread to maintain a sufficient grip. With several exclamations of protest, the group slid down what turned out to be a rusty beam and onto spacious, flat, three-dimensional space for the first time in what felt like years—where the floor was the floor, the walls were walls, and the ceiling was . . . somewhere high above them, but presumably where it belonged.

Having already ensured that Prompto was safe and whole, Ignis stood back to thoroughly inspect Noct and Gladio as they shot out from the chute, pleased to see that everyone was no more than shaken by their trials. Now that he’d lived through the experience, he thought perhaps it hadn’t been so horrible after all—it had almost been . . . fun, in a terrifying sort of way. At the very least, it had been a stimulating intellectual experience—one he could present a paper on if theoretical physics still existed in the sphere of academia in a world of darkness.

When Laura appeared, hopping to her feet with that mad gleam of adventure in her eyes, he wanted nothing more in that moment than to scoop her up, press her against the wall behind her, and kiss her breathless—to share in that joyous sense of being _alive_ together. But before he could take a single step in her direction, Noct’s voice brought him back to reality.

“I could fall asleep right here!” he sighed, sliding down the wall to flop onto the stone floor without so much as summoning a camp chair.

Ignis frowned over at him. “You can remain awake long enough to eat.”

“Are we seriously sleeping here?” Prompto asked, eyeing the two-hundred-foot statue staring them down.

“You see a better place?” Gladio challenged.

There was no discernable change in Laura’s expression as Ignis stepped back and began summoning camp chairs for everyone to sit in, but the way her elation seemed to freeze in place was proof enough that he’d hurt her with his reticence, likely deeply.

 _It’s not you; it’s the situation,_ she reassured him as she summoned a table on which to place their pre-made meal. _I really do understand, you know._ _And I have you all to myself every night. What more could a girl ask for?_

 _A bed and some privacy, perhaps,_ he sighed, summoning the bowls as Laura retrieved the fried rookie on rice they’d made together . . . twelve years ago for her now.

Their meal was a quiet affair, though whether that was due to the eerie atmosphere or their sheer exhaustion, Ignis wasn’t certain. It wasn’t until after he and Laura had done their best to clean up with their limited resources that he noticed either Prompto or Gladio had put his sleeping bag between Noct’s and Laura’s on the right side of the door. Ignis frowned down at the new arrangement, as Noct, Prompto, and Laura usually slept together due to their smaller size. There had to be some reason for this change of habit, even if he couldn’t fathom it.

“Come and sit down, Specs,” Noct said, slapping Ignis’s sleeping bag as he sat down cross-legged on his own. “Got somethin’ I gotta say.”

“Of course,” he said with a nod, sitting on the edge of his bag as he began removing his boots. From the corner of his eye, he could just make out Laura heading over to speak with Gladio and Prompto. For whatever reason, Noct must have wanted privacy for this conversation.

“Can you . . . turn off the head thing?” Noct asked hesitantly as Ignis removed his second boot, dismissed it, and stretched his legs out in front of him.

Ignis nodded as he felt Laura pull away with a soft caress. Likely due to the fact that she could still hear them physically, she chose in that moment to strike up a rather boisterous conversation about the photos Prompto had taken that day in an effort to give them the true privacy Noct was seeking.

“I always did, you know—when you and I spoke privately.”

“Oh. Good.”

Ignis waited patiently, as he always did, for Noct to find his next words. He had a feeling he knew what this was about, particularly after Noct’s request that he disconnect from Laura to speak about it. Noct’s thoughts on the matter of his and Laura’s marriage couldn’t be too damning, he supposed, as Noct had allowed Ignis the luxury of being with her nearly exclusively as she convalesced. Still, he couldn’t ever recall a time when he’d ever felt so anxious for Noct’s opinion to be made known.

“So, married,” he began, reaching up to fiddle with his hair. “You know, even hearing you say it, I still couldn’t believe it.”  

“I do apologize for not having informed you earlier.”

“Nah, I get it. You were protecting each other from Ardyn. Any one of us coulda slipped up and let on about you guys,” he said, batting the apology away. He sighed deeply, staring down at his lap before saying more quietly, “I’m not stupid, ya know. You’re doing this thing with her because of me.”

Ignis opened his mouth to deny the accusation, to claim that he and Laura had always maintained decorum for so many reasons—decency, safety, not flaunting their happiness in the face of those less fortunate. And they had been so very fortunate—how many others could say that they could perform their duty to King and country with their loved one by their side? But since she’d returned, he’d found the reasons for abstaining in expressing his affection, at least in front of the other three, had all but disappeared, leaving only one very good reason—one he wouldn’t cast aside no matter how much it pained them both.

“I . . . that is, we didn’t wish to—”

“Do you have any idea how much I wish I could have . . .,” he interrupted in a harsh voice but trailed off, shaking his head roughly. “She came _back_ , Specs, like a miracle. I’m not gonna pretend I’m not gonna . . . notice, but it kinda sucks when you throw that miracle away.”

Ignis blinked in surprise at the Prince’s sudden display of insight. But, surely he couldn’t be interpreting Noct correctly. “I’m not certain I understand your meaning.”

“Just . . . when it’s just the five of us? Don’t hide it anymore.” His indigo eyes went wide with pain before he looked away toward the other three chatting happily over Prompto’s camera. “That kinda thing reminds us why we do this. Helps us do our jobs better.”

Ignis didn’t quite know how to respond. He’d always been a private man—not the sort to display any sort of physical affection in public, whether toward a friend or Laura. But in extreme moments like the one earlier, when he was certain that no one but the other three would bear witness . . . perhaps they could be given some small leeway to express themselves now and then—as long as their expression didn’t increase the burden Noct had to bear. They had, after all, allowed their manners to slip a time or two, such as after Ravatogh. And it was true that Noct, Gladio, and Prompto were family. If it was inappropriate to express even polite affection in front of family, when _was_ it appropriate?

“I’ll see what I can manage, Highness,” he said quietly.

“Good,” Noct replied, his voice brightening. “We gotta stop talkin’ about all this stuff. It’s embarrassing.”

“Are you guys ready for bed then?” Laura interrupted, seeming to appear from nowhere standing next to Noct’s sleeping bag. “Have to admit, even I’m a bit tired.”

“Yeah,” Noct sighed. “I’m beat.”

Ignis scooted down so he could stretch out fully, and when Laura went still after settling into her own bag, he hesitated briefly before setting his hand lightly on the curve of her hip with a sigh.

 _I’m proud of you, you know,_ she said as he closed his eyes.

 _Whatever for? I certainly had some less than proud moments today,_ he replied, thinking with shame of how thoroughly he’d lost his composure in the two-dimensional room.

_You used your training to see in the dark all day with hardly a second thought._

_I suppose I did,_ he said somewhat smugly, squeezing her hip.

 _Where would you like to go tonight?_ she asked, and he could just make out the reflection of Eos’s spotlight glittering in her eyes as he opened his to look at her. _We could start with a nice bath, maybe some ballet or composing . . . or continue your driving lessons?_

A bath . . . they may not have been able to be together in their dream world for fear of becoming too unruly and messy in the real one, but that didn't mean he couldn't do something for her to make up for his reticence.

_Take me home, first, please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vincent van Gogh only said those words in Doctor Who.
> 
> I realize that the game makes it so only Noct can go into Pitioss—changed that. There are also rooms and steps I skipped completely—one switch activating multiple things instead of just one, etc.—and rewove together to make this chapter about 100k words shorter. They can warp in the dungeon because I say they can, but they obviously don’t a lot of the time because of the imprecise landing issue.
> 
> The gravity room is actually because everything is at a 45-degree angle, confusing wall and floor, but I’ve changed it to be a gravity thing because it’s more fun to imagine. The same thing for the 2D part—they are actually 3D with the perspective changed to be far off to the side in game. Also, there’s no resting spot in front of the giant statue, but the guys need some sleep!
> 
> I had to re-analyze those fan theories a lot more than I thought I would need to, but they still deserve so much credit! I’ll be posting them next chapter.


	65. Chapter 65

_Rose, what’s the matter?!_

Laura had dropped to her knees at the bellybutton of the great [statue of Eos](https://i.imgur.com/J87dXqQ.png), her fingers brushing along the black leather fingers. _Genji gloves_ , Gladio had identified them as, and the pieces of the puzzle she’d been afraid to put together began to fall into place, even if they were merely speculation. Genji, as in the Minamoto clan—members of the Japanese imperial family who were cast out of consideration from the line of succession, just as the two children that represented these gloves were cast out of consideration for Eos’s divine inheritance. She’d only known about any of this because she’d taken part in the Kenmu Restoration in Japan in 1336 with the Doctor, and she wondered exactly how often the Bad Wolf was still setting up these coincidences in her life, plucking at the strings of fate and happenstance so she would know just the right information, be in just the right place at the right time. It was the only way her bond with the TARDIS was capable of intervening when necessary, after all. Had she known Laura would end up here one day?

It was a dodgy process, operating on so much speculation, but if they were sent here by the gods, what other conclusions were they supposed to have come to? It was quite the assumption to send them here expecting the other four to glean any information from this trip, as there was no way she herself could have done it without her extensive knowledge of Earth lore. This new information made this journey far too personal for her, leaving her to worry once again for Ignis’s safety. Eos’s crime had been the same as hers, indeed, if she’d managed to correctly mash her own Greek lore, which had been entirely untrue, with what she knew of this world. But if the Five had done this to Eos for her crime, what would they do to her? What would they do to Ignis?

“Come on,” Noct said in a low voice, leaning over to put a hand on her shoulder. “Whatever this is happened thousands of years ago. Nothin’ to do with us.”

“This has everything to do with you.”

_Rose, please. Tell me what’s the matter._

“What do you mean? What does any of this have to do with me?” Noct asked, his eyes going wide as they shot to the statue’s stony gaze.

Laura took a deep breath and stood, taking slow heavy steps up to Eos’s chin. “Once upon a time, there was a rosy-fingered, saffron-robed Goddess of the Dawn named Eos,” she began. “Homer had a bit of a crush, you see. Anyway, none of this was true in my universe, but it was said that I fell in love with a mortal man named Cephalus and spirited him away, bearing him three sons, two of which had the power of the gods.”

She reached out to touch the left Genji glove in Noct’s hand. “Eosphoros.” Moving to the right glove, she said, “Hesperos. The morning and the evening stars. Phaethon turned out not to possess powers and was supposedly carried off by Aphrodite to become a watchman in one of her temples.”

“Half mortal, half immortal children,” Ignis breathed, his mind beginning to race with the implications of her words, but he hadn’t yet grasped the full scope of what they were dealing with, she could tell. His horror wasn’t complete enough for that. “That would certainly be considered a crime in the eyes of the Six, if the Tidemother’s attitude toward mortals is any indication.”

 _Was it the children or the relationship itself that offended them so? What does that mean for us?_ he asked, glaring down at her with a hard, glittering expression. _Don’t think I haven’t noticed the similarities._ _I **won’t** let them take you away from me._

The Six hadn’t made a move toward either of them yet beyond their intense dislike of her existence, but neither of them had been near a god since their bonding—that was, not when said god wasn’t preoccupied with other, far more important matters. There was no guarantee that it hadn’t been the mixed blood of the children that had been the issue—something that would never be a problem for her and Ignis. But if they came for Ignis because of their bond, the Starscourge would be the least of their problems. They may have been gods to these boys, to the planet’s population, but to her, they were just another species that didn’t have the right to push her or anyone else around. And she didn’t have the moral dilemma of this world’s Eos—the Six weren’t her children.

_I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. They can’t touch us. Besides, maybe they repented. Gentiana did refer to this place as ‘the shame of the Six.’_

Laura pointed in the direction beyond Eos’s neck, where they knew from their landing that she held a katana high above her head. “They must have come for her, and she tried to defend herself, but the Six were her children, too. How could she hurt them? Frozen in indecision, Eos must’ve been cast into the Underworld as punishment.”

Prompto bit his lip in hesitation before asking, “So if she’s mother of the Six, doesn’t that make Shiva and Ifrit . . . you know, brother and sister?”

“It happens all the time with gods on Earth, too,” Laura said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Whatever species they are must not have issues with consanguinity and mating.”

“Um . . . oh . . . kay. But doesn’t Solheim fit into this somewhere? With all the immortality stuff and Ifrit getting pissed?” Prompto asked.

“Solheim must have learned of her imprisonment after a time. A goddess of a solar nature can’t have been doing well down there in the dark, and the Six wouldn’t have wanted her to die either, protectors of the planet that they are.” Ignis tilted his head, examining the [shackles](https://i.imgur.com/itCvsWo.png) around the goddess’s neck before striding up her right arm just far enough that his light shined on one of her shackled wrists. Looking up to the source of the light that had kept her illuminated no matter where they’d been within Pitioss, he said, “Perhaps Solheim worked with the gods to create that contraption in Costlemark to feed sunlight down to her—at least at first.”

“Before they turned dark. Before they built Steyliff,” Noct said.

“Wouldn’t take ‘em long to figure out they could use her imprisonment to their advantage, I bet,” Gladio said with a nod.

“And started trying to find ways to take Eos’s powers with that same machine, as well—the Power of Life for immortality, the Power of Light to power their own facilities, and maybe even the Power of Time, considering what they did here,” Laura said.

“But Ifrit loved mortals. He woulda protested what was being done to his mother,” Gladio said. “Broke outta his own prison and gave Solheim hell for it.”

“The fall of Solheim and the War of the Astrals spanned years, though. How long did she suffer down here before Ifrit saved her?” Ignis asked, his agitation barely restrained as he paced back and forth on the goddess’s bicep.

“Long enough to get the scourge,” Gladio said in a low voice. When Ignis shot him a glare, his fingers curling into fists, Gladio said, “What? We already know how the story ends. Bahamut ran ‘em both through with a blade in Ravatogh before he took her womb to give to the Founder King.”

“And they were both infected when he did that,” Prompto said as he raised his eyes to the goddess’s face looming over them. “So did Ifrit give it to her, or did she give it to Ifrit?”

“She gave it to Ifrit,” Laura said immediately. “We’re playing Ifrit in this little play, and the moment we touched her, she fell backwards onto her back. She’s sick. I still don’t know how she got it, though.”

Noct shook his head and mumbled, “I still don’t get how this has ‘everything to do with me.’”

 _My word,_ Ignis gasped, his eyes nearly popping out of his head as his gaze shot to Noct. _The children. She had them before she fell ill, didn’t she? They survived, didn’t they?_

“Cephalus means ‘head’ in Greek—you know, like the head of a family,” she hinted, hoping they would understand on their own, hoping she wouldn’t have to be the one to tell them, especially Noct, this.

“So . . .,” Noct trailed off.

She took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. “So, there are two families on this planet that display evidence of the power of the gods, that can channel magic from Eos’s womb—some of the Fleurets have the Power of Life to counteract the scourge, and, according to Ignis, Ravus has the Power of the Storm . . . an ability Eos had already passed down once, to Ramuh.”

“That strength of his could be from Titan,” Gladio added with an aggressive grunt. “Probably why the Ring fried Ulric and didn’t kill him, now that I think of it—divine blood.”

“Shit,” Noct breathed. “And the Caelums always had power over time, with the warping, and sword-summoning—like Bahamut.”

“But that means you’re . . .,” Prompto began, but he shook his head, choking on his next words. His, Ignis’s, and Noct’s minds had all gone still in shock at the conclusion they’d reached but couldn’t, daren’t put a voice to.

It was Gladio who said it in a heavy voice, “Part Astral. I’ll be the one to say it. Noct is part Astral.”

Laura backed away from Eos’s chin and joined Ignis on the statue’s arm, where he stood with a hand pushing up his glasses as he rubbed at his eyes. To her surprise, he reached out blindly with his other hand, catching her fingers between his leather-clad ones and gripping tightly.

She blinked down at their joined hands. He’d touched her very few times when he’d considered himself ‘on duty—’ mostly in the car when they were first getting together or when he’d believed he’d been close to losing her. From what she’d heard from Gladio, he’d been uncharacteristically demonstrative with her, even while working, as she’d lain in her healing coma. But since they’d returned from his week-long recuperation, he’d been understandably distant out of respect for Noct’s mourning, an emotion she always caught a wave of whenever she and Ignis so much as looked at one another. But gods, being considerate for Lunafreya’s death didn’t make the pain of having missed him for so long any easier to bear. So often during these last couple of days, it had taken all she had not to wrap her arm around his just to feel the warmth of his skin and the pulse of his heart beating. But there wasn’t just Noct to consider; Ignis, for all his passionate warmth, usually enjoyed his personal space, and even though he’d felt just as clingy as she these past few days, she still didn’t want to impose.

But what could Noct have said to him last night to make him like this? Holding her hand when neither of them was in danger of dying? In front of the others?

And speaking of Noct . . .. “Are you all right, Noct?” she asked, examining his tight expression and closed eyes carefully. _Ignis?_ she added, as he didn’t seem to be in much better condition.

“Yeah,” Noct muttered, looking down at his boots as the shock seemed to fade slowly from his mind. “I mean, I guess it doesn’t change anything.”

“The prophecy,” Ignis spat suddenly, his mind clouding over with a red haze. “Noct and Lady Lunafreya were chosen to rid the world of darkness and blight because they’re the Children of the Dawn—of Light and Life.”

 _But why did it have to be Noct?_ he added as he adjusted his glasses back on his face. _Why does it require his death? What does this have to do with the Chancellor? Perhaps this could be the key to saving him._

“But why me?” Noct asked as though he were listening in on Ignis’s thoughts. “Why not my dad, the Founder King, or hell, any one of the Old Kings in between? And if Luna was chosen, why did Ardyn kill her?”

 _Does he know?_ she asked before adding, “I don’t know why it was you, Noct. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you aren’t terribly powerful, magically speaking.”

 _I don’t believe so,_ Ignis sighed. _He never seemed to understand the gravity of his calling. If I were truly honest with myself . . . I might have suspected it was a possibility, one I most certainly wanted to defeat. Gladio probably suspects in much the same manner._

“I know,” Noct said in a low voice. “My dad was always better at warping and summoning and stuff.”

 _Fate has not been kind to the Lucian Kings,_ Laura said, thinking of Regis’s slow decline and subsequent sacrifice, and that was to say nothing of the sacrifice still to come if they couldn’t find a way to stop it.

 _To any of the Children of the Dawn,_ he said, thinking of Queen Sylva Via Fleuret, cut down by General Glauca; Lord Ravus, forced to serve in the Niflian military in an effort to save his sister from her fate; and Lady Lunafreya herself.

“But . . . there’s one more Child of the Dawn fate hasn’t been kind to,” she said reluctantly, bringing their conversation out to the others, because no one needed to hear this more than Noct. “You see, I don’t know if Cephalus’s name was _actually_ Cephalus here on this world, but I bet I know what his surname was before the family line split off into Caelum and Fleuret.”

“Ya know, I’m starting to be able to tell when you’re about to drop a load of MTs on us,” Prompto said with a grimace.

 _The Chancellor,_ Ignis said in horror, his eyes widening as he followed the thread of her thoughts.

“Izunia.”

“What?!” Noct exclaimed, his eyes shooting up to meet hers as Prompto and Gladio shouted similar expressions of shock.

“Do you remember on that altar what Ardyn said when he thought I was Shiva?” she asked, looking up into Ignis’s tense gaze.

 _I’ve tried so hard to forget about that day,_ he said in a strangled tone, but aloud, he said, “He accused the gods of cursing him to heal the land of their scourge before it consumed him, meaning he had the Power of Eos. And he said ‘two thousand years—’ that would place his origins around the correct time period.”

“And to think,” she chuckled a little, “he _really_ reacted that one time I asked about his family. Yeah, he was checking in on them from time to time, all right.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Gladio said. “He’d either have to be the Founder King or the First Oracle, and neither of them went psycho, that we know of. He couldn’t be one of the two brothers, and now we got three people in a single generation to account for. You sure the third kid didn’t have divine powers? And how’d he get to be immortal? No one else in the families is.”

“The two gloves would seem to indicate that only two were relevant. The third brother might not have even existed in this world,” Laura said. “But who said that the Founder King and the First Oracle had to be the first generation of children? I bet Ardyn never had kids to continue the line. He doesn’t strike me as the white-picket fence, grow a beer belly, and get a minivan sort. And as far as the immortality goes . . . no idea. Maybe Solheim’s experimentation with immortality was successful with him because he was already a demi-god.”

“So, he’d have to be one of Eos’s grandkids or further down the line then,” Gladio said, scratching his head.

Ignis stepped forward. “The timeline is somewhat muddled, but Ifrit’s war against Solheim and subsequent War of the Astrals lasted well over fifty years. It was only after that that Lucis was founded. That certainly leaves room for a generation or two.”

“Solheim was able to hold out against a god _that_ long?” Prompto said in awe.

“It was a rather large empire, and as we’ve seen, they weren’t without power of their own—even if it was gained dishonestly.”

“All right, we can sit here and discuss history all day, or we can get moving and finish this up,” Laura said, taking a few more steps up the statue’s arm. “I’d like to see some daylight today, if I can.”

“Yeah, I’ve had about all I can take this early in the morning,” Noct said.

As she led the way forward, climbing up the barred section of the katana’s guard, Ignis said, _That’s not one of your weaknesses, is it? Keeping you in the dark?_ As he asked the question, his thoughts turned toward the future and the darkness likely heading for them all. Would she be at a disadvantage? Would the darkness kill her?

_No more than it is for you, and that’s something we’re going to have to start planning for—for everyone._

_We could likely sustain the population as long as Eos survives to heat the planet through the photophilic particles. The rest would be down to food production, ecosystem conservation, and vitamin D rationing._

_Oh, is that all?_ she said airily as she leapt onto the katana’s blade and began sliding, picking up speed as the angle grew steeper. _Lucky for you, I’m equipped to handle such things. Get out your lists though, and make a note to tell all your contacts to get people canning any surplus crops immediately._

Studying the Starscourge, supporting the ecosystem, finding a way to save Noct . . . it looked like her social calendar for when they returned was beginning to fill up rather quickly.

The sword _finally_ spit her out, shooting her straight for what she hoped would be the ground at terminal velocity, but she should have known that this place wouldn’t take any pains for ensuring their safety when they landed. The force with which she hit the stone block floor would’ve been enough to break several bones had she been human, maybe even kill her, and as she could feel Ignis only seconds behind her, reached out a hand as she rolled, casting the spell that would temporarily imbue the physical properties of the stone with enough give to make the landing safe for the boys.

“Nirwa,” she gasped as the pain continued to radiate from her left shoulder and hip, and though Eos couldn’t hear her from this distance, she sent the mad goddess a mental apology as the spell threatened to simultaneously set her on fire and suck her dry.

“Oof,” Ignis grunted as he hit the cushioned stone and rolled, but he leapt to his feet immediately on seeing her curled up against the wall, his mind flaring with worry. “Rose,” he murmured as he rushed to her side, his gentle hands probing her for injury the moment he fell to his knees.

“What happened?” she heard Noct ask, but her diaphragm was still too tied in knots for her to answer.

“I don’t imagine the floor had quite that much give when she landed,” Ignis answered. _I don’t feel anything broken. What can I do? I imagine our bonded healing wouldn’t work so close to Eos?_

 _I doubt it. Just give me a second._ She’d be able to walk here in a minute, but she fervently hoped that today’s journey wouldn’t be as strenuous as yesterday’s. From the feel of things, she had a few bruised ribs and what felt like a single contusion covering her entire left side, which would make leaping quite a lot of fun.

“You okay, Princess?” Gladio asked.

“Yep!” she said with a cheery grin, sitting up despite Ignis’s protesting hands and pushing aside the dull throb in her side. “So! Continuing on with the whole play theory, that fall could’ve killed you guys.”

“So Ifrit got hurt bad enough to almost die? You think he got infected?” Prompto asked as he bounced up and down on the cushy stone.

“We know the scourge is malarial and DNA-based, which means it isn’t likely passed through touch . . . would’ve been good to know. I’m guessing incubation period in humans is about a month, based on malaria, but I could be wrong.” Laura said. “But these _are_ a different species we’re talking about here, and we’ve seen from my case it’s possible to be infected immediately.”

“So either Ifrit was injured badly enough for the scourge to enter his bloodstream, his species allowed him to get infected that much more quickly, or he was deliberately infected by Eos gone mad?” Ignis said, tilting his head in thought. _Are you certain you’ll be all right?_

_If I weren’t, what would you do? It’s not like you can carry me on your back through a place like this._

_No, but we could camp here another day while you rest._

Using the wall for leverage, Laura shakily rose to her feet, accepting Ignis’s supportive hands instead of getting impatient with his coddling as she normally would. And it was fortunate that she had, as the floor beneath them shuddered violently before hurtling up at breakneck speed, nearly sending her to her feet again before Ignis pulled her to him to keep her steady.

“I’m sorry!” Noct yelled over the turbulent air rushing over their heads. “I just stepped on a block and it pushed down like a button! I didn’t know it would do that!”

“It’s fine,” Laura wheezed around Ignis’s shoulder. “I think Ifrit’s in a hurry now to surface. Eos must be fading fast.” _Hopefully, this will take us all the way,_ she added.

_Indeed._

Ignis only let her go once the floor that was now an elevator lurched to an abrupt halt, and she walked slowly to the ledge, the oppressive dark too deep for even her eyes to penetrate beyond the single beam of metal reaching out into space. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, cocked her head, and began to sing in her loudest, most obnoxious voice with her most terrible, fake French accent.

“Why are we here, what's life all about? Is God really real, or is there some doubt? Well, tonight we're going to sort it all out, for tonight it's the Meaning of Life!”

Listening carefully to where the sound traveled off into nothing or bounced back to her, she deduced it would be another day of jumping and leaping and balancing, but at least this room didn’t have any gravimetric anomalies to contend with.

“What the fuck,” Gladio muttered from behind her.

Prompto let out a little laugh before he said, “I’ve kinda just learned to roll with it, personally.”

_You do realize that it reflects . . . oddly on my own decisions when my wife acts as a madwoman, even if there is a method behind your madness._

_Ah yes, but it’s my goal in life to receive as many ‘are you insane’ looks as possible._

“Hey guys?” Noct called out. “I found all this stuff here: a megalixer, a blue choker, a safety bit, and a silver bangle. All this stuff has to do with keeping someone alive.”

“In a fight for their lives,” Gladio agreed. “Ifrit and Eos are dying, and he’s tryin’ to keep them alive as they escape hell.”

“Well, then, we’re in a hurry to get out of here,” Laura said cheerfully, jumping onto the narrow beam and beckoning them over as she grinned against the grimace that wanted to spread over her face. That wasn’t the best of ideas to leap down like that, but she had a feeling she needed to get used to it. She could practically see Ignis’s frown in her mind’s eye as she skipped off, singing the next verse merrily.

“What's the point of all this hoax? Is it the chicken and the egg time, are we just yolks? Or perhaps we're just one of God's little jokes. Well, ca c'est the Meaning of Life.”

There, a dead-end up ahead, but a blind leap down below. How was any human expected to find that?

_Rose, we could camp right back there, even if only for a few hours._

_Stop your fussing, love. I’ve had to do worse while injured,_ she said gently as she approached the section of rail she was supposed to leap off. Without hesitating, she made the jump onto the barring below, landing more heavily on her right side to minimize the ache that radiated up her left.

“Where’d she go?!” Noct called out. “Did she reset? I didn’t hear a boom. Iggy?”

“I’m down here,” she said, summoning one of her orbs with a groaning whine of magic. The blue illumination blinded her to everything else in the room as she lit it, but at least the boys would be able to see where to jump down to.

“Ugh, does anyone else get that tingly feeling in the backs of their legs when we have to make jumps like this?” Prompto griped before leaping off the rail.

As the other three jumped down, Laura solicited his help in attaching the orb to the old cape fastenings on her back so they could see her the next time she made another blind leap.

And there were a number of blind leaps to be made as she continued to sing, allowing her voice to echo back to her so she could see just where the hell Ifrit or Solheim intended for them to go, “Is life just a game where we make up the rules while we're searching for something to say, or are we just simple spiraling coils of self-replicating DNA-nay-nay-nay-nay-nay?”

“Why the hell do you keep singing that song?” Noct asked when he recovered from his last jump.

Laura gave him a mad grin, wiggling her head back and forth a little as she said, “Helps me see better!”

Of course, that didn’t answer his question in the slightest, but she had always loved the looks the Doctor would get when he gave mad answers for his mad behavior, and there was nothing better for distracting a group of people groping their way through the deep, depressing black than forcing them to contemplate why they were following someone who’d so obviously lost it. Even Ignis, who knew so well what she was doing that he could’ve used the technique himself, was amused with her antics, as he claimed he would’ve found something more appropriate to shout into the dark. She, however, disagreed. For all that the song had been sung to a silly tune in a horrible impression of a French accent, it was rather serious and apropos to their situation.

“What is life? What is our fate? Is there a Heaven and Hell? Do we reincarnate? Is mankind evolving or is it too late? Well tonight, here's the Meaning of Life.”

Fortunately, their path became an enclosed hallway by the time she detected that refracted bend in space that indicated another journey through wonky gravity. Given the lack of precarious ledges this time, she decided that the stakes were low enough to keep her boots on as she skipped through the dark metal rooms, up walls and ceilings, only slowing when she felt one of the boys’ minds lag behind.

But there, [claw marks](https://i.imgur.com/eTwqau5.png) seeping with scourge along the wall, [drag marks](https://i.imgur.com/acIKXBR.png) along the floor. Nearly tripping over her feet in an effort to stop before she passed them, Laura winced at the ache in her side.

Running gentle fingers just shy of the claw marks, imagining what Ifrit must have gone through just to be labeled a traitor by history, imagining what Eos must have gone through only to be forgotten, she said softly, “For millions, this life is a sad vale of tears, sitting ‘round with rien—nothing to say while scientists say we're just simply spiraling coils of self-replicating DNA.”

“It must have been terrifying for him, down in this disorienting place as he tried to claw his way back up to the sun,” Ignis said quietly as he stared at the scratch marks. “I wonder if he even knew what was happening to them.”

“Looks like things’re gettin’ worse for our heroes,” Gladio remarked as his light fell on what had caught her interest.

“I think I know how this ends,” Noct said. “Ravatogh’s not far away.”

“And just think—that’s like, your great-great-great-greaaaat grandmother,” Prompto said, squinting in thought. “Hey, does that mean you and Lady Lunafreya are related, too?”

Laura rolled her eyes as Noct widened his in horror. Humans. “How many Lucian kings have there been? One-hundred and fourteen? That’s quite a few generations removed. But even after all those generations, there’s still enough divine blood running through those veins of yours that you and I never solved our energy compatibility issues.”

“Still kinda weird to think about,” Noct mumbled, shaking his head.

Ignis turned toward the hall that continued up toward the surface. “Then don’t think about it. Let’s go.”

 _Are you in a hurry to get going now?_ she teased. _I thought you were eager to camp down here, start hanging up curtains._

 _You’re hiding how much pain you’re in,_ he snapped. _The sooner we leave this place, the sooner you’ll rest and recuperate, perhaps even bathe in those hot springs we found by the runway._

As she led them out of the dark hall and onto the previously-unexplored upper levels of the room with the five immortality doors, she replied with a hint of a warning in her tone, _I don’t see the point in staying here another day when I’m perfectly fine to go forward. I don’t want to be here any longer than any of you do._

Upon entering the lighted room, she stopped suddenly, taking a few more steps forward to prevent Prompto from skidding into her back.

“Whoa, warn a guy next time,” he laughed.

“Sorry,” she said, reaching around to the back of her neck to unclip her orb. “I don’t like being a spotlight for any longer than I can help. Dunno how you guys do it, wandering around in the dark with spotlights attached to you that practically scream, ‘LOOK AT ME’!”

“Well, we kinda need ‘em to see, you know?”

“Yeah, but you also attract every daemon around for miles. Bet we’d hardly ever run into one if you guys weren’t putting on a disco show. Anyway, messes with my perception filter too, in case I ever need to sneak around. Bad thing about it is I can’t draw attention to myself, or it doesn’t work.”

As she spoke, her attention slid behind Prompto to where Ignis was balancing on a metal beam that stuck out perpendicular to the walkway. _What is it?_ she asked when he reached the end of the somewhat flimsy rod, where a pile of grey fabric was dangling from the end.

“Warm inners,” he said, lifting the suit carefully so it wouldn’t catch on the sharp ends of the beam. “These could be useful, indeed.”

“Looks like Ifrit needed protection against the cold. Guess his wife sided against him in this fight,” Gladio noted.

“That’s not terribly surprising,” Laura said as Ignis made it back to the walkway, and they started forward again. “When it comes to the gods, love and favor tends to be fickle in the face of danger.”

 _That hasn’t been my experience,_ Ignis said with a swell of affection and irritation in equal measure. _Mine seems to be quite hardheaded when it comes to putting herself in danger._

Laura took a running leap to the top of one of the pillars, looking down over the first room they had made a mess of only yesterday. They had to be getting close to getting out of here. The sun would be setting in a few hours, and they hadn’t stopped to take a break since they left their camping spot early that morning. Everyone, including Laura, was tiring, and though they’d all drastically improved at making the jumps over the chasms, the deaths would likely start coming soon if they didn’t find a place to rest. She might have been spared the horror of feeling them die in this strange place, but that didn’t mean that each time wasn’t a nauseating, heart-stabbing experience.

 _I always told you I wasn’t a goddess, and there’s your proof. Divinity is not a thing to be lauded,_ she answered, though she knew from his recent experiences with the gods that he was well-aware of this by now.

It seemed Pitioss wasn’t quite ready to set them free, however, as they were made to flit among the ceilings of the first two rooms—back and forth, playing with switches and puzzles until all of them, even Ignis, had died at least once. Once Prompto had fallen off the same pillar for the third time, Laura put her foot down, insisting that they all rest with a snack while she finished up these pointless errands that teased her with the promise of freedom but never delivered. Ignis, of course, insisted on accompanying her in her ‘fragile condition,’ but despite her frustration at his insistence, his speed and training would allow them to complete the task more quickly than the five of them together. Not to mention, her victory simply wasn’t worth the fight she would have to put up to keep him there.

Laura felt his fingers grasp for her right hand the very second they had turned the corner and pull her to him. Letting go to grasp her head, he pressed his lips to hers forcefully, over and over, as she hooked her fingers through his belt loops and pulled him closer.

 _You. Are. **Utterly.** Frustrating, _ he said between kisses before letting her go and gesturing her forward. _I just don’t want to lose you._

 _And you won’t,_ she said, leaping on top of a pillar that led back to the immortality doors, depressing a switch that did gods only knew what, and making the next jump. _I’ve been around awhile. Odds are pretty good I still will be._

Their conversation ceased as they continued to work together, their minds reduced to sending only the images necessary to communicate the next step in their progress. It was long, frustrating work as they flitted back and forth between the two rooms, up and down stairs, traversing dark halls, and stepping on more switches. Still, he seemed to work more efficiently when he didn’t have Noct to worry about.

“You realize,” he said as he picked up the insulated inners that indicated Ramuh’s involvement in this dark endeavor and dismissed them to the armiger, “that if Solheim was the progenitor of the Time Lords, their actions here don’t exactly paint them in a favorable light.”

“I think it’s time to get the others,” she said pointing to the elevator they’d discovered before turning back toward the main room where they’d left the group. “And . . . it wouldn’t be the first time. The Doctor once had to do something . . . unspeakable to stop them from destroying all of existence, every universe. They certainly weren’t always benevolent guardians of the multiverse.”

The curiosity burning in his mind prickled at their bond, but this was one thing she would never share. It was one thing to be responsible for the death of an entire planet due to honest failure, but quite another matter to be the one to actively murder an entire planet to save the multiverse. It had taken _years_ for James to say the words out loud, even if she’d long ago guessed what he’d had to do, and she’d sworn to him that she’d never tell another soul—not even her second soulmate.

“Hey guys, this way!” she called down the two flights of stone stairs. “Knocked out one of those daemon face things, so you should just be able to walk on up!”

Once the other three had joined them on the elevator platform, Laura pressed the switch, smiling a little when Ignis’s hands moved to hover over her biceps but stopped short of touching her outright. It was probably for the best, as gripping her arms like that would’ve definitely hurt her left arm more than the embrace had.

Light flooded the little block cell when the elevator jerked to a halt, and though Laura and the others closed their eyes and breathed in a lungful of fresh, clean air, reveling in the sensation of the warm, afternoon sun on their faces, the corner of her mind couldn’t help but grow concerned at the pile of black fabric near their way out.

“I know we didn’t come all this way for a barred window,” Noct growled impatiently, striding forward until he stood in the archway before coming to a sudden halt. “Oh. It’s just the fence outside. Thank gods. We can leave from here.”

“What’s that ya got there?” Gladio asked as Noct picked up the fabric at his feet, running it through his fingers until he found two corners to hold up in front of him.

“It’s a black hood,” Noct said grimly.

“Of death,” Ignis added.

A pall of mourning settled over all the minds in the room like heavy fog as they realized what this meant.

“So just why, why are we here? And just what, what, what, what do we fear? Well ce soir, for a change, it will all be made clear, for this is the Meaning of Life - c'est le sens de la vie—this is the Meaning of Life,” Laura finished in a whisper.

“She got [one last view of the sun](https://i.imgur.com/BX475ti.png) before she died,” Prompto whispered, his glistening eyes settling on the late afternoon sun peeking through the archway.

Noct walked closer to the edge, gesturing for the four of them to crowd into the small space so they could look out over the landscape. Looming over them was the [Rock of Ravatogh](https://i.imgur.com/yl7D1FE.png), with the glowing embers of Ifrit’s horns still sending hazy, blue-grey clouds of smoke, ash, and photophilic particles into the atmosphere, corrupting the warm golden glow of the afternoon light—and next to him, the petrified wing of Eos rising to the sky.

“He didn’t make it far with her before Bahamut put ‘em both down,” Gladio growled.

“And just think. All this time he’s been called a traitor, and he was actually the good guy,” Prompto added quietly.

“And this was the only way he could tell his side of the story,” Laura said. “But if Ardyn’s done something to one of his Messenger bodies, his luck hasn’t changed much. I bet he’s been scourged again. That plague has a mind control element that’s nasty to fight. Even I might’ve succumbed if my shields weren’t so strong from being telepathically attacked so frequently.”

“Why do you think Eos didn’t just go into a Messenger body then?” Prompto asked.

Laura shook her head. “Could be several reasons. Maybe the Six had her Messengers killed to keep her from escaping hell. Maybe her symbiotic relationship with the star would be broken if she migrated to another body. I’m afraid I don’t know how this all works.”

“But you said she’s still alive down there, right? Like, her mind?” Noct asked.

“Yeah. She’s half-mad down there with sickness and suffering. But she and the Crystal keep the sun rising, keep the star burning in space.”

“But she’s dying, right?” Gladio asked. “After we handle this Ardyn and plague shit blockin’ out the sun, we gotta deal with this somehow. Put her out of her misery and keep the sun burning.”

“Yeah,” Noct agreed. “One thing at a time though. Just hope she can hold out.”

Ignis held her back for a moment as the other three jumped down, and casting his troubled eyes out toward the Rock, he pulled her close, careful not to squeeze her left side. Laura nuzzled her face into his warm, hard chest, breathing in the scent of dust, sweat, and him as she wrapped her arms around his narrow waist in comfort. He’d been quiet since they’d discovered the black hood, but his mindscape had been a seething storm of fear and heartache disproportionate to the story they’d just been told. She didn’t understand, and he wasn’t giving away the answers.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked.

“There are too many similarities. I—” His words choked off before he swallowed and continued in a stronger voice. “That’s not you, is it? This isn’t somehow a twisted history of you and me, is it? Please, tell me it isn’t.”

He finally opened his mind fully to what he’d been thinking—life finds a way. He’d imagined the two of them somehow getting whisked away to the past, managing to get her pregnant, founding the Caelum and Fleuret lines, then meeting a gruesome end at the hands of the Six. The longer he’d stood in that mockery of a prison, the more it had made sense to him.

“Gods, _no_ , Ignis,” she breathed, twisting her neck to look up at him. She stood up on her toes to kiss his filthy throat, her lips resting against his pounding pulse before she pulled back to explain, “First of all, I told you, I don’t form symbiotic relationships with stars like that. Second of all, this ‘Goddess of Life’ is ironically barren, so you can dispel your horrific nightmares of fathering the founding families and that being my burning corpse down there.”

“Thank the stars,” he sighed, pulling her head back into his chest so he could rest his lips in her hair. “We’re already poised to lose everything in this war. I don’t think I could bear to continue if . . ..” He let out another sigh, this one deeper, before saying, “At least I did manage to obtain some personal vindication on this journey. If my parents live, they’ll be glad to hear what I’ve learned, even if no one would believe it. Of course, with this new information regarding Solheim, I may have just cast us right back into infamy.”

“Have you been keeping this from me? What are you talking about?”

“Ignis Scientia was the founding member of my family, or so my mother told me in her letters. The name was given to him by Ifrit himself in the establishment of the Solheimian Empire as a gift—along with the knowledge of fire. Of course, he likely didn’t know what the name meant any more than I did. I’m told the family fell out of favor because of Ifrit’s betrayal, but that wasn’t what happened, was it?”

“Solheim and the other Five betrayed _him_ , but if your family survived, they must have remained loyal.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, nodding. “Otherwise, he likely wouldn’t have participated in the divine naming ceremony over the generations.”

“You _have_ been holding out on me. What’s this?”

“When a couple in House Scientia bears their first child, they pray to Ifrit, who answers with the child’s first name. I was the first Ignis Scientia since the founding member of my house. My mother was quite proud of that fact. It was one of the first things she told me when we began exchanging letters. Of course, he stopped communicating with anyone after that. He was likely scourged, or something equally horrible, by the Chancellor around the time the Glacian was murdered, I’d wager.”

Laura turned her head against Ignis’s chest, looking out toward the Rock along with him. What could Ifrit have intended by giving him a name that was so obviously special to their family history? He _was_ special on this planet, even special for his species—magically powerful, quick-witted, and Intuitive. Perhaps Ifrit thought such a gifted child needed a talisman for these troubled times. Perhaps he was marking Ignis in some way as a harbinger of change, a dawn of a new era for mankind as it had been with the first Ignis Scientia. Only time would tell.

“Hey, nerds!” they heard Noct’s voice call up. “Stop analyzing the bricks up there or whatever and get down here! Found an [almanac](https://i.imgur.com/4YfJiF3.png) we missed yesterday. Looks like we were right about the whole Solheimian training grounds thing.”

Ignis rolled his eyes as she pulled back and grinned up at him, brushing his soft, wilted bangs from his sweaty, gritty brow. “Come on. If we call the chickens, we can make it to those hot springs in time to get a bath before the sun sets. You’re filthy.”

“ _You’re_ one to talk,” he muttered before she jumped down.

***

“Damn, Princess,” Gladio breathed as she came out from behind her boulder in her swimsuit. “You look like you lost a round with a molokujata.”

There was no sense hiding the nearly solid mottling of purple and green that covered almost her entire left side, as they were all going to see it and make a comment at some point during this communal bath of theirs. Sending silent, reassuring thoughts in response to Ignis’s dismay at the sight of her, she stepped into the warm water, breathing in the soft curls of mineral steam and digging her toes into the coarse sand as she waded deeper in. The warm water seemed to instantly seep down to her bones so that the last two days were nearly washed away by the time she reached the flat rock in the center of the small spring, where Ignis had already set dishes out for dinner. Letting her eyes linger for a moment on the soaking wet, black t-shirt that clung to his abs and muscular chest, she came to stand in front of her table setting, amused that he, of all people, was still too shy to go shirtless like the rest of the boys.

“It’s too bad it won’t stick around after tonight,” she replied lightly. “I could use it for pity points with you guys.”

 _You think that oven-roasted trout would be good tonight?_ she asked.

Ignis furrowed his brow, frowning down at her from under the rims of his glasses. _What will you eat?_

 _I’ve got a few things I made back in Miriásia,_ she said, summoning the trout for the four of them before pulling out her own tofu bibimbap. _I felt like my dietary restrictions were holding you back too much._

She had nearly finished summoning the things for tea when he replied, _You don’t, you know. You never have. This group could always stand to eat more vegetables._

“All right, so that crazy ass song you been singing all day—you gonna tell us now?” Gladio asked when she’d poured the hot water to steep the first mug. “What’s the meaning of life?”

Laura let the water steep for about ten seconds before pouring the black liquid into the first cup. Shou puerh wasn’t necessarily the best served western style, but everyone needed the additional hydration, and the flavors went well with what they were all having this evening. Starting on the second mug, she answered, "Try and be nice to people, avoid eating fat, read a good book every now and then, get some walking in, and try and live together in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations . . . or the number forty-two. It really depends on who you ask.”

“Huh, might be better advice than you think. Woulda avoided this whole thing,” he replied, sweeping a hand back in the direction of the ruins they’d just left. “Maybe the shit back in Insomnia, too.” Picking up his mug, he took a quick sip of his tea before pulling back abruptly with a grimace. Lifting the mug closer to his face, he inspected the black liquid closely before leaning over the rim to take a deep sniff.

“What the hell is this stuff?”

Laura quirked her lips up into a smirk. She knew he’d be interested in this one, even if she didn’t know which way his opinion would fall—most people either found it amazing or absolutely disgusting. “It’s tea, babe.”

“It’s . . . weird,” Prompto said, sticking his tongue out. “Sorry,” he added sheepishly. Well, that was one down, but Prompto didn’t really care all that much for tea to begin with. She was pretty sure he just drank it to humor her, because he was always sweet like that.

“It looks like coffee,” Noct said under his breath as he peered into his cup. “I dunno how I feel about it.”

“Did you . . . I dunno, accidentally drop a couch and some books in here? Tastes like my dad’s library,” Gladio said before licking the roof of his mouth awkwardly and setting his mug down. “Might wanna keep this one outta the rotation for me.”

“It _tastes_ like a library?” Ignis asked animatedly, leaning forward as his expression brightened. He gestured toward Laura’s mug, which had just finished steeping. “May I try some of yours?”

“Here, just take mine,” Gladio said, handing his mug over the boulder that was serving as their table before digging into his fish.

“It’s fermented,” she said to Gladio as Ignis took a sip. “It’s supposed to taste like that.”

“This is _brilliant_!” Ignis ejected, and the entire table turned to look at him in surprise. “Apologies,” he continued in a more subdued tone.  “It’s just that I feel as though I am actually sitting in the Royal Library at the long wooden tables on a hot summer afternoon, thumbing through an ancient text. I can smell it on the exhale: the wood, the leather, the old paper.”

“Wow, Igs,” Prompto said. “Never seen you actually like the tea Laura serves.”

“Well, I’ve always enjoyed it, but you’re correct that I do prefer coffee.”

Laura lay back once they’d finished their meal, watching the sky transform as she scrubbed the kithairon shampoo from her hair and let the warmth of the water ease the ache in her side. Though her head was submerged up to her face, the muffled splashes, screams, and laughs of Gladio, Noct, and Prompto resounded in her ears as the sound carried through the water. Ignis’s mind was closer to her—quiet, but industrious, and she raised her head to see him carefully inspecting one of his boots, with a wet rag in one hand and five different bottles of shoe powder laid out on the boulder in front of him.

 _Stop,_ she said, letting her feet drift back down to the sandy bottom and wading over to him. When he froze and looked up at her, his brow pulling down in concern, she nodded up to the sky. _These moments last only fifteen minutes at the most, and you’re missing it._

His mind fell silent in that way she adored when his bright green eyes followed her gaze, and he parted his lips to inhale sharply as he took in the sight she’d indicated.

The orange ball of fire hung low in the sky, casting the rocks below in a dusky purple shadow, but the ground wasn’t the view that had captured his attention and froze his mind in wonder. The entire expanse of sky above them was dotted with [altocumulus clouds](http://www.atmo.arizona.edu/students/courselinks/spring08/atmo336s1/courses/spring18/atmo170a1s1/1S1P_stuff/scattering_of_light/red_clouds_sunset.jpg), which caught the light from the setting sun and reflected the colors back in shining gold, orange, red, purple, and blue. As the sun continued to sink behind the high rocks, she stood shoulder to shoulder next to him, the comforting scent of his soap pouring off him as they both stared, feeling small beneath the infinite canvas of color stretching over their heads.

Dropping her eyes down, she was presented with a sight that was, to her, just as wondrous—Ignis’s face pointed straight up at the stars that were just beginning to come out, his mouth and eyes open wide with awe, the angle accentuating the sleek lines of his jaw and neck. The color of the setting sun reflected in the blonde highlights of his hair and those viridian eyes rimmed with thick black lashes, setting his entire face aglow. Even his skin was flushed a dusky orange in the diminishing light, and she wanted for nothing more than to reach out and pull his parted lips to hers, if only to thank him for being there to share this moment with her.

He must have caught her train of thought, for he looked down suddenly, his expression growing tender as he inclined his head to gaze into her eyes. At the feel of his mind growing warm with affection and dark with arousal, she began to step away, expressing her reciprocated feelings but reminding him that the others were merely feet away, growing quieter as they one by one noticed what the two of them had been staring at.

She made to take a step back—it was time they got going anyway, with the sun beginning to set like this. But before she could take another step back, he dropped his boot on the boulder and lunged for her, cradling her jaw in both of his soft, bare hands and leaning down to part her lips with his. He’d been drinking coffee as he worked, and the bitter taste of it flooded her mouth as he tilted her head back for better access. Shocked at his public display—after all, it wasn’t as though he didn’t know the others were right behind her, she didn’t move beyond kissing him back as he drank her in, but gods, he tasted so _good_.

Three stunned minds had gone completely silent by the time he pulled away with the smallest of smacking sounds, his fingertips seeming to linger against her skin as they feathered down the line of her jaw before returning to his sides.

 _Thank you,_ he said simply.

 _Umm, no,_ she managed to stammer. _Thank **you**_. _Not that I mind, because you’ll never catch me complaining about you kissing me anywhere, but what brought this on?_

 _To remind them why we’re fighting,_ he replied with a mysterious smile, nodding to where the other three stood behind them, and given the distinct lack of any splashing, they were likely still frozen in shock. _And because I wanted to._

His cheeks were still flushed as he said this, so he was obviously experiencing some embarrassment over what he’d done, but that was just fine with her. She could let him lead in matters of public displays and still get to see that pink spread over those aristocratic features of his.

 _Hmm,_ she hummed in pleasure as she stepped back from him and began dismissing his shoe powders, _I approve of this change._

 _I thought you might_ , he replied with a smirk.

_You’re a cocky bastard, you know that?_

_I’ve heard that it takes one to know one, love._

Laura reached back to feel for Noct’s mind—there was no way Ignis would do this if it hadn’t been brought up in whatever conversation they’d had last night. Noct had been difficult to read since she’d returned; his thoughts were mostly clouded over with his usual blanket of depression shot through with the occasional sharp spear of mourning. But feeling him now, his mind was a muddled mess of pain, resignation, pride, love, and the sort of isolation that always came with the mantle of the Chosen.

“Come on you guys, we gotta head back before it gets dark,” Noct said. “I don’t wanna get stuck fighting yojimbos back to the haven.”

“We just gonna drive around for a day or two before we call Umbra?” Prompto asked as he waded out of the water.

“Yeah,” Noct said. “Thought maybe we could make it back to Caem and fish or chill on the beach. That okay with the time thing, Laura?”

“Sure,” she said with a shrug. “We can call Umbra from there, no problem.”

***

She thought it would be fun and relaxing, hanging out on the beach with this new family of hers and watching Ignis’s tension ease as she pulled him off for secret kisses and adventures. But as Saracchian carried her over the rocky cliff faces and the magic of Solheim reluctantly receded from her mind like dough from a dough hook, the skin of the rest of Lucis reared up in her head—bristling, sparking, torn open in both time in space as though some sort of primitive species had just learned the art of time and interdimensional travel.

As the knots of a paradox seemed to blossom behind her eyes in the form of a headache, she gritted her teeth and managed to say, “Change of plans, guys. Looks like we’ve got some errands to run.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to point out yet again that this should not be considered canon lore. I used Perona77’s [Pitioss Theory](https://www.reddit.com/r/FFXV/comments/5t367b/pitioss_ruins_revelations/) and mixed that in with Final Fantasy Peasant’s [Solheim Theory](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Py7Ai5EVBtc) , [Ardyn Theory](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVbYgJ5FngI), and [Pitioss Theory](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jh0GRk_yGyM). I found a number of things wrong in their analyses that I had to change, even since my first draft, and this theory has definitely been denied by SE. So this is all pretty much an amalgam of Perona77, FFPeasant, the FFXV Discord server, and my work. From here on out though, what it means for the rest of the story, will be all my own interpretation.
> 
> I’ve seen the 3D file render of Eos, and she is indeed holding a katana. The “shackles” around her neck are most likely jewelry, but I changed them to make this story fit. I even had to do a bit of stretching with timelines to make this work. I’m sure even more will prove to be non-canon when Episode Ardyn comes out; I’m already throwing out the idea that Ardyn was imprisoned for 2000 years. However, that doesn’t reduce the entertainment value of the theory at all to me. Perona and Pez all did an incredible job with this. 
> 
> Interesting to note, Rose Tyler really did go to Japan with the Doctor in 1336, but as it was an event that occurred off screen, who knows what she actually did there?
> 
> It seemed no one could figure out which sons Eos had with Cephalus, so these are the three you’re getting.
> 
> “Meaning of Life” from Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life. 
> 
> Easter Egg: Ignis’s fear of Eos and Cephalus being Laura and Ignis was a plot I was considering for about a day before deciding it would be too easy to guess (and too sad!).


	66. Chapter 66

Four car doors slammed shut, and Prompto leaned against his with a sigh. It wasn’t like he was tired at all—just bored—since he hadn’t had to do anything but stand around listening to Iggy and Laura come up with wild theories about a switch-gate thingy all day and wait for Noct to come back. But leaning forward so he could catch sight of Noct over Laura, Prompto could see that Noct looked about ready to pass out.

“Where is the next tear located?” Iggy asked as he started the car.

“Um . . .,” Laura trailed off, sitting up so she was between Gladio and Iggy. She pointed off toward the northeast before saying, “That way.”

“’ _That way?’”_ he asked in disbelief before growing quieter. “Could you perhaps be more specific?”

“If I could, don’t you think I would? We’re lucky I’m aware of these tears in the universe at all. It doesn’t come with a fracking GPS, or whatever nav system you’re using without satellites.”

“I suppose you have a point,” he huffed, putting the car in drive. “Very well. ‘That way,’ it is.”

Prompto had to admit—he’d kinda missed this . . . being back on their home turf, Iggy and Laura arguing about stupid stuff without actually getting mad, getting into the kinda trouble that was just dangerous enough to be interesting, camping, and driving around. It was pretty fun being on the road with the four of them, like old times. But now it was even better, because they knew who he was now, and everything had gone completely back to normal right after he’d said it, like it’d never happened. Sure, the world was about to end if they didn’t do something about it right this second, but the world was gonna end soon anyway, so what else was new? At least none of them were dying or killing people, and he got to be his real self, like he was a part of a real family.

“Good,” Noct muttered. “You guys done arguing? I need some shuteye after all that.”

Laura whipped her head in his direction. “Oh, no you don’t. All you’ve told us so far is that you and a chick named Sarah helped take out ‘some bad chick.’ That can’t be all the intel you gathered.”

Lifting his shoulder in a half shrug, Noct said, “I dunno. There were these Hiso aliens. What species calls themselves ‘alien,’ anyway? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Think you’d be used to anything by now,” Gladio said. “Been travelin’ with an alien for months.”

“These were different. Small and white and weird—even weirder than usual.”

“Yeah, I know the Hiso—world builders in other universes, dead useful,” Laura said with a nod. “They solicit clients in the real estate market to complete or refurbish infrastructure on abandoned planets. They've forgotten where they're from originally, so they've gotten used to calling themselves alien on any planet where they work. _Fascinating_ language, too—consists of one word and is completely tonal.”

Noct sat up suddenly, his eyes going wide. “Yeah! They said something about that. A great tree or something wanted them to finish the world. There were all these old ruins.”

“And did these ruins happen to be Solheimian in origin? Though the pattern on the [gate](https://i.imgur.com/SS7eV1T.png) was pictographic rather than orthographic in nature, the gate itself and its power source were certainly Solheimian in nature,” Iggy said.

“Uh . . . yeah, I guess,” Noct shrugged. “There were all those [columns](https://i.imgur.com/fJ4BwU6.png) and red veiny stuff on the walls like Steyliff and Costlemark, that [circle writing](https://i.imgur.com/A7ZShHU.png) on the bricks, and the arena where the Eroder was kinda looked like Costlemark. I dunno, I was kinda too busy to stop and check out the architecture, and my usual geek squad was unavailable.”

“Next time, it would behoove you to wait for the rest of us before jumping on unidentified ancient technology. But if your assessment can be relied upon, it would seem the Solheim Empire did indeed escape to that world and begin their civilization anew.”

“You really think we’re the ones responsible for turning on these dimension gate thingies?” Prompto asked.

“Had to have been. We hit every gods damn switch in that hellhole,” Gladio said. “Solheim tech in there, Solheim tech out here.”

“I just don’t get how it’s gonna end the world if we don’t do something about it. Why can’t we just let aliens hang out here? Thought you, of all people, would be into that kinda thing, Laura.”

“I’d be all for it if there weren’t a dangerous plague, the sun dying, and this paradox if we don’t do something about it,” Laura answered.

“Thought Umbra’s amulet was s’posed to prevent paradoxes,” Gladio said.

“It’s supposed to prevent us from _creating_ paradoxes. This apparently had always happened, was supposed to happen. We’d always fixed it, we just didn’t know it. Why do you think Gentiana gave us the amulet in the first place? It couldn’t have just been for us to go to Pitioss then have a nice vacation from saving the world.”

“That woulda been nice, actually,” Noct mumbled, closing his eyes as he rested his head in the crook of his elbow.

Prompto rubbed at his temples, trying to clear the ache building underneath his skull. He really did want to understand just what the hell they were doing, but this time stuff never really made any sense to him. It was just like this thing with Cindy he was going through now—she was just so smart. All those mechanical engineering books she’d sent him were really hard to understand, and he’d always been the kinda guy who learned better when it was hands-on.

Maybe when they got back, he could hang out in Hammerhead a little, have her teach him more about working on cars. Maybe he could even make a career of it; it wasn’t like Noct was gonna be able to use his skills full-time building a new government. He’d help, sure, but he couldn’t be as good as Iggy or Gladio, or even Laura, at that kinda stuff.

Pulling out his phone, he opened the messenger app to text Cindy, but paused. He knew so little about mechanical energy sources compared to her. What if his idea was stupid? She’d think he was stupid by extension and would never want to speak to him again.

He decided to sit on the idea for a couple of minutes, let it marinate while he confused himself with this more pressing topic. Putting his phone back in his pocket, he said, “I don’t get how letting some alien gates open around Eos is gonna cause a paradox.”

“Because Ignis and I are about to meet Ardyn on the altar in Altissia. If Ardyn gets word that aliens exist, he might not believe I’m Shiva any longer and kill us outright, instead of what he did. Maybe then the map wouldn’t be right enough to lead you to Pitioss, or you might not hit the right switch while you’re there, meaning you don’t open all the gates. Then Ardyn doesn’t believe aliens exist, and we make it through Altissia. The causal nexus is broken, and the world ends,” Laura answered.

“As it seems to be in danger of doing every other day,” Ignis remarked casually as Laura leaned forward to point him to the left, off the dirt path and in the direction that would take them past Fort Vaullerey. “Sometimes I wonder how the world managed to get by before it was left in our capable hands.”

“Well, this time, _we_ were the ones who broke the world. The skin of the universe grows thin, making you vulnerable not just to getting sucked out of this world through these gates, but invasions, too.”

“Great, like we don’t have enough to deal with,” Noct complained.

“Which is why we must take care of it now, and keep a weather eye out for any anomalies,” Iggy said.

Prompto leaned back into his seat, letting the bright sunshine beat down on his head and the wind blow his hair back as Iggy cruised through southern Cleigne into southern Duscae—apparently no longer needing directions out loud from Laura anymore. He pulled out his camera to get a couple shots of the glowing blue shards bridging the rift of Taelpar Crag, but that only reminded him about the thing he wanted to text Cindy. Pulling out his phone again, he let his thumbs hover over the buttons, at a loss for how to bring it up. He bit his lip in frustration, looking up to try and figure out if any of the others would be good for some advice. From the looks of it, Gladio was buried in a book—he’d be no help right now. Noct was already fast asleep and probably wouldn’t be good for this kind of thing anyway.

He could immediately see that Laura and Iggy weren’t available for this, but he took a minute to watch their expressions change as their eyes periodically met in the mirror. They’d been a lot less secretive about their telepathic thingy since Altissia, and judging by the looks on their faces now, they were deep in some kinda serious conversation with each other—either about this paradox thing or the Solheim thing. Prompto didn’t see why they were so interested in the fact Solheim had set up shop on a new world at some point, but he often got the feeling there was more going on behind the scenes with those two than any of them knew.

Prompto traded his phone for his camera again when the arches and the Disc of Cauthess came into view—or, he guessed the Sundial of Cauthess, if Laura and Iggy were to be believed. He had just put his camera away and was about to resign himself to sending this stupid text no matter what when Laura turned to him, bumping her shoulder with his.

“What’s got you so restless today?”

As she leaned into his side, he put his arm around her and sighed. Why couldn’t talking to Cindy be as easy as it was talking to Laura? He guessed Laura didn’t make him feel queasy and jittery and stupid like Cindy did. And it was really cool that Iggy never got all weird when they hung out like this together. It seemed like she’d needed human contact since she’d come back, and holding her made him feel . . . useful, helpful.

“I dunno,” he sighed, shrugging a shoulder. “I had this idea for Cindy’s headlights, and I wanna tell her, but . . . it’s probably stupid.”

“What kind of idea?”

“Well, she’s tryin’ to make these high-intensity discharge lamp thingies for all the cars, made from metallic salts, so they’re strong enough to scare off the daemons, but she’s not having much luck.”

“So what did you come up with?” she asked, looking up at him with a soft smile.

“I was thinkin’ . . . meteor shards as a power source—in each car. You know, like, tiny ones? Is that dumb?”

“Not at all,” Iggy said suddenly. “In fact, it’s rather brilliant. From what I understand of the process, there’s always meteor waste left over once the shards have been trimmed down to fit the Exineris machinery that powers the plant.”

“And if meteor shards can power a city, bet they’d be powerful enough to handle a headlight,” Gladio added as he turned a page.

“And Holly and Cindy are best friends. Send the text to both of them,” Laura said.

“Really?” he asked, grimacing. It was embarrassing enough exposing his ideas to one girl, but two at the same time?

Gladio put his book down and turned all the way around in his seat to look back at them. “Oh yeah, you get in with a girl’s best friend, you’re totally in.”

“Here,” Iggy said, pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket and handing it back to Laura. “Holly’s number will be in the contacts list.”

After typing in the numbers Laura read out to him, Prompto let the excitement from everyone’s approval override his nerves as he tapped out his text.

***

“So there’s a hole in time and space . . . here?” Noct asked in disbelief as they pulled up to the gas pumps at the Cauthess Rest Station under the shade of stone arches hovering high over their heads.

As Prompto got out of the car and turned in a slow circle, he could see why Noct sounded so skeptical. Between the rusty warehouses; the greenish, worn-down buildings that kinda looked like hotels but seemed abandoned; and of course, that famous Lucian institution—the Crow’s Nest Diner, with its chipped and faded paint and creepy ass bird sitting on the bench outside . . . everything looked completely, boringly normal.

“Nearby,” she said, narrowing her eyes down the road the way they came.

“Well, you think the world can hold itself together while we get somethin’ to eat?” Gladio asked.

“Oooh! Crow’s Nest! Can we eat at the diner?” Prompto added, bouncing on his toes.

Iggy frowned over at Laura as he unscrewed the gas cap. “Though I’m also famished, perhaps I should make something at the camper or pull something out of our stores. The menu here is quite limited.”

“Nah, don’t worry about me!” Laura said, grinning. “They have my favorite here!”

“Kenny’s fries!” Noct crowed, reaching up to give her an enthusiastic high five.

“Very well, then,” Ignis said as he reached for the gas pump. “I happen to enjoy their salmon, so as long as you’re satisfied with that as your lunch . . ..”

“Wait, you’re not gonna give her hell for that?” Noct asked.

“I don’t see why I should. I have no objections to the occasional meal of junk food, particularly as her diet is already so heavy in vegetables.”

Laura glowered at the both of them, crossing her arms and leaning into her hip as she said, “By all means, you two, continue to stand around discussing a grown woman’s diet like you have any control over it.”

Noct had flung a hand up to point at Iggy, his mouth opening to argue, but Gladio interrupted. “All right, we’ll go inside and order for ya. Fries for the lady and salmon for Ig. Anything else?”

As Laura shook her head, Ignis said, “No, thank you Gladio. This will take but a minute.”

“Gotcha. Come on, Sleepy, Spazzy,” he said, cuffing Prompto around the back of his neck and pulling him toward the door.

As Prompto slid into the cushy red vinyl booth at the far end of the diner, he took a deep breath of that humid, oily air that seemed to cling to the back of his throat, reminding him of the fries he used to eat every day as a kid back in Insomnia. There was just something about a Crow’s Nest—it didn’t matter which one—the ads for disgusting foods that thankfully weren’t on the menu, like Invincible Oats and Splatz tomato jelly; that same damn song with its weird combination of harmonica and organ playing over and over that Laura said reminded her of zydeco, whatever that was; all the worn kitchen appliances for a kitchen with only two food items on the menu; even the guy that always seemed to be sitting on one of the stools at the counter by the door.

He absolutely loved this place.

“Salmon, fries, and Jetty’s all around?” Gladio asked, glancing at the menu.

“You know you’re gonna get a beer,” Noct teased. “Get Laura a tea, too.”

“Yeah, you got it,” he waved over his shoulder and sauntered toward the cook, but the cook was busy talking to the guy who had his head down at the end of the counter.

“You sure you’re okay there, mister?” the cook asked.

“Yeah,” the dark-haired man said, lifting his head just enough to give him a wide, toothy smile and an exaggerated wink. “One too many hypervodkas last night, if ya know what I mean.”

“Well, just let me know when yer ready to order,” he said before turning to Gladio. “What can I getcha?”

“You think we’re gonna have time to get in some JM Five?” Prompto asked Noct, who was staring out the smudged and filmy window at Iggy and Laura.

“Probably not. We don’t have a lotta time to take care of this, and we don’t know when Umbra’s gonna take us back to in Altissia. Can’t miss our train,” he said without tearing his eyes away from his view outside. In a quieter voice, he added, “It’s just so . . . weird. Their lips aren’t even moving.”

Prompto looked out the big picture window in time to see Laura’s eyes shoot up to Iggy’s, a slow, flirty smile spreading over her face. After a few seconds of them staring at each other, Iggy looked away, shaking his head and laughing. Yeah, their thing was pretty . . . different, but at the same time, he only hoped he could have something like that one day, if a bit more on the normal side.

“Good to see him smile again though,” Prompto said softly.

Iggy might’ve been managing to keep up the appearance of holding it together after the battle, but Prompto’d had his doubts about how long he was gonna be able to keep it up if Laura hadn’t woken up. Gladio and Noct had been doing their part by pushing food at him, but Prompto hadn’t felt comfortable bossing him around like that. Iggy hadn’t really seemed to need any help or support with all the reports and stuff he was doing, not that Prompto could even begin to help much in that department anyway, so he’d done his best to keep everything clean, even if Iggy still often went behind him and did it himself.

Seemed like all any of them had been able to do was wait until he either fell apart or confided in them, and that hadn’t happened until Laura left. Seeing him like this now, with his eyes bright and a grin on his face like Prompto hadn’t seen in the five years he’d known him, it would almost feel like all was right with the world if it weren’t for the world-ending paradox, the sun on the verge of dying, and Noct looking so lost when he thought no one was paying attention.

“Yeah,” Noct replied thoughtfully. “It kind of is.”

They both had to look away suddenly when Laura’s eyes slid in their direction—they’d been caught, and Noct hurriedly changed the subject.

“Anyway, how’ve you been, after, you know . . .?”

Pitioss. Prompto had died twice since leaving Insomnia—both times in Altissia, but it’d been a whole different experience to die so many times in a single day, two days in a row. Depending on whether he’d landed like a sack of Leiden potatoes at the bottom of an abyss or been impaled on a slab of molten spikes, death was, at the same time, everything he’d feared and yet not as bad as he’d thought it would be. Sometimes it was terror clutching at his brain as the cold settled into his bones, and sometimes it was just a flash before the darkness swallowed him whole. He didn’t know if the last couple of days had made him more or less afraid of heights; he’d have to see when the time came, but he definitely didn’t fear death the same way anymore.

“Yeah, it’s alllll good,” Prompto chuckled, giving him a little punch on the shoulder. Noct had enough stuff to worry about without him getting sad about everything Prompto had been through on this trip. Prompto’d probably be dead if Noct hadn’t invited him to the wedding, so it wasn’t like he was ungrateful or regretful for the shit he’d been through. And Noct was his best friend in the entire world, the only guy who’d liked him enough to hang out with him. Of course Prompto was gonna do whatever he could to repay that kinda loyalty and keep him—keep all of them—in his life.

“Grub’s gonna be here in a coupla minutes,” Gladio grunted as he slid in the opposite side of the booth, his weight squeezing the air out of the puffy cushions with a weary-sounding sigh.

“So how many gates do we have to do?” Noct asked, attempting to stifle a yawn. “We have to be heading back by tomorrow, so I hope it’s not a lot.”

“Laura said just the one left for now, but she said there might be more in the future.”

Prompto frowned across the table at him. Had he fallen asleep in the car at some point? He didn’t remember her saying that, so he must’ve dozed off somewhere during the trip. “You mean, in the real future, or if we return to the past again?”

“Fuck, I dunno,” he said, waving his hands in the air. “What’d she say about it? Wibbly-wobbly or whatever, right?”

“I could eat a horse!” the man at the counter laughed animatedly, his jovial tone inserting itself into the conversation, and Gladio’s head whipped around at his words, his lips pulling down into an intimidating frown.

“What?!” Gladio barked. “Fuck, we got a problem.”

Noct slid out of their side of the booth as Gladio scrambled out of his. “What is it?” Noct asked, his hands tensing at his sides as he prepared to summon a weapon.

“Unless that guy’s been reading Baggins, looks like we got a visitor.”

Prompto had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but the guy at the counter sure seemed to. His bright blue eyes went wide as he caught sight of Gladio’s hulking form advancing on him and stood, nearly tripping over his combat boots as he backed away.

Flashing them a smarmy, toothy, pearly-white smile, the man said, “Now, hold on gentlemen, I don’t wanna shoot any of you, _especially_ you handsome fellas. They must be puttin’ something in the water here, I tell ya. Whaddya say we head over to that camper over there and settle this like men, eh?”

Was he suggesting what Prompto thought he was suggesting? It was definitely a new tactic for getting out of trouble—one Prompto didn’t think he’d ever be able to pull off, but any kind of strategy was really unnecessary. It wasn’t like they were gonna hurt him for just sitting at the counter or anything; they just wanted some answers, but still, he couldn’t blame the guy for taking a few more steps backwards as they drew closer. It was three against one in his eyes . . . well, five against one as Laura and Iggy appeared in the front doorway, but everyone stopped moving when they heard Laura gasp.

“Jack. Does the Agency really not have any other field operatives?”

The man, Jack, turned that suave smile in her direction as he backed up against the door to the toilets, running his hands through his short, black hair. Prompto thought he looked kinda like one of those guys who played action heroes in movies. “Hello, gorgeous, but if you know who I am, then you should probably know it’s not safe to say anything, cause I don’t know you yet.”

Laura’s eyes tightened as they stared at each other, her expression turning old and sad. While the four of them remained still and silent, letting Laura take the lead, Prompto noticed that _everyone_ in the diner had gone silent, probably hoping this standoff wouldn’t end with weapons drawn and blood shed. As he looked around the dingy room, Prompto noticed that the diners in the three other booths had all turned, poking their heads over the high seats to peer at them nervously, and the noxious fumes of burning fish reached his nostrils as he noticed the cook standing frozen over the griddle, a spatula in hand.

“Activate protocol Alpha-Bravo-Tango 472 Delta,” she said quietly. “We’ve got this under control.”

“Now hold on,” Jack said, pulling himself straight and stepping forward to glare down at her. At his advance, Ignis took a step forward, placing himself between the man and Laura, widening his stance and spreading his fingers like he was preparing for a fight.

“You’ll be holding on for dear life if you so much as take another step toward her,” Iggy hissed, his eyes transforming to emerald flame, but Prompto noticed that they flicked back in Laura’s direction for the briefest moment before settling back on Jack.

“Easy there, handsome,” he said, raising his hands in surrender and tilting his head to the side to look around Iggy. “I got orders from top brass, and honey, you might know an alias and a code, but that’s not gonna make me back down from a Priority Seven. You’re gonna need more than that to convince me.”

Laura carefully stepped around Iggy’s tense shoulder, looking up searchingly at the man she called Jack. “Javic Piotr Thane,” she said in a slow, somber tone, and the man’s eyes went wide, his mouth dropping open a little as he took in a short breath.

“Who the hell are you to me?” he demanded softly.

“You told me once about that day in Boeshane, when you lost your brother Gray. You trusted me enough to say all that then; trust me now. Your presence here is only contributing to the Priority Seven. You need to go.”

“I—” he began, but instead of finishing, he cupped her jaw in both his hands and leaned down like he was gonna kiss her.

“Sorry, babe,” she laughed, ducking out from beneath his hands as Iggy took another step forward, glaring darkly at the stranger. “Door shut on that opportunity a looong time ago. And you _have_ to go.” When she jerked her head at the toilet door behind him, he nodded gravely, giving the rest of them a stiff-backed salute before turning on his heel, opening the door, and closing it behind him with a soft click.

Prompto let out a breath, but they all continued to watch the door carefully. Once the mysterious blue flash of light faded from the crack underneath the door, Prompto let out a breath and asked, “So, you knew that guy pretty well? Didn’t think you’d ever been in this universe.”

“I haven’t,” she said in a hushed tone as she gestured them back to their table. It was only once she’d taken her seat on the end of the booth across from Iggy that she continued, “I’ve known several parallel versions of him. Jack Harkness, James Harper . . . the man’s gone through so many names, he barely remembers his own anymore. He’s a field agent for the Time Agency in this universe, likely sent here to investigate and repair the potential paradox, but his presence would only make things worse. Lucky for me, codes for the Time Agency tend to be the same or similar in every universe. That order should clear out any other agents lurking around.”

“And you guys were . . . close? Whatever version of him you hung out with, this one sure seemed um . . . interested,” Prompto said, glancing nervously at Iggy, who was busy watching the cook at the counter bring out their salmon with a sharp eye, probably making sure they hadn’t gotten the burned one.

“Oh, no!” she laughed, leaning back as the cook placed a steaming plate of fries in front of her. “Thanks, Karl. He woulda been like that with literally anyone in this building, includin’ Karl here.”

“Asked me what time I was gettin’ off. Gotta say, that’s a first. Everything okay there, Laura?” Karl asked, placing the salmon and fry plates in front of Gladio, Prompto, and Noct before turning back to the counter to get Iggy’s salmon.

“Everything’s good. Just a misunderstandin’ between ol’ friends. ‘E won’t be comin’ back, I think. But best give Ignis a ring if ya see ‘im again, yeah?”

“Will do. Been gettin’ some strange folk about. Little lady in a cat costume came in just this mornin’ lookin’ for some help with somethin’ over by the old fort. Told her I’d send along the first hunters, but none’ve blown through here yet today. Y’all don’t think that’s somethin’ you can handle, do ya?”

“Actually, we’re kinda on a tight sch . . .,” Noct began, but Laura interrupted him.

“Yeah, we’ll take care of it. Where is she?”

“Said she’d be gettin’ ready in the warehouse next door. Was plannin’ to head out first thing tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow. Why do we have to cut these things so damned close?” Laura muttered under her breath as she stared down at her plate. Her expression transformed into a wide, glittering smile as she turned her attention back up to Karl. “No problem, thanks.”

“You think this’s got somethin’ to do with the tear?” Gladio asked as they unrolled their silverware.

Iggy reached out to Laura’s plate, snagging a couple of her fries before she could playfully swat at his hand. Iggy sent her a victorious smirk, and she stuck her tongue out at him like a kid before answering, “Cat woman has some business at the base where I _think_ the source of the disturbance is probably coming from? Yeah, pretty sure it’s related. We just need to make sure the situation’s contained until the battle begins tomorrow so Ardyn doesn’t get word before then.”

Prompto was distracted from what sounded like an interrogation from Iggy on the possible sources of disturbance with the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. Pulling it out, his heart began to beat faster at the sight of Cindy’s name and the beginning of her response. His meal completely forgotten, Prompto opened the text with shaking fingers as his heart began to pound uncomfortably in his throat.

_That’s actually a really good idea! Heard Lady Lunafreya’s speech on the radio today and thought about you boys. Good luck with it tomorrow, and come home safe! We’ll keep you updated on the shards if we learn anything. Thanks!_


	67. Chapter 67

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW this chapter

Gladio opened his mouth wide, lifted his hands high above his head, and let out a—frankly—irritating high-pitched whine of a yawn as he dragged his nails over his abdomen. Ignis supposed it was a small mercy that his mouth hadn’t been full of oats as he’d done it, but that relief didn’t prevent him from shooting a sharp glare across the breakfast table.

“You think my big, fat buddy’s meeting us there, too?” Prompto asked as he drummed his spoon irritatingly against the table.

Fortunately, the Prince was still too comatose at this hour to grate on his nerves.

 _You’re in a particularly bad mood this morning,_ Laura said affectionately as she placed a second cup of coffee down in front of him, and even that stirring of amusement in her voice rubbed him the wrong way. The phantom sensation of lips brushing across his cheek made him turn his head in her direction as she sat in the flimsy plastic chair next to him. Perhaps she was right, and his testiness at her was only serving to further prove her point.

“I very much doubt it,” Ignis replied calmly as he removed his glasses, took out his handkerchief, and rubbed the glass clean. “It’s a remarkable feat that that bird has made it as far as it has in its condition.”

Adjusting the frames back on his face so that they sat on the bridge of his nose just so, he closed his eyes and imagined running his lips lightly over Laura’s, sending her his gratitude for the second dose of caffeine. He obviously seemed to need it more than was customary this morning, as even with her assistance, he’d slept somewhat poorly these past two nights.

He wasn’t jealous. Truly, he wasn’t. No matter how many handsome rakes and rogues laid their hands on his wife, she was all his—mind, body, and spirit, just as he was hers. But it seemed that since her return from the dead and their reemergence in the real world, the fates themselves were poised to take her away from him again—the threat of the Chancellor looming over them, her injury in Pitioss, the horrifying notion that she’d been long dead and buried in Ravatogh, the possibility that a gate might open to take her to the universe for which she’d been searching these last seven thousand years, and that was to say nothing of this most recent blast from the past—even if this Jack Harkness had never known Rose Tyler.

It was as though the gods were already concocting vicious, teasing ways to tear them apart, unsatisfied to wait until Noct summoned them to attack her outright. That almost prescient notion he’d once had—that marrying Rose had been the one thing he’d done in his life directly against the gods’ will—hadn’t been so far off the mark, after all. He would, of course, never advise Noct not to summon them because of their personal issues, and he hadn’t even informed the Prince of the possibility so as not to exert undue influence on his decisions. If Noct decided that they needed the gods at some point in their daily trials, then they would deal with the consequences as they came.

If they came at all. If this wasn’t some sort of fanciful fear cooked up from speculation on a two-millennia-year-old story. It was possible, after all, that the gods may have repented for their prejudice against mixed relationships at witnessing the destruction they caused.

 _Stop worrying, love,_ Laura reminded him. _You’ll only wear yourself out, and for what?_ Her mental voice grew dark as she said, _Let them try and come for us, I dare them._

The truth was, though this situation was so very similar to their vague foreknowledge of the events on the altar, he was different now. He would keep his wits about him this time, not allow his fear to lure him into a trap. They were different as well, stronger. He would defy the gods right beside her—for her life and for Noct’s—and there was nothing that could stop them.

 _Indeed, yes. Forgive me for doubting, though our potential foes are quite formidable,_ he said, rising to take the dishes, but she stood and held a hand out to stop him.

“I can get the dishes. You boys still need to do all your fancy grooming and get dressed before you activate the glamour prisms.”

“I don’t see why we have to get dressed at all if we’re wearing these disguises Y'jhimei gave us,” Noct mumbled, pulling out the opal crystalline pyramid and examining it with bleary eyes.

“Because it only projects the image of the clothes onto your current ones,” Laura replied, her voice growing louder as she stepped up into the camper and dumped the breakfast dishes into the sink.  

“You wanna run around in your birthday suit all day today, that’s on you. Just don’t deactivate it, whatever you do. No one needs to see your . . . puny business,” Gladio added as Ignis stood to initiate their morning shower routine. The one perk of being the retinue’s chef was that he had always been allowed first rights to the showers in order to get to the dishes while the others readied themselves. Of course, he saw no reason to break the habit now simply because Rose had taken over the task this morning, as it would allow him to spend a little private time with her in a more caffeinated state.

“She never did really explain why she thought we needed a disguise,” he heard Prompto say as he brushed past Rose, pretending there wasn’t quite enough room in the cramped camper to do so without needing to grasp her hips and graze his own against her backside.

 _Be careful pulling things like that just before getting in the shower. You never know what might start pulling on you once you’re in there,_ she said, pushing back against him before he stepped away.

 _No time, I’m afraid. Even with you and Gladio taking showers last night, there’s still barely enough hot water for the three of us._     

As Ignis stepped into the cubicle and let the lukewarm spray on his skin combine with the caffeine making its way through his bloodstream, clearing the fog of sleep and his irritation, he reviewed the plan for infiltrating the abandoned base that morning. They were all slightly less than impressed at Y'jhimei’s awe and fear at the prospect of a divine summoning, but since these so-called Ixali beastmen had been nowhere in sight yesterday as the group toiled to keep imperial dropships away from the area and ignorant to the goings on within the base’s walls, they were forced to return today to take care of the matter, along with their own task of closing an interdimensional gate.

Once he’d stepped out of the shower and towel dried his hair enough to put on his Crownsguard uniform, Ignis knocked on the window, signaling Noct’s turn to bathe, before heading to the bunk area to blow his hair dry. As he sat down on his and Rose’s bunk and plugged in the hairdryer, however, he hesitated. Perhaps he should see what this costume looked like before he decided on his usual hairstyle. There was no telling what a Miqo’te woman of Y'jhimei’s temperament would find appropriate for a man of his stature, complexion, and style, after all. Summoning the prism she’d given him yesterday, Ignis pressed down on the tip of the pyramid and watched in interest as his daily attire transformed his silk button-down to a three-quarter-sleeved white linen tunic under a black leather jerkin, of sorts, with an asymmetrical line, white leather stitching details, and far too many belts as to be practical. The outfit’s impracticality for the battlefield only became more apparent as his eyes traveled down to the white nubuck leather boots that nearly reached the seam of his thighs. With any luck, the illusion of this apparel would also extend to getting it soiled, as he couldn’t imagine having to clean the white, fuzzy leather of dirt and blood at the end of the day.

Still, it wasn’t what he would consider unfashionable; Rose might actually enjoy the novelty of seeing him done up in something different here in the real world. She had, after all, nearly convulsed when he’d managed to dress himself in a slim-fitting silk waistcoat and white linen dress shirt casually unbuttoned at the collar the last time he done some composing at Therinal. He decided to see if he could garner the same reaction by leaving his hair down today—lending an air of sprezzatura to his look that he hadn’t quite been able to achieve in his younger years when he’d left it soft and neatly combed.

When he was satisfied with his appearance, he slid his glasses on and stood to find Laura, whose mind was prickling in irritation and amusement somewhere outside, but his distraction nearly caused him to smack face first into the bathroom door when Noct flung it open in a billowing cloud of humid air.

“Oh, hey, Specs,” Noct began, but froze on taking in his appearance. “Oh . . .,” he trailed off, his eyes traveling from the toes of his boots all the way up to his carefully disheveled hair. “Wonder what kinda costume she gave me.”

“Only one way to find out. We can only hope there weren’t any skeletons lurking in her closet,” he replied with a slight quirk of a smile before maneuvering past the door and Prompto, who had appeared for his turn to shower.

“Oh,” Prompto said, looking him up and down. “Yours isn’t so bad. Gladio’s kinda had me worried. And Laura’s . . . well, _you’ll_ probably like it.”

Y'jhimei had mentioned Laura’s coloring would be perfect for a ‘Keeper of the Moon’ when she’d given her the prism, but of course none of them had known what that had meant at the time. He found out immediately as he froze on the rickety steps to the camper, completely disregarding for the moment Gladio’s meaty frame stuffed into what appeared to be a black leather corset. He wouldn’t have even registered Gladio’s presence at all if it weren’t for the fact that Laura was bending over to assist with adjusting the buckles of his . . . calf vents, her long, blue-black . . . tail twitching in agitation.

“You would think an illusionary belt buckle would be less stiff,” she growled, tugging at the top-most buckle on Gladio’s left calf.

He couldn’t say he’d truly noticed just how much skin Y'jhimei’s costume had revealed until allowing his eyes to roam over the expanses of porcelain of the back of his wife’s thighs. That slight hint of bluish hue of her true form had returned, glowing subtly in the light of the rising sun and reminding him vividly of the last time he’d seen her Lliamérian body in a similar light. Swallowing the urge to step up behind her and graze his fingertips over that band of creamy flesh between her thigh-high stockings and entirely too-short red skirt, his mind raced through their itinerary today, frantically searching for a gap when they might find some time alone together.

Suddenly finding it difficult to breathe, he tugged at the leather band of the black choker that wrapped twice around his neck—and had apparently been defaulted to be knotted too tight.

“Enjoyin’ the view there, Ig?” Gladio smirked, twisting to get a better look at Laura bent over the back of his leg, and Ignis’s eyes snapped up, his face flushing at being caught. “Gotta say I questioned your taste at first, but I’m startin’ to see the appeal.”

With a scoff of mock disgust, Laura slammed the heel of her palm into the back of Gladio’s knee, making him stumble forward in an effort to catch his balance as the joint gave out underneath him. As she stood to her full height, the long, black ears on the top of her head flicking back, she said sharply, “Serves you right!” She softened a little, the cloud of amusement growing in their connection as she added, “Though I do wonder sometimes if his appetite doesn’t stray too far toward the exotic.”

“What can I say?” Ignis replied as he stepped up beside her and surreptitiously dragged the tips of his fingers down her bare spine, making her shiver. Though he’d always worn gloves to keep his hands from developing rough callouses while working so often with blades out here in the wild, he had to say he rather preferred these ‘Elezen’ gloves that left his fingertips bare to touch her. “I’ve always had rather eclectic tastes. Besides, circumstances in my life have led to a distinct lack of domestic offerings.”  

For the first time since their conversation began, Laura looked up at him—her pupils overly large in her lapis eyes and grey whisker-like markings streaking across her cheeks and down her forehead, highlighting the return of the more feline angle of her features. Her attention wandered from his neck up to his hair, and he caught her fleeting thought of, _By the gods, you’re beautiful,_ before her expression grew melancholy.

“Do you ever find you regret not truly experiencing the cuisine of your homeland?”

It seemed they had forgotten Gladio’s presence as their conversation progressed, and she regretted speaking the question the moment it had left her lips, for now it would look odd if he didn’t also answer aloud. The odds that Gladio understood every nuance of this conversation as he stood right there in front of them looking thoroughly entertained were rather high; after all, he was no simpleton. But Ignis was willing to take the risk of having such a private conversation with an audience under this veil of wordplay if it meant that Rose didn’t suffer a moment of doubt. Besides, it was probably no secret anyway that she’d been his first . . . and his last.

“Not even for a moment,” he replied immediately. “It would seem my palate is well-suited to foreign cuisine.”

Her answering radiant smile was well-worth Gladio’s muttered “You guys are too cute,” and as it grew wider, his attention snapped to the sharp canines in the corners of her mouth. Now. He needed her alone now—if only for a moment. But her hands were already reaching for his neck, her fingers plucking at the knot of his choker as he swallowed.

 _Your face is turning purple, love. This is too tight._ “I must say I’m glad to see you boys in something that’s not covered in skulls, for once,” she added aloud.

“They are rather morbid, aren’t they? But they and the color black are symbols of House Caelum and the Crownsguard that we wear with pride.”

“It’ll never cease to amaze me that boys as kind as you walk around covered in the bones of dead human heads,” Laura said as she finished re-tying his choker, letting her hands skim down his chest briefly before stepping away.

“Gotta have some way to make these guys look scary,” Noct called out from the camper door, and Ignis turned to see him still dressed in his usual fatigues. “But maybe you guys can change it someday. Not like anyone remembers why we have those as symbols anyway.”

Ignis couldn’t decide whether to protest Noct’s thoughtless disregard for tradition or question his choice in attire first, but Gladio chose to speak before he could get a word in. “Long as we don’t let Iggy do the choosing. Don’t wanna be walkin’ around in lavender leather pants or some shit for the rest of my life.”

“Says the man currently wearing a contoured leather corset,” Ignis replied coolly. He smirked in mischief before adding, “Were your natural attributes really that lacking that Y'jhimei found it necessary to include sculpted abdominals in your accoutrement?”

“Naw,” he laughed, rubbing at his stomach. “She knew I needed the extra space to fit ‘em in there.”

“And did his Highness find his costume so unsatisfactory that he refused to be seen in it? It can’t be _that_ bad.”

“I’ll put it on before we get there,” Noct said rubbing at the back of his neck. “We’re only doing it so the imperials don’t recognize us, right?”

“I believe that was Y’jhimei’s intention, though I doubt they can be fooled by such an elementary tactic,” he replied, but he was beginning to grow impatient at this idle chatter. It would only be a matter of ten minutes or so before Prompto was ready, at which point they would be on their way to the base. Turning to Laura, he said, “Would you mind terribly accompanying me for a brief trip behind the diner? There’s a magnificent view of the arches and the Disc, and I’d like to test out our sundial hypothesis as the sun rises.”

 _You sly dog, you,_ she said before answering, “Yes, that’s a very good idea. Just let me get rid of this silly bag and book first. Not exactly ideal for combat.” She quickly unhooked the strap holding the heavy tome and bag to her hip and released the items, where they disappeared into nonexistence on being separated from the illusion of her cropped-off top.

“Just don’t take too long with your science experiment. We’re making tracks as soon as Prompto’s ready,” Noct called out to their retreating backs.

“Ignis,” she breathed as he led her between the gas tanks and the diner, grabbing her hand and pulling her along once they were sufficiently hidden from view. “I have some serious plans for you in that outfit as soon as this is over.”

“As do I in yours,” he managed to mutter before dipping behind the corner of the building, swinging her around to him, and catching the backs of her thighs as she leapt up onto his waist, her knees digging into his hips and the metal buckle at his side. “Those pointed ears of yours have _certainly_ piqued my interest.”

“You kept your hair down today,” she panted into his ear before leaving a wet trail of breathy kisses down his jaw. Her tail thrashed from side to side in agitation, thwacking against his forearms as she added, “You know what that does to me.”

“Indeed, I confess I had you in mind when I made the choice,” he groaned indecorously, raising his eyes to the stone arches towering above them. Though he was making a sincere attempt to control himself, he could feel his trousers growing tighter as he lengthened and swelled against her warmth. There was something deliciously satisfying about the element of danger as she dragged those deadly teeth of hers across the sensitive skin of his neck—knowing that she could, on a mere whim, tear his throat out as easily as biting into butter. That was what they were for, after all, evolutionarily speaking. Despite knowing for certain that she would always be gentle, he could feel his pulse pounding that much harder against those sharp points as she nipped carefully at the leather straps before languidly drawing her hot tongue across the knot his choker was framing.

But he’d had quite enough of this decadent torture; he’d brought her back here to touch _her_. Silently letting her know that he was about to cease supporting her with his hands, he slid his fingertips down the backs of her thighs to the metal clasps of her stockings before pulling away to find her bare ribs. A violent shudder ran through her as he traced her curves with the very tips of his fingers and stifled her moan by forcing her mouth open with his tongue.

 _Damnit,_ she cursed as he grasped at her hips and ground her down on him. _I love it when you take what you want from me. But we’re only putting us both in a state we’re going to regret here in a couple of minutes._

_For the moment, I cannot find it in myself to care. You taste too delectable this morning._

And by the gods, he wanted to continue devouring her right here behind this diner as though he were some sort of uncivilized savage, but he could feel her alerting him to Prompto’s emergence from the camper. With three last desperate kisses, he allowed her to loosen her grip on his waist and slide down and away from his heavy erection, though not without considerable regret.

“How far gone are you?” she asked, placing her hands on his heaving chest and searching his tense expression. “I can take care of you if you think you can be quick enough.”

“Bloody hell,” he exhaled, closing his eyes in a failed attempt to block out the image. “Comments like that aren’t exactly helping me simmer down. I can wait.”

“If you’re certain,” she replied with a crooked grin.

Tugging at the long side of his jerkin so that it covered his condition, he followed after her, trying not to let his eyes linger on the sassy swish of her tail as she walked. She took several more strides before he thought to ask, “How real are those ears and tail of yours? They must be connected to your central nervous system to have motor control over them.”

“They’re less complex than that. I don’t get any sensation from them; no auditory input from the ears, either, but they seem to respond automatically to my mood, and I can control them if I think hard enough at them.” At the sight of the other three loitering near the Regalia, she sped up, her gait shifting into a playful skip as she approached and nearly bowled over Prompto.

“Prompto, you look great!”

“Yeah? You think so?” he said dubiously as he fiddled with the laces on his sleeve. “I dunno about this whole sleeve thing. I worked hard for these guns, ya know? Gotta show ‘em off!”

“You look amazing, covered guns and all,” she said, running her fingers over the high leather collar of his jerkin. “Now all we need is for Noct to get on board with his costume. Come on! It can’t be that bad!”

“I don’t see why I just can’t wait until we get to the base,” he said grumpily as he opened the back door of the Regalia.

“Just activate the damn costume,” Gladio said. “Bigger deal you make of it, the more shit you’re gonna get when you finally put it on.”

“Fine,” he shot back, pulling out his prism.

The moment Noct had pressed the tip and transformed, Ignis had to turn his head and cover his mouth in an attempt to stifle his derisive snort at the sight of his friend. There was something smacking of poetic justice in Noct’s costume, as he’d been the most . . . undiplomatic of all of them regarding Y'jhimei’s alien appearance yesterday, demanding to know ‘what was up with those ears and that tail.’

“Dude, you’re a kitty cat!” Prompto laughed, pointing at Noct’s black ears.

“So is Laura!” he yelled, pointing an accusing finger back at her.

Gladio managed to stop giggling long enough to say, “Yeah, but Laura makes it look hot. You look like someone’s grumpy housecat.”

“Well, now that the cat’s out of the bag, shall we get going? I believe we’ve reached the tail end of this conversation,” Ignis said innocently, but Noct rounded on him.

“Don’t you start!”

“I’m all ears,” he grinned.

“I mean it!”

“What happened to our usual game of cat and mouse? Cat got your tongue, or do you need a cat nap before we leave? I know you can be practically catatonic without one, and what a catastrophe that would be for our mission.”

“Ignis!” Noct whined, and Ignis decided to relent before Noct did something childish.

“Oh, very well,” he huffed. Despite the Prince’s indignation, the diversion _had_ been rather effective in taking care of his issue. Still, he thought it wise to tug at the longer flap of his jerkin as he settled into the front seat of the car, just in case.

***

“Whaddya think all those frogs are doing back there?” Prompto asked, turning a curious eye back the way they came as they sneaked toward where Y'jhimei indicated a statue of great interest was located.

While Ignis wouldn’t normally condone a diverting sidequest in the middle of such an important operation, he could taste the shadow of the Power of Eos wafting on the breeze from the statue’s direction, and checking through Laura’s longer-ranged senses, he could feel the concentration of that golden energy pooling in the center of the courtyard. Even Y'jhimei’s assessment, less familiar with her abilities though he was, indicated that some aetherial power of the wind resided in the stone. This wasn’t something they could afford to miss.

“I don’t know, but this is definitely my favorite base so far,” Laura said, smiling down at the brown and black tabby that was trotting happily beside her. The animal seemed to realize that Laura was talking about it and raised its tail high in the air, the crook at the end seeming to quiver at her words. “I only wish we could take Nelson with us when we go.”

“You did _not_ already name that cat,” Ignis said incredulously, glaring down at the creature. “And you know we can’t take him with us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snorted. “He told me his name was Nelson.”

“First, the cat in Galdin that somehow followed us to Caem—”

“Frederick.”

“And now this one. I must insist you stop taking in strays.”

“I took in the four of you, didn’t I? Face it, you’d fail issuing any kind of ultimatum.”

“Well, there’s more than one way to skin a cat,” he threatened darkly, smirking over at her. He paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head in mock consideration, “In fact, I believe I may have just come up with a new recipe.”

Laura retaliated by glaring back up at him, the image of him lying on the ground with her teeth at his throat swimming into existence in front of his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare!”

 _I don’t believe such images are quite the threat you mean them to be, love,_ he teased, rolling them over in his mind and pinning her wrists above her head before devouring her mouth. A shudder ran through him before he stepped back from the image. They needed to concentrate.

“Shhh!” Y’jhimei hushed them, a finger over her lips as she stopped in front of the inner gate. “The Ixali beastmen are here on the base today, and they’re getting ready to perform the divine summoning.”

“So this is just like forging a covenant. Who’re they summoning, anyway?” Noct asked in a low voice. “One of the Six?”

“They’re using astral shards for their ritual to call forth Garuda, Lady of the Vortex—chosen primal of the Ixal!”

 _Meteor shards, I’d wager,_ Ignis said. _Perhaps that black substance from the Great Beyond contains some power to summon the divine. But beyond preventing the Chancellor from learning of and daemonizing this entity, I don’t understand why she believes it imperative that we stop it._

 _One way to find out._ “And what would happen if this Garuda were to be summoned?” Laura asked.

“Well, the gods manifest themselves by drawing energy from the land . . . and this particular god is supposed to be _really_ vicious!” Y'jhimei replied, her ears flicking back as her eyes widened in fear.

“So we gotta stop ‘em before they can summon her,” Gladio finished, stepping forward to assist Y'jhimei with the door.

“Oh, thank you!” she gushed, her lips pulling back into a bright, toothy smile. “You adventurers are the best!”

As the gate slid open, creaking and groaning on its rusty mechanisms, Y'jhimei let out a squeak of a gasp as five black spheres, roughly a yard in diameter, floated in their direction, sending bolt after bolt of red laser fire in their direction. Ignis could immediately see by her reaction that she’d be of no help combat-wise, and Noct must have sensed the same, for he placed himself in front of her and summoned his ultima blade, brandishing it toward the enemy.

“I’ll distract ‘em, you guys take ‘em out,” Gladio called out, summoning Laura’s broadsword and running along the perimeter of the courtyard.

There were four spheres, and with Gladio playing the role of distractor, that left one for each of them. Deducing that daggers would be best for such an enemy, he leapt to the farthest sphere and summoned his Therinal blades. He’d never seen such technology in use here in Lucis, but even taking into account the invasion of technology from a new universe, the nature of the enemy appeared imperial by design. Further analysis suggested that the seam around the middle and the eye were their weakest points, and with that conclusion reached, he shut his mind off and began his work.

“Piece of cake, baby!” Prompto laughed as his circular saw plus began biting into the metal shell of his sphere with an earsplitting whine.

Noct tossed a fire spell in the air so that it hovered over his sphere for a moment, allowing him time to warp backwards in a thunderous whoosh before the flask exploded in a flash of flame.

“Excellent, Noct!” Ignis crowed.

“Hey, Prompto, why don’t ya show off your trigger-happy technique?” Noct called out.

“You got it!”

Just as Laura thrust her falchion into her sphere’s eye and followed it up with a burst of blue lightning, Ignis heard Y'jhimei’s high voice over the din, “Let me help!”

The necklace Laura had given Noct was designed to administer potions only when they were in danger, so Ignis hadn’t expected to find any relief from the mild irritation of the minor scrape he’d received from Noct’s sphere while he’d been distracted with his own. When he noticed from the corner of his eye the bloody scrape receding back into clear skin as he yanked his blade out of the mechanisms of his sphere, he shot a look to Laura, who shook her head and said, _Y'jhimei_.

“I just so happen to know a little bit of arcana. Leave the healing to me!” Y'jhimei said.

“Hey Noct, how come everybody but you can do that?” Prompto asked.

 _Was she able to heal you as well?_ Ignis asked as he swiped his dagger through the center line of the ball, cleaving it in two before it dropped to the concrete with a clunk of metal on stone and exploded in a rather unexpected blast of heat and fire.

“How the hell should I know?” Noct shot back as Ignis slid to his side, flinging an arm out to protect him from the enemy’s advance and re-summoning his blades. “Just focus on the task at hand!”

_Yes. It seems I have no compatibility issues with her universe’s energy._

Prompto’s sphere exploded only seconds after Noct’s, at which point, Gladio hollered, “We all good?”

“Better than good,” Prompto responded cheerfully.

Ignis approached Y'jhimei, eyeing the book strapped to her hip with newfound interest. He had, as of yet, been unable to completely heal Rose using his energy and was curious to learn if her power was something he was capable of wielding.

“Tell me. What sort of magic were you using?”

“Just a simple curative spell,” she said with a shrug as though that explained everything. “I’m only a novice.”

“No way! You’re outta this world,” Prompto enthused. “Literally!”

 _It doesn’t matter,_ Laura said. _No matter what sort of magic you use, you’ll still always rely on the Crystal to generate your magic, and the Crystal’s energy is what’s causing the issue._

Ignis sighed as he turned and followed Noct toward the twisted mass of stone wings fenced off in the back of the courtyard, surrounded by unfamiliar measuring equipment of some sort. They seemed to always hit this brick wall when it came to his progression in the magical arts—his limitations.

_Ignis, it’s been months since we started. Who knows what you’ll be able to accomplish with years of practice? What would you have been able to sense from this statue when you’d left Insomnia?_

_Not a blessed thing,_ he admitted as he turned a shrewd eye to the figure, opening his senses. It was almost as though a Messenger were standing in front of him—that golden power he’d become so familiar with, the immortality in its flavor. It was no new concept on Eos that the spirits of supernatural entities could sometimes be stored in stone effigies—the Old Wall being the most obvious, though slightly different, example. Could this be one of the host of twenty-four? Something stirred in Ignis’s memory from his rather extensive studies of Messenger lore, the only aspect of religion he’d thoroughly researched for selfish purposes—a dusty tome buried at the back of one the bookshelves in an unused room in the Citadel . . . more for decoration than for reference. He couldn’t be sure of the source’s veracity at the time he’d read it, but the evidence in front of him seemed to suggest that it had been correct.

Given the statue’s shape . . . “This isn’t simply any statue. It’s an artistic interpretation of the emissary of the winds—one of the Messengers,” he added at the end for Gladio, Prompto, and Noct’s benefit.

“A friend of Gentiana’s?” Prompto asked.

Noct turned to face Prompto, placing his hands on his hips and saying, “Umm, she never said anything about ‘em.”

“Yeah, because she’s usually always down for giving us the haps on what goes on. Gossip queen, that one,” Laura said acerbically, rolling her eyes.

“Her name has been lost to the ages,” Ignis continued, “No one’s sure it ever existed at all.” Glancing over at Laura, he added, _If there was, in fact, once a Messenger of the Winds, does that imply that there was once a wind Astral? A . . . Zephyrnian, I suppose?_

“The Empire seems pretty sure,” Prompto said as he pointed to the machinery. “I mean, check out all this equipment. They’re doing some serious research!”

_They hid the existence of one goddess from humanity. Why not another? Whether he or she died or by some other means, I imagine they wouldn’t want mortals knowing the circumstances behind any of their demises._

“While these things usually come back to bite us in the ass, I gotta say for now, we got more important business on our hands,” Gladio said.

“Indeed,” Ignis agreed. “The Ixal. Considering the way those sentries attacked earlier, I’d say the beastmen have begun using the base as their own.”

“Then I say we let sleeping statues lie and kick some beastmen balls!” Prompto cheered.

“Uhh . . . all right,” Y’jhimei said reluctantly as Laura put a hand on her shoulder to lead her away.

“Don’t worry. We’re going to look into it the second we get some free time,” she said.

After an hour of circuitous meandering up lookout towers, over fences, past a most baffling Kenny Crow mascot, and around shipping containers, Ignis was growing ever more grateful for his layers of linen and leather as the wind picked up and the chill in the air lingered on his bare fingertips. Ignis knew Rose would be fine with the temperature, but he eyed the skin of Y’jhimei’s bare arms, searching for evidence that she might need a coat.

 _You’re so thoughtful,_ Laura said affectionately. _You could let her know how thoughtful you are and ask her outright, you know._

He was about to do just that when a flash of movement caught his eye—another sentry. “Watch out, Y’jhimei,” he cautioned, moving to cover her as the searing heat of a sustained laser burned its way across his thigh. He managed to maneuver over the next two lasers as their guest ducked for cover, but they needed to take this spinning ball of destruction out if they were to withstand the oncoming wave of spheres Ignis could see approaching. “Noct! Take that contraption out first!” he shouted, pointing to the sphere shooting spokes of deadly laser fire in a 360-degree pattern.

Trusting that Noct could handle himself and that Rose would assist him if he couldn’t, Ignis remained at his post, backing Y’jhimei against the wall of the hangar through which they’d just passed and flitting back and forth across her, tossing daggers as she fired curative spells from beneath his arms.

“Balls to the walls, boys!” Prompto called out as he let off the last of his trigger-happy shots, sending the final sphere crashing against the wall with another fiery explosion and a shudder of the sheet metal around them.

“Hey, good one, kid,” Gladio laughed, tousling his hair.

But the stomping of a Magitek armor drowned out Noct’s call to move on, and Ignis surged forward at the sight of an MA-X Patria stomping through the gate that they had been headed toward.

“Noct and Gladio, switch to shields,” Ignis called out, summoning his lance. “Prompto, might I suggest you switch back to the saw?”

“Thanks, Iggy,” Noct responded.

His time and intelligence gathered in Altissia had clearly benefitted their skill in taking armors down, as even without the ideal weapon, Ignis was easily able to slice the lower leg joints as Laura and Noct leapt up to take out the core in the upper joints just as Ravus had.

“Sure was a lot easier with five against one,” Gladio noted as the machine crumbled into a pile of twitching metal. “Didn’t even get a chance to electrocute us.”

“Shocking, I know,” Ignis quipped, motioning that it was safe for Y’jhimei to come out from the hangar.

“Um . . . guys? What’s that thing over there? Is it gonna attack us too?” Prompto asked apprehensively, pointing in a direction just over Ignis’s shoulder.

Ignis whirled, summoning his daggers to his hands without thought, but Laura stepped up behind him and placed a hand on his elbow. _I think we’re okay. It hasn’t moved since the armor crashed through the gate._

There, just beyond the wall, hovered a sphere at least ten times larger than those they’d encountered today, perhaps thirty feet in diameter, its unfamiliar writing glowing viciously red in long columns down its metal surface. Though he didn’t recognize the script, the power source seemed reminiscent of Magitek cores in MTs.

“I believe it’s this world’s version of a teleporter,” Y’jhmei said, stepping closer to the sphere and squinting up at it, her cat-like vertical pupils narrowing and her ears pricking forward in interest. “I found myself right next to it when I came to, so it may have brought me here.”

“Whaddya mean, ‘this world’?” Noct asked.

“You know. Your world. The one we’re in right now!” she said with a shrug. “The device must’ve linked up with one of the ancient Allagan teleporters I found back home.”

“It does look strikingly similar to Solheim’s Magiteknology,” Ignis mused. “Please, tell me more of this word, ‘Allagan.’ Is it a race?” _This is the source of the tear you feel, is it not? Why did Solheim rely on this instead of the switches we’ve seen? Does the sphere pre-date the switches?_

“It’s this whole civilization that lived on our world during the Third Astral Era,” Y’jhimei replied, waving a vague hand in the air.

“And that would be . . . how long ago?” Gladio asked.

“A long time,” Y’jhimei answered. “Like, five thousand years ago.”

_It’s the source of the tear, certainly, but as to the rest of it, I don’t know. They clearly traveled in time to arrive in Y’jhimei’s world if they became these Allagans—or perhaps a year isn’t as long on their planet._

“Well, while it was this teleporter we came for, I say we handle it once we’ve stopped this divine summoning these Ixali are so hellbent on seeing to completion,” Ignis said.

“Yes,” Laura agreed as she led the way forward. “I think the danger of the paradox is passed, anyway. The chances that the Empire can find out what’s going on here, write up a report, and have it trickle up the ranks to reach Ardyn in the next seven hours are pretty slim. Not that we shouldn’t keep this information on the down-low anyway, just in case.”

As Noct opened the next gate, a wall of bright yellow feathers seemed to wiggle and jiggle in front of them as an almost insect-like buzzing filled Ignis’s ears, setting his teeth on edge.

“Oh no! What’re you doing here?” Y’jhimei cried out, rushing over to the rotund chocobo they had assisted her with the day before.

“It’s a shame we didn’t just follow him here,” Laura giggled as she reached a hand up to stroke the bird’s chubby cheeks. Was a bird physically capable of developing chubby cheeks? Ignis hadn’t thought so, but the evidence before him seemed to suggest otherwise. “He seems to be better at infiltration than we are!”

“Hey there, Mr. Chunkabo! Whatcha doin’ over here?” Prompto laughed.

Gladio nodded in approval. “He’s a faithful steed. Bet he’d do anything to protect his partner.”

“And I’m very grateful,” Y’jhimei said. “I just can’t really look after him properly while in the middle of my research, so I let him eat whatever he wants . . . which happens to be quite a lot.”

“You guys hear that?” Noct interrupted, walking cautiously toward yet another inner gate of the base.

“Yeah, I suspect we’re about to crash a summoning party,” Laura said before looking down at the tabby that had been following along behind them like a phantom. “Stay here for this part, Nelson.”

“He’s managed quite all right on his own thus far,” Ignis said as he pressed the mechanism that would open the doors, revealing the towering crystalline meteor shards glowing bright blue in the late morning light. The buzzing hum of the Ixali in the midst of their wild undulation didn’t cease as the six of them strode silently but unhidden toward the ritual.

 _Real aliens,_ _from another planet,_ Ignis breathed, _fascinating._

Taking in their clawed feet, segmented arms and legs, narrow waists, broad chests, and insect-like heads topped with horns, Ignis’s mind buzzed with hundreds of questions. What was their world like that they evolved as a bipedal insectoid species? Were they sexually dimorphic? What was their society like? Clearly, they possessed religion of some sort. Was this buzzing they were hearing their native language? The group had heard several threats shouted their way when the spheres had attacked them, so they were capable of speaking Lucian. And why was that? Why did Y’jhimei speak Lucian as well? Could this have been a mark of a world touched by Solheim? If so, why did the Solheimian language also exist? Why was it not the one to be passed down throughout the universes?

 _Calm down, love,_ Laura laughed. _You’re asking all these questions that can’t be answered or are unlikely to be answered, unless you want to try asking them. And do try to keep in mind that there are currently two aliens from other planets in your party—one of whom you were crazy enough to bond with._

Even with new concepts such as telepathic bonding, time sense, and the free use of magic, Ignis often overlooked the fact that Laura wasn’t human—even after returning to him in her true form. She was just so familiar to him, no matter how she appeared or what she did. And Y’jhimei . . . though the woman did possess ears and a tail, she still seemed human to him in a way these Ixali didn’t—even if she was rather . . . ebullient.

Still, aliens or not, this lot needed to be stopped now, and it appeared as though they were rather far along in their ceremony.

“Don’t tell me we’re too late!” Noct said.

“Let’s go!” Gladio shouted, leading the charge to the Ixal sitting cross-legged at the base of largest meteor shard in the center of the circle.

“Remember, at least give them a chance to stop the ceremony peacefully,” Laura reminded them as they rushed forward.

“Pretty sure all those balls they sent us were their answer,” Noct argued.

Ignis felt Laura falter momentarily and sent her a wordless query as Noct threw his sword to warp-strike into their target with a roar of, “Oh, no you don’t!” But she didn’t have the opportunity to answer for her delay, as the Ixal marked for death turned in their direction, let out a painfully hoarse death wail, and dropped to the dirt with a sigh of expiration.

“I—didn’t even touch him,” Noct protested as Ignis came to a halt by his side.

As Ignis cast his eyes over the unfamiliar physiology in an attempt to solve this most recent puzzle, Prompto pointed up to a spot high above their heads and cried out, “The shards!”

Ignis looked up just in time to see the shard—the size of one of the two-story buildings in Lestallum—disappear in a blinding flash of glowing blue as a vortex of wind picked up, sending vicious swirls of gritty dirt flying into the air and their faces.

“On the bright side,” Laura yelled over the roar of rushing wind, “the completion of the ceremony handles the rest of the Ixali for us.”

“Yes, but the downside is that the Empire will certainly get wind of this,” Ignis replied, throwing his hands in front of his face and tilting his head against his shoulder so that the grit wouldn’t wind up down his ear canal.

“Well, if we can get the situation under control quickly, perhaps they’ll just attribute it to a freak Leiden windstorm in Duscae.”

“Look! There she is!” Prompto said, pointing once again up at the sky, where Ignis could just make out a ball of wings dropping to the ground fast in a graceful, controlled spin.

“Where’s Y’jhimei?” Ignis asked in alarm as he surveyed their surroundings, noting idly the position of the four remaining meteor shards and the topography of the area that would soon be their battlefield.

“Something odd was going on with that statue, so I sent her to check it out,” Laura replied. “She’d be in danger here, anyway.”

“Heads up. Things are about to get ugly,” Gladio said.

The ball of feathers unfurled like a ship’s sail, the Lady of the Vortex’s four white-feathered wings spreading wide to catch the gusts. The woman executed a gracefully-controlled glide down to the ground, where she gently touched her two scaly hooves onto the stone where the meteor shard once stood, the click of foot against stone somehow sounding over the force of the gale. The five of them looked up at her as the green and white wings of her headdress danced on the air currents, her bone-white face appearing almost benevolent as she gazed tenderly back at them with black eyes. For a moment, Ignis could almost see why the Ixali had worshipped such a creature.

“Oh, but she’s beautiful!” Laura said in awe and fascination before growing more serious. “Wait until she’s made a move before advancing. I’d like to try for some diplomacy first, if we can.”

 _Do I finally get to see evidence of these diplomacy skills to which you’ve hinted?_ Ignis asked in amusement, but as Laura took several slow, careful steps toward the creature, her eyes wide and wary with the wonder of discovery, he added, _Be careful._

The Lady of the Vortex uncurled her scaly black bird claws from over her green and white feathered bodice, spreading her arms wide as she threw her head back and let loose a high, bone-chilling screech. The group was forced to scatter out of their defensive formation as Ignis whirled, ducked, and dodged the onslaught of vicious feathers that were hurled toward them before burying their pointed quills into the ground with hundreds of thwacking thuds.

 _I think we see which way the wind is blowing now,_ Ignis added as he glanced around to inspect the status of their party. _I’m not certain how much a negotiation will change the nature of a woman who shoots first before so much as identifying her targets._

 _I have to try,_ she said, approaching the hovering bird-woman with a careful, neutral expression. “Am I addressing Garuda, Lady of the Vortex?” she asked in a formal, almost melodious tone. When the woman only tilted her head, squinting in curiosity down at Laura, she continued. “By the standards set forth in Article twenty-three of the Shadow Proclamation, I must hereby inform you that you’ve arrived on a Level Five planet currently under quarantine. I recommend for your own safety that you return to your world in peace.”

Garuda blinked slowly, the black irises of her eyes only serving to highlight the cold cruelty behind the slow, feral smile that crossed her features before she answered in dual-toned Lucian, “Wretched insects of this alien world—rejoice and fall to your knees in supplication! I, the supreme deity Garuda, shall rule over the skies and fill them with storms!”

Laura turned back to Noct, the tendrils of hair that she never clipped up whipping against her face in the wind. “Well, I tried. What’s your response, Your Majesty?”

“We already got our share of problems down here! This ‘divine intervention’ is the last thing we need!” Noct yelled up at the woman, pointing in accusation, and Ignis pushed his glasses up further on his nose, preparing for the inevitable fight the so-called goddess would put up at their failure to acquiesce.

“Then behold as my gales drown out your arrogant protestations. Tremble as my winds tear you limb from limb!” Garuda responded haughtily before loosing another ear-piercing shriek.

“Then let’s be done with this riffraff!” Ignis spat. “Noct, we can kill two birds with one stone by taking her out and resolving the paradox.”

“Let’s handle this quick,” Gladio agreed, summoning his broadsword. “Better bust out the Royal Armiger on her ass—a proper ‘welcome to Eos.’”

“Right,” Noct agreed, closing his eyes and allowing the ten signature weapons of his forebears to break through into this realm.

Though mere mortals such as himself had always admired the Power of Kings, Ignis had never truly recognized the ability to summon the Royal Armiger as a divine power of the Draconian until Pitioss, until this very moment that Noct brought the glaives that represented the spirits of his ancestors to the surface of this world. Noct rarely used the Royal Armiger in battle, and Ignis was beginning to see why—the price that was paid from the use of such power each time it was wielded, Noct’s declining health with each strike. That was to say nothing, of course, of how those very same glaives would one day take his life.

“Just watch your condition, and don’t over-exert yourself,” Ignis advised. “Remember, we’re here to back you up.”

But Noct clearly wasn’t listening, as his eyes were focused on the ten arms spinning in a circle, and . . . why were there only ten?

“Luna’s trident’s missing!” Noct said in alarm, clenching his teeth.

“Ravus said her work wasn’t done,” Ignis reminded him. “Perhaps she only lent it to you to fell the goddess, but we can discuss this at a later time. We must hurry!”

“Right,” Laura nodded before warp-striking up onto Garuda’s back, hacking at her wing to send her crashing to the ground. She had just enough time to roll out of the way as Noct sent his Royal Armiger shooting into her body in sparkling spectral trails, too fast for Ignis’s eyes to identify which glaive was hitting the woman at any given moment. When Laura had returned to their group, Prompto set loose a volley of bullets, piercing Garuda’s side and covering her white feathers in sickly green blood. Once the Royal Armiger had ceased and Noct stumbled woozily, attempting to recover, the rest of them fell on the vulnerable woman, blades brandished.

“Noct! Are you all right?” Laura asked after several minutes, and Ignis tore his polearm from the screeching, clawing primal’s side and whipped his head up to see Noct bent over with his hands on his head.

 _Is he hurt? Doesn’t your necklace work on him as well?_ Ignis asked as he dismissed his weapons and rushed to his liege’s aid.

Laura followed after him as she said, _Yes it does, but this is that damned statue and unsolicited telepathy again._

“I’m all right,” Noct muttered as he and Laura reached Noct’s side, grasping his elbows and helping him to his feet. “I—I dunno whose voice I’m following, but, as long as you’re helping me out, I’m with you!”

“Probably not the best idea to just offer up your allegiance to a random voice in your head, Noct,” Laura chastised, but her words came too late, as Noct’s eyes were already red with that familiar glow that came with the mark of a god, the completion of a covenant.

The whipping percussion from the sky that reached Ignis’s ears reminded him somewhat of a Magitek engine, the way it beat at the insubstantial air in an effort to maintain its position. Ignis and Laura looked up to find yet another ball of wings hurtling down to the ground in a tunnel of wind—faster this time, seemingly out of control. In a death-defying maneuver, this new entity uncurled and released her wings far too close to the ground in an effort to halt her freefall, stretching her long, golden, bird-like legs ending in claws and her long black-clawed arms wide to catch as much air as possible. Ignis couldn’t see the woman’s eyes beneath her mythril bird mask, but her skin glowed a chocolate ebony and her lips a peacock green in the grey light of the clouded sky. Those vented scarlet, purple, and gold wings didn’t seem as though they would be effective in keeping her aloft, but they did their job as she hovered over their party, smiling serenely down at them in a manner that suggested to Ignis that she was smirking. The cowl of golden feathers around her neck ruffled in the wake of her gale as she, too, threw her head back and shrieked like a hunting eagle.

Having no idea what this new entity’s status was regarding her opinion on his and Rose’s mixed relationship, Ignis stepped in front of Rose, summoning his daggers in preparation for some sort of attack, but he needn’t have bothered, as this Messenger only seemed to focus on that which she had been called for. A shot of air and light pierced the swirling grey sky at her call, penetrating Garuda’s prone form as the defeated entity screamed her final words, “No mortal should possess such power! This…this is impossible!”

As Garuda shriveled away in a haze of green light and the emissary of the winds disappeared to wherever summons went once they’d achieved victory, Noct swaggered closer and shot back, “Yeah, well, apparently I’m not—technically, anyway.”

“Easy there, tough guy,” Gladio said amusedly. “You’re still a mortal, divine blood or not.”

“He does look a bit like the cat that ate the canary, but I suppose it’s better than turning tail and running,” Ignis remarked with the barest hint of a smile at the seemingly exhausted Prince. Ignis would need to prepare something extra nourishing tonight before they went to bed and returned to Altissia. For the moment, all he could do was distract him. “Still, that’s our last cataclysm overthrown—a rather long tale to tell anyone who asks about it, if I do say so myself.”

“Iggy?”

“Am I ruffling your feathers again?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“I know,” he replied, his smile growing into a wicked smirk. “I have an eagle’s eye for these things. Still, you were in fine feather today—established the pecking order and showed the Lady of the Vortex who rules the roost. But now that you’ve gotten your second wind, let us meet up with Y’jhimei to ensure she’s all right.”

“Yep! We’ll wait for you! Birds of a feather, and all . . .,” Prompto said with a grin.

“You guys blow,” Noct muttered, but the corner of his lips quirked up in a small smile as he led them away.

As they slowly made their way back to where Y’jhimei presumably waited for them in the statue’s former courtyard, an ethereal whisper wafted on the air, faltering their steps as they paused to listen.

“I am a Messenger of the will of the gods. I was defeated by the gods and awakened by a traveler from another world. Over my long slumber, my name has been forgotten. I shall therefore take on the name of the goddess of storms. Henceforth, I am Garuda. Together with the gods, I shall bring the winds of dawn to your era of twilight.”

“So, now I’m confused,” Prompto said as the voice was whisked away on the wind. “Is she an Astral or a Messenger? I didn’t think you could forge covenants or summon Messengers like that.”

Gladio nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Not like Gentiana comes when you call her.”

“She could be one of Ramuh’s Messengers,” Ignis said. “Or she may be a High Messenger—her Astral body defeated, perhaps during the War of the Astrals. It’s possible she migrated into her Messenger form and was turned to stone to hold her prisoner as a form of punishment.”

“Which would mean there are other ways to hold a goddess in place than chaining her in hell, so Eos must not have the ability to control her powers in a Messenger form,” Laura said.

“That would be the most likely explanation. It never sat quite right with me that they would want to keep her alive yet kill any theoretical Messengers of hers off. This is all merely speculation, however.”

“Seem to be doin’ a lot of that lately,” Noct said bitterly. “It’d be nice to get some straight answers for once, but I doubt she’s gonna give ‘em to us.”

***

In a gesture far too reminiscent of this morning’s scene at the breakfast table, Prompto let out a long, dramatic yawn as they approached the camper in the Cauthess Rest Area parking lot.

“So that was it? Y’jhimei’s gonna keep outta sight and do her research while she figures out a way to get back to her home universe? Is she gonna be okay on her own, d’ya think?”

Gladio let out a little chuckle before answering, “She’s a smart girl. She can handle herself. And the window for the paradox is passed. Think we’re good.”

“Did anyone happen to ask what it was she was researching?” Ignis asked. “I confess I hadn’t thought to ask.”

“Anything, really,” Laura replied, “but mostly arcana and the Allagan civilization. I pointed her toward some of the Solheimian ruins here on Eos she might be interested in checking out but warned her about the danger.”

“See? She’s been informed. So whaddya say? A few beers, dinner, kickin’ back with some King’s Knight before we head back?” Gladio asked, slapping Noct on the back.

“Hell yeah,” Noct agreed. “Prompto?”

“You know I’m game! And what about you, Laura? You wanna try again and get your tail whipped?” Prompto giggled as he grasped the end of Laura’s tail and whipped it to hit the backs of Ignis’s thighs.

“Prompto! That could be highly inappropriate, for all you know,” he chastised.

“Not like any of us is gonna know any better without a Miqo’te here to tell us,” Noct said. “You got any plans for you and Laura this afternoon, or is she allowed to hang out and play?”

“There’s rumor of a foraging spot for wild onion nearby. I’d like to pick some up before Laura and I start dinner,” he replied, eyeing Laura as he brought the topic up. Eager though he was to finish what they’d started this morning, it would be rather rude of him to presume she was still in the mood. Offering up this suggestion as he had at least presented the opportunity in such a way that they could devote all their time to foraging if she’d changed her mind.

 _Are you kidding me?_ she asked in disbelief at sensing his hesitancy. _I’ve already got an idea of where to find some privacy._

“Sorry, guys. Onion’s a bit difficult to find outside of Lucis,” Laura said, tousling Prompto’s hair.

Noct plopped down in one of the plastic chairs outside the caravan with a disinterested, “Cool, if that’s what you guys wanna do.”

Gladio gave them a wicked smirk as they called for Calima and Saracchian, but Ignis was relieved to see that their sparring practice had instilled some doubts as to their private activities, as Prompto said just as they were riding away, “I can never tell if that means what I think it means or not.”

Ignis caught on to Laura’s idea as soon as she led them to the base of the arches behind the diner and went on ahead, encouraging Calima to leap up onto the high, rocky ledges before Saracchian’s lighter load coaxed him to first position with a cheeky laugh and flash of sharp teeth. As Calima cut Saracchian off once again and they stepped onto the beginning of the path that led up over the road, Ignis ignored the stunning view for a moment in favor of discovering the perfect spot—one that would offer them privacy from possibly prying eyes down below yet still provide them with the gift that was the landscape of nearly all his homeland.

There—two dark brown rocks raised at a perfect angle for taking her in several possible positions and blocking all but their heads from view on both sides. Ignis turned Calima, stopping the bird next to where Saracchian was already swaying with the heavy breeze, his glossy black feathers flipping up against his black and mythril saddle. Laura had, of course, sensed his intentions the moment he’d become aware of them, so she was already waiting for him right where he wanted her when his boots crunched in the gravel beneath his feet as he dismounted.

“This world is just so devastatingly lovely,” she said in a hushed tone. Ignis stepped up behind her, pressing her body against his seemingly humming one, bringing his right hand up and around to cup her left breast, and spreading the fingers of his other hand wide over the warm skin of her belly as he turned in a slow circle with her, taking in the view combined with her scent.

Again, all of Eos seemed to lay prostrated before them. From their vantage point, they had a clear view of all the craters left by the smaller meteors from the Astral War, every set of arches of the Sundial of Cauthess—ethereally blue in the misty distance, the mythril wing of the Disc itself, Lestallum, the rolling verdant forests, and the jagged peaks of mountains surrounding them on every side.

“Look up, love,” she whispered into the breeze, her head pressing back against his chest as her Miqo’te ears rested for a moment against his mouth before he obeyed.

Breathing in deeply a lungful of that fresh, grassy, rocky tasting air, he almost lost himself in that expanse of clear blue extending in a hemisphere above his head. He’d seen such a sky dozens of times before, but never so close and never quite like this. And though the smallest corner of his heart was reluctant to acknowledge that he dreaded leaving the cradle of his home and returning to that accursed city, this was just the sight he needed to remind him why they had to go back, why they needed to risk the two greatest loves of his life.   

But they had hours until they had to return, and he had Rose here all to himself for the time being.

Removing his hand from the soft warmth of her breast to release her hair, he let the twist fall heavy onto his chest, where it caught the wind and swept off to the left until he grabbed a handful and pulled her head back, exposing the long column of her neck to his lips and teeth.

“Ignis,” she sighed reaching up behind her to scratch lightly at the back of his neck before grasping her own handful of hair. With a gasp into her ear and a rush of heat to his groin, Ignis pulled her closer as she arched back into him. He slid his hand below the belt of her skirt, beneath the elastic waistband of her underwear, and teased lightly at the edges of her sex.

She whimpered weakly, tugging more insistently at his hair, “Ithīr, athaluat, Ithīr, I’ve wanted you all day. Please, Ignis.”

He couldn’t help but smirk against the pebbled skin of her neck, even as he wanted to moan his pleasure at the rather enticing way she was rubbing her backside against him. For all that she was the more experienced of the two of them, she was also the more impatient, the more eager to have all of him. And while he found that notion endlessly flattering, Ignis typically preferred to take his time, to savor her thoroughly from every sense, to drown in that exquisite agony of anticipatory pleasure.

“As I have you,” he murmured, letting his voice go deep and husky with want as he tickled along the seams of her thighs and ground into her from behind, “but you must be patient.”

“I don’t _want_ to be patient,” she whined petulantly, bending her head to nip at the wrist on her breast. She opened her mind wide so that he could fully feel just how wet she truly was, how much her emptiness almost hurt, forcing him to grit his teeth at the answering pulse that went through him.

Growling in defeat and frustration, he pulled away to undo the lowest belt of his jerkin, allowing him to unclasp his trousers, but as he made to pull them down, Rose said to him without turning around, _Wait. Show me from your eyes. Show me what you’re doing._

He did as he was bid, letting his eyes linger on the tight nub of his head peeking out through his open trousers beneath his black boxer-briefs, but they shot to the barest hint of the curve of her backside as she leaned forward to place both her hands on the stone in front of her.

 _Focus on the task at hand, please,_ she teased, reaching behind her to pull her bloomers down to fall around her ankles, and though he hadn’t truly singled out its existence until that moment, his attention zeroed in on the shiver of her tail.

 _If I’m to do this, you’ll need to tell me what to do,_ he challenged, tilting his head so he could get a better view of the curve of her cheeks underneath that skirt. Reaching out to graze the very tips of his fingers over her lips, back and forth, over and over until she let out a shuddering moan that sent a thrill of masculine power through him, he added, _That, or you cede your control to me._

 _I want you to pull your trousers down as far as they’ll go,_ she gasped immediately, and he reluctantly pulled back.

As his last act of teasing rebellion, however, he decided to make a meal of removing his gloves, focusing on each finger as he one-by-one pulled them free, sneaking glances of her Miqo’te ears laid flat against her head, her tail thrashing, and the seam of her glistening sex under the shadow of her skirt as she waited for him, bent over, panting, and vulnerable. It was that vulnerability as she waited that made him pick up the pace in his compliance, pushing the longer side of his jerkin aside and pulling the flaps of his trousers apart and down, but they only made it just past his groin before they hung over the top edges of his boots.

“Yessss,” she hissed. “Now pull yourself out and touch yourself.”

Feeling only somewhat self-conscious, he wordlessly moved to comply, pushing his boxer-briefs over his engorged erection and running both hands along his shaft, twisting his palm a little when he reached his leaking head. But just as that breathless relief pulsed through him at the friction, he heard a groan and the teasing wet sound of her sex being touched. His patience for this game evaporated immediately at looking up to the sight of her bent farther forward, fully exposed, her fingers spreading her labia wide and dragging over her slick pink skin.

“Fuck me,” he whispered on an exhale, which only earned him another moan and a flash of ache through their connection.

“Oh, gods, yes, Ignis, please,” she whimpered, her fingers moving faster at her plea. “Right now, just like this.”

Though he’d taken her from behind once before, he’d never done so with her bent over like this. He’d been, perhaps subconsciously, avoiding this position because it cut off too much access to her body and expression, as though he were using her as an object. His opinion on the matter changed abruptly upon bracing himself with his right foot on the angled stone by her hand, lining himself up, and pushing into her silky warmth with a resounding moan from the both of them.

Gods, had he ever been this deep inside her? She felt tighter somehow around him, fuller. But no, she pushed her hips back until she had him by the root, and he shot both hands to her hips, squeezing her flesh to still her for a moment as he shivered violently in her heat. Ignis wasn’t the only source of that overwhelming tingle of pleasure and primal savagery; Rose was experiencing it, too—that intense desire to fuck as though they were both inebriated on her pheromones.  

Biting his lower lip to stifle his own soft cry, he tentatively pulled back and pushed forward again, reveling in that delicious friction and the brushing of his hipbones against her buttocks.

 _Oh gods, Rose. I don’t know how long I can take this,_ he admitted reluctantly, his fingers tightening on her hips.

He had just pulled out enough so that his rim teased at her entrance in a way that always sent a shockwave through their connection when she cried out, _Please, just go. Just fuck me, please._

How could he refuse such a vehement request? Thrusting long, slow, and deep as she pushed back against him, he kept his eyes locked on where they were joined—the curve of her rear, the shine of her essence clinging to his shaft each time he pulled out—this was just what they needed. She always seemed to know just what he needed. And as her long black tail curled around his bare hip and snaked up his shirt, tickling at the small of his back and merely increasing that basal, hindbrain instinct to lay claim to her, all he could do was growl long and low like a barbarian.

“You’re mine.”

Her wordless answer was deep and guttural, like an animal in heat, spurring him to pick up the pace as he clung to her hips and suckled frantically at her breasts, neck, and clitoris in his mind. He shouldn’t be feeling this—this deep satisfaction and masculine dominance and pleasure from something so animalistic, so lusciously naughty. Desperate to find some deeper emotional connection between their bodies and minds, Ignis removed his left hand from her hip and stroked along her spine—up and down—tempering and soothing that feral drive as he continued to move in her.

Months of practice, and he was getting better at drawing himself out, of holding himself on the edge until she began squeezing him with every inward thrust, until she began trembling around him. She was only seconds away when the familiar wave of pressure and sensation built, the pleasure in her body only serving to increase his own as he leaned over her back, drove into her as deeply as he could, and let out a final gasp into her ear.

She was quiet as they cleaned each other, her mind silent to him even as she leaned against the stone, pulling him on top of her and sealing her lips to his.

“We’re going to be all right,” she murmured when he’d pulled back to press his ear to her right heart, though the quadruple beat of both hearts still pulsed in a steady rhythm against his face as the vibration of her voiced buzzed in her chest along with it. “I’ll protect you.”

Ignis wasn’t a fool. For all that Rose made an honest effort to make him an equal in this partnership, often even the dominant one, when it came to life or death matters, she tended to bear the burden alone. He didn’t _believe_ the oversight was due to a lack of confidence in his willingness to defy the gods for those he loved. It was rather more likely the sort of habit that was born of lifetimes traveling alone and not wishing to risk his mortal shell. He’d always withstood his trials and responsibilities in a similar manner, taking on the load without complaint or visible signs of duress. But he’d ceded that inclination the day he fell asleep against that anak; it hadn’t been a simple matter to do so, but he expected the same of her in return, even if he couldn’t share in matters of the future and even if her change of habit would be a work in progress.

“But who will protect you?” he asked into her chest, pressing his lips briefly against the petal-soft skin. “You have to let me, Rose. Don’t bear this alone. Remember that you’re nearly as destructible as I.”

“I’ll try my best, I promise, but there’s nothing to share just yet that I haven’t already told you. I hope you know . . . it’s not because I consider you incapable.”

“I realize, yes,” he said firmly—reassured of his hypothesis, but he let out a long, weary sigh. This trip home, while enlightening, hadn’t exactly been restful. Perhaps their two weeks on the boat on their way to Terraverde would provide them the respite, if not the privacy, they all deserved. “Shall we go and fetch the onions before the others begin speculating as to what our true aims were in leaving?”

“Yeah,” she replied unenthusiastically, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair, careful to comb it in the direction he’d had it styled.

“Onions, then dinner, then the future,” he said, leaning up for one last lingering kiss, humming in pleasure against her lips before pushing himself up off her.

“Yeah,” she agreed, the barest hint of a smile tugging at her mouth as he pulled her to her feet. “Back to the future . . . wonder if Umbra’s equipped with a flux capacitor.”


	68. Chapter 68

The train had only just left Calcano; they were still a couple of days outside of Gralea when Gladio finally snapped.

Two weeks he’d waited—after Umbra had taken them back to the night before they were supposed to get on the boat and start heading to Terraverde. He felt that giving it two weeks was more than fair, considering all they’d been through and all they still had to go through.

He’d been patient long enough, for fuck’s sake. He’d stepped back for long enough and let the kid grieve for Lunafreya, and for a while, it almost looked like he was gonna pull himself together. Noct had handled his issues with Iggy and Laura like a fucking adult for once in his life and was taking Prompto’s confession pretty much in stride. The atmosphere had almost been normal while they’d been back in Lucis—as normal as it could be saving the world—but then they’d gotten on that fucking boat. Then Noct had spent the next two weeks brooding inside his own head as Laura steadily deteriorated.

And then Iggy happened to bring up the fact that the damn train would be stopping in Tenebrae.

Noct still hadn’t put that gods damned Ring on yet, and they were running out of time for him to grow some balls and become the king they all needed. Just a couple more days, and they’d be in the heart of enemy territory, possibly waltzing into the Emperor’s throne room to stick a sword in the man himself. None of them knew just what the hell they were supposed to do with the Crystal when they reached it in order for Noct to become Savior of the World, so besides strapping the damn thing to the roof of the Regalia and mowing over the thousands of soldiers and MTs that would no doubt be waiting for them, Gladio had nothing. Their only source of answers were those hundred and thirteen kings currently sitting in Noct’s pocket—completely ignored.

He got it; he really did. It wasn’t like Gladio hadn’t lost people he’d cared about. But what if he’d moped and sulked and refused to pick up his sword after his old man had died? After he’d had to leave Iris behind? He’d had to make sacrifices too, gods damnit, and not only was Noct spitting in the face of that massive effort, he was also giving Luna’s sacrifice the finger, too.

Gladio sat stiffly on the hideous green pleather seat, staring out at the flat dry plains and gray-green underbrush that reminded him far too much of Leide, inhaling the scent of sweat and feet and letting all the anger and fear bubble up inside him until he felt like he could leap through the plate glass window and race across the desert. Looking to the bench across, he could see that Iggy and Laura were completely oblivious to the fact he was about to explode. Laura’s face had gone bone white, her knees pulled up to her chest as she stared out the window with wide, blank eyes. So Iggy was probably helping her through another one of her episodes—and Prompto was too busy fidgeting around Noct in a failed attempt to perk him up. He was on his own. This was who he was—the only man making sure that Noct moved on, grew up, and became someone worthy of following into the hell they were about to enter.

The small, shaky sigh Noct let out as he stared down at the floor was the last fucking straw.

“The hell is wrong with you? We’re not stopping in Tenebrae. You need to grow up and get over it,” he growled, rising to his feet and clenching his fists in an effort to redirect that tight feeling in his chest somewhere else.

“I am over it,” Noct growled back, standing to stare up at Gladio with his teeth bared. How did this kid not know he was in the wrong? What right did he have to fight back? As Gladio grasped a satisfying handful of Noct’s shirt, Noct’s voice rose in petulant teenage anguish and anger as he said, “I’m here, aren’t I? Let go of me!”

“Gladio!” Ignis chastised, but Gladio chose to ignore him. If he could just make the kid angry enough to do something, maybe he’d put that ring on and do his duty.

“How’s that ring fit ya?” he taunted. “You’d rather carry it around than wear it? She gave her life so you could do your duty, not so you could sit around feeling sorry for yourself!”

“You don’t think I know that?!” Noct shot back, struggling against Gladio’s iron grip on his collar.

He leaned in close to Noct’s face, his eyes narrowing and his voice growing quiet. “You don’t! You think you’re a king, but you’re a coward.”

“Shut up!” Noct roared, baring his teeth as he struggled to remove Gladio’s fist from his shirt, but when his fingertips failed to pry Gladio’s fingers apart, he settled for grabbing a fistful of Gladio’s jacket instead.

So intent on making their so-called ‘leader’ see just how fucked they were if he didn’t pull it together, and soon, Gladio wouldn’t have noticed Prompto’s hand pushing at his chest if he hadn’t cried out, “Don’t do this!”

Even through his rage, Gladio knew Prompto was just trying to do what he did best and keep the peace, but he didn’t get the situation any better than Noct did, obviously—didn’t get that the only way to get Noct’s sorry ass to do anything since he was a little kid was to give it a good kick. Prompto might’ve been willing to die for his friend for gods knew what reason, but the rest of them were obligated, practically from birth for him and Iggy. He didn’t have the time or inclination to explain to Prompto that Noct couldn’t be a friend or a boy right now, so without releasing Noct, Gladio placed a hand over Prompto’s face and pushed him away, hard enough that he’d reconsider getting in the middle of this again.  

“Gladio!” Iggy and Laura shouted.

Though he kept his eyes locked on Noct’s furious, burning ones, Gladio could clearly identify the hand that reached between them and grasped his wrist tight enough to hurt but not enough to injure him.

“Stay outta this, Laura,” he growled, but she’d already begun twisting, loosening his grip on Noct’s collar before she shoved him up against the glass window—hard.

Had this been any other situation, it might’ve been kinda funny to look down and see those fiery blue eyes staring up at him from the level of his chest. She may’ve made a promise to the King to see them through this, but at the end of the day, she’d volunteered for this mission—same as Prompto. Unlike Prompto, however, he’d sparred with her enough times to know that he wasn’t gonna get past her no matter what he tried, which only served to piss him off more.

“Apologize to Prompto,” she seethed.

Gladio looked over to where Prompto was bent over the back of the bench, being assisted by Ignis with a soft, “Are you all right?” When Prompto nodded, they both looked up to Laura, still pinning Gladio to the window with a hand on his chest and a hand on his wrist.

Though that fire was still burning in his chest, practically forcing him to clench his jaw tight at the words, Gladio managed to mutter, “Sorry, man.”

“Good,” Laura said under her breath, moving her hands to fist at the edges of his jacket and thrusting him toward the door at the back of the car.

But Noct’s fire apparently hadn’t extinguished yet either, as he followed after them, his voice growing hoarse as he yelled, “I get it, all right? I get it!”

Gladio tried to sidestep Laura so he could get back in Noct’s face to respond that he obviously _didn’t get shit_ , but she stepped right along with him, shoving him even harder. Gods damn, but of course she was stronger than even Cor, so he settled for yelling back over her head.

“Then get a grip! Pull your head out of your ass already!”

“Shut up! The pair of you!” Laura shouted, pushing against his chest to get him moving again. Turning her head over her shoulder, she said to Ignis in a calmer tone, “If you could handle this out here, I’ve got this bonehead to deal with.”

“Indeed, I will,” Iggy replied darkly, glaring first at Gladio, then at Noct.

Looked like Mommy and Daddy were both gonna do a little scolding this afternoon—too bad Gladio didn’t know which was which. He finally surrendered to her shoving and prodding when she pushed him to the vestibule, turning to freely walk through another seating car to the sleeping car that held their compartment. He sure as fuck hoped she was ready to do some shouting, because he definitely wasn’t done yet. That gnawing sensation was still chewing up his stomach, and it still felt like the top of his head was gonna pop off from the pressure. Still, he held the door open to the tiny room the five of them shared so she could step through first before he stalked in after her.

“And just what the hell was that all about?” she demanded as she rounded on him.

“You know what the hell that was about. I’m trying to get him to grow up and be a man so he can do his duty and become a king,” he growled at her. “We’re gettin’ so close, and if he doesn’t put that ring on, we’re gonna be fucked.”

“I’ve worked too damned hard to get Noct to confront his emotions for you to swoop in with your ridiculous notions of what masculinity or regality are supposed to be and ruin it all.”

“They’re not ridiculous!” he said before he realized he was gonna need better ammo than that if he was gonna go head to head with someone so much older than he was. Pulling out Gilgamesh’s words, he shot back, “’Fear and doubt beget death alone.’ He’s gonna go through a lot of shit before this is over, and if he’s too busy crying into yours and Iggy’s skirts, we’re all gonna be screwed. We need him to be a weapon right now!”

“Stop trying to make him into Regis!” she shouted up at him. “I know he and your dad were your heroes, but all heroes were stupid kids once, wanting to be just like their own heroes. One of these days, you’ll see it’s not a thing to be lauded.”

She seemed to lose a little of her fire as her expression sagged, making her look old and weary in a way he bet she never let Ignis see. “Regis wasn’t perfect either, you know. He allowed Noctis to be raised like this. He shut the gates and allowed that xenophobic culture to fester to the point where it became almost too easy to tear Insomnia down. Maybe this war was inevitable, pre-ordained, but sometimes I wonder if it couldn’t have been done with less bloodshed.”

“Maybe you’re right, and maybe you’re not. At this point, I don’t give a shit. All well and good to be talking about what you can’t change. I wanna know what we’re s’posed to do right here, right now, with _him_.”

“Gods damnit, Gladio, you let him be! He’s on this train right now to avenge the woman he was just beginning to love, to avenge Jared, to avenge his father. You want him to do his duty? Love is what’s gonna make that happen!”

“And I get that. Love’s important for any soldier, but you gotta lock it up. I’ve gotten this far after the death of my king, father, and chamberlain, along with probably every other friend I had back in Insomnia, cause I was able to shove all that shit aside. I didn’t sit down and cry about it. ‘Suck it up and get the job done.’”

“First of all, perhaps you should’ve—even if it was only for a moment. Second, not only is _he_ different from you, his destiny is different from yours. Is it such a foreign concept that he should need different tools, different strategies for coping?”

She shook her head, looking down at the floor, and it was only after his ire was starting to cool a little that he’d noticed this was the first time he’d seen her up close in a while. Letting his eyes wander over the purplish-blue veins in her sallow skin, the shadows under her dull-blue eyes, he wondered just how bad these episodes had gotten to affect her like this. Was Iggy fully aware of the situation?

“I’m surprised at you, honestly,” she said with a weary sigh, running a casual finger along the window frame. “You’ve shown Ignis so much compassion and empathy.”

“Iggy’s not the one who’s gonna have to save the world,” he said gently as he studied her. “And he’s proven he can kick his own ass and do his job at the same time.”

Her gaze shot back up to his, her expression turning hard again as she glared up at him. “And for gods’ sakes, stop taunting him to use that ring. You know what it does; you saw it sucking the life out of Regis for years. There’s absolutely no benefit to him putting it on before the very last moment. You are his Shield, Gladio. A Shield—”

“Yeah, lemme stop you right there,” Gladio said, because he might’ve been less experienced than her in a lotta things, but not in this. “Been gettin’ those lectures from my dad, from Cor, the King, from fucking Gilgamesh himself. Ain’t nothin’ you’re gonna say I haven’t already heard, Princess.”

“You should know me better by now to know that I am _not_ your father or any other man you’re thinking of. He may have believed that a shield protects a man’s body in battle; it’s less obvious that a shield also protects his heart and mind. I know you’re frightened, and I don’t blame you. But I need you to tr—"

As far as he could tell, nothing had happened, but Laura’s eyes suddenly slammed shut, the tendons in her face twitching as she clenched her teeth and sucked in a long, harsh breath through her nose.

“Fuck!” she roared, reaching out to slam her fist against the window next to her. The glass splintered under her hand, the shards digging into her knuckles as she left wet, bloody trails glistening like crystal on the sharp fragments, but it held in place. Gladio rushed to her side as she collapsed on his bunk behind her, her hands reaching up to clutch at her face.

“Hey, Princess?” he asked hesitantly, pulling her to his side and holding her tightly as he’d seen Iggy do when this happened in private. But Iggy was handling Noct right now and definitely wouldn’t come until he was satisfied with Noct’s response, so Gladio stayed to do Ig’s job. He’d never been the one to comfort her like this during one of these episodes she’d started having off and on since they’d left Altissia— had never felt her trembling like this under his arms. “They’re getting worse, aren’t they? Definitely getting more frequent,” Gladio murmured into her hair as he rocked her back and forth. “You got any ideas besides the fire and the skin of the universe thing?”

“No. I know it’s not like last time,” she said weakly as she went limp in his arms. “There’re no paradoxes, no gates—the cuts aren’t clean enough. It’s almost like . . . shockwaves of some major nexus are sending out ripples, microtears in the universe, and multiple people in pain are trying to reach out—powerful telepaths. They’re calling out for help, but they hurt.”

Gladio had opened his mouth to ask what they could do about it, even though he knew the answer was probably gonna be ‘nothing but wait,’ when the door to their compartment opened swiftly, revealing a hard-eyed Iggy standing in the doorway staring down at Laura.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, but the way he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes a little was enough to let Gladio know there was a secret side to this conversation.

“I’m gonna get outta you guys’ hair,” Gladio said, pulling away from Laura and standing to squeeze past Iggy in the doorway. “Lemme know if I can do anything.”

“I have him stabilized,” Iggy said, nodding back toward the seating car. “See to it you don’t undo my careful efforts.”

Really, he wasn’t sure if it was a promise he could keep, but the best he could do was give them a little peace of mind. “You got it,” he said quietly, shutting the door behind him.

When he returned to the seating car, cringing a little when a little boy cowered as he passed, Gladio found Prompto immediately in the same seat he’d left him, staring out the window looking like he was trying not to cry. The top of Noct’s spiky black head was visible over a seat several sections down, hopefully lost in thought about what he was gonna do about Gladio’s words.

Gladio collapsed on an empty bench near the back of the car, leaning his head against the warm glass and watching what looked like Leide roll by. If it weren’t for the fact that train systems didn’t exist in Lucis besides the Underground in Insomnia, he could almost pretend he was on his way home after a trip to Altissia to see the Prince married off. King Regis would still be holding the Wall up over the completely intact city, Jared would usher him inside and ask how his trip had been, Iris would be working on something stupid—like math homework—and they’d both sit down with their dad at dinnertime.

And hell, while he was dreaming, he might as well raise his mom from the dead.

They were all on their own—left in charge of a barely-existing country as the world and their King fell apart around them—and there was no point pretending otherwise. Gladio didn’t have a fucking clue what to do now—how to handle Laura’s episodes, how to handle Noct’s apathy. Laura’s little speech hadn’t helped much—he still didn’t know how he was supposed to protect Noct’s heart and mind, especially when the kid was refusing to step up and do his part. And the only person who could be of any help at all was running back and forth making sure they all didn’t fall pieces.

“I know better than everybody thinks I do, you know,” Gladio heard Noct say, and his head shot up to see the kid himself sitting in the seat across, staring down at his boots. “I’ve known a long time. Whether I like it or not, I’ve got a duty to fulfill—as King.”  

“You’re damn right you do,” Gladio shot back, but his tone had no real grit behind it, as the fight had gone out of him after his discussion with Laura.

“Just cause I’m not my dad doesn’t mean I don’t have what it takes,” he said quietly, still staring down at his boots. “It actually takes both more and less than you’d think.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Gladio asked, but Noct only shook his head and sighed in response. Gladio wanted to shake it out of him—beat it out of him with a good spar like he’d always done when they were kids, but if these people were nervous about their presence now, he didn’t imagine a good spar in the middle of the train would help matters much. Instead, Gladio lowered his head and squinted up at that familiar, boyish face in an effort to get anything off his downcast expression.

Noct had always looked like a sullen, petulant teenager to Gladio, even if Iggy’d insisted that it hadn’t always been that way—those dull, sleepy eyes and that frown that always made him look like he was about to either cry or flick someone off. But studying him now, Gladio could make out that same world-weariness he used to see in Iggy, the same age he sometimes saw in Laura. Had Lunafreya’s death really affected him that much? Yeah, they’d written to each other in that book for years, but he’d barely known her, really. Just what the fuck had happened on that altar to change him, Ig, and Laura so drastically?

“Nothin’,” Noct mumbled. “It’s just . . . remember what my dad said before we left?”

“Said we should remain by your side, and that’s a promise I intend to keep. Just that I’d rather not die in the process if I can help it.”

“He also asked that you not guide me,” he replied, letting out a weary sigh as he reached up to play with his bangs. Dropping his hands again, he said, “I’m gonna need you guys to trust me at some point.”  

Gladio put his hands on the hot, green cushion on either side of him, leaning forward to inspect the spatters of mud splashed across the black leather of his boots. He’d resigned himself to protecting Noct the day Noct had covered for Iris because he saw that the kid had heart, if not necessarily everything else a man needed to be a good king. He’d followed behind Noct on this crazy-ass trip because it’d been his duty, but he’d mostly relied on himself—and maybe Iggy and Laura—to keep himself alive.

Trusting the King with his life was supposed to be part of his job, just as the King was supposed to trust his Shield. But could he trust _Noct_ with his life? He’d gotten them this far, and the fact that he was part Astral had to count for something. It wasn’t gonna be an easy thing, changing a lifetime of habit, but he guessed with them heading into the belly of the beast, it was pretty much now or never.

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”

***

They didn’t have a lot of time before the train was due to arrive in Cartanica—probably why Claustra had booked them a night train so they could sleep through most of it. Gladio settled into his usual bunk—the lower one on the opposite side of the room from Noct—squeezing his too large frame into the too short space and ignoring the scratching of the obnoxiously yellow sheets against his skin. And yeah, he was trying pretty hard not to think too much about why they’d chosen yellow as a color for bedsheets. As the mattress above him sagged and shook with Prompto’s weight, Gladio looked over to see Ig spreading his hand protectively over Laura’s middle. With a serene smile, Laura raised her arm to place on top of his, entwining their fingers.

At least something was right in this shitty world, even if it was still weird as hell to see him touching someone like that. He wondered how much easier this whole ordeal had been on the both of them just because they took such good care of each other.

Maybe, one of these days . . ., but that kinda connection made them more vulnerable, too. He got that a guy didn’t choose when to fall for someone, but the battle in Altissia proved that it’d be best if Gladio waited until after the darkness had been banished before he tried to find anything. He’d thought he might’ve made a connection back in Altissia, but after the way things went down there . . ..

“Whaddya do all night if you don’t need much sleep?” Prompto asked. “It’s not like camping or Lestallum where you can go cook things or whatever. Come to think of it, haven’t seen you make bread in forever.”

“Made a lot in those twelve years, you know,” she said amusedly, but she turned her head back toward Ignis a little, even though his chin was resting in her hair. After a few seconds, she said, “I spend most of the evening in Ignis’s dreams.”

“You mean like, literally inside his dreams?” Prompto asked. “Talk about living in a dream world!”

“She shows me her memories,” Ignis said in a sleepy voice, his eyes still closed.

“Whoa, that’s hardcore. You don’t think . . ..” The sag in the middle of the mattress above Gladio’s head shifted to the left, the bunk creaking with the movement, and Prompto’s fingers came into view as he hung them over the side of the bed.

“You think you could show us some of the stuff you’ve shown Iggy one day? Like, take us to other planets and stuff?”

Actually, that was a pretty damn good question. Gladio had always been curious about their relationship, even more so once he found out about their telepathic thing. This new information made their connection that much more enticing, but he’d always believed it to be a kinda private romantic thing he had no business asking about. Of course Prompto wasn’t gonna catch on to something like that, but that wasn’t gonna stop Gladio from taking advantage and listening very closely to the answer. Leaning up on his elbow to get a better look at her as she responded, he noticed that even Noct had leaned all the way over in his bunk to look down at them.

Grimacing a little, she said, “What is it with you boys and telepathy? Never seen humans so interested before.”

“When Iggy told me about it, he made it sound . . . kinda cool,” Noct said.

“Wait, you knew?” Prompto asked, and Gladio could almost see him shaking his head up there. “Weekly meetings, man.”

“Just as long as you don’t start insisting on daily standups and electing a scrum master,” Laura snorted.

“Uh . . . no? Don’t even know what that is.”

“Well, either way, I can’t share that with you guys. Sorry. Ignis and I couldn’t even commune like that until we bonded. The most I’d be able to do is send you messages and some emotions. Noct can tell you from his experience with the gods—it’s not particularly exciting.”

“Ugh,” Noct groaned, flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling of the train car. “Not exciting at all.”

“Bummer,” Prompto mumbled, his hands disappearing from over the side of the bunk.

Well, that sucked, but Gladio kinda figured that would be the case. He was beginning to learn that everything, especially the good things in life worth having, came at a cost. It looked like Iggy’s cost had been surrendering his heart, and maybe a piece of his sanity, for the rest of his life, but it seemed like it was a cost he was more than happy to pay.

It grew quiet for a couple of minutes, the only sound in the car being the rhythmic clacking of the metal wheels against the track. He hadn’t thought so when he first boarded, but the constant vibration and the gentle rocking of the train was kinda peaceful, in a way. Even though the light in their compartment had been turned off the second they’d lain down, the bright moon shining through the magically-repaired window cast everything in a dim glow.

A sharp intake of breath made him look back to the bunk across, where he caught sight of Laura grimacing in pain as Iggy pulled her closer, his eyes closed like he was fast asleep, but his brow furrowed in concern. A few more deep breaths and a shudder, and her expression went lax as she opened her tense eyes to meet his.

“Are you okay?” Prompto asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” she said in a low voice, stroking at Iggy’s hand, but he didn’t move or respond. “You know how these things go. I’ll let you know when I know more.”

“You knock him out, or what?” Gladio asked, nodding at Iggy.

It was probably one of the worst-kept secrets back in Insomnia that Iggy’d been living off caffeine and maybe two hours of sleep a night for quite some time, and in the beginning of their trip, it looked like a habit he was planning to continue. Since he and Laura had gotten together, however, he seemed to pass out the second his head hit the pillow. Gladio’d thought it was because all that hunting out in the wild was finally getting to him in a way the office work hadn’t; after all, nothing was better than a full day’s workout for knocking oneself out. But now that he’d thought about this telepathic connection and this dream world thing, there was probably more to it than that.

Laura nodded. “He has trouble turning his mind off.”

“Probably all that coffee he drinks,” Prompto chuckled.  

“Nah, he’s had a problem with it his whole life, far as I know,” Noct said.

Laura’s expression turned knowing as she continued to stroke Iggy’s hand. “Curse of the genius, I’m afraid. He makes plans, lists, tallies up your finances, reviews research on the places we’re going, worries about you all.” She paused when her eyes met Gladio’s, her brow furrowing. “He knows I do it.”

Gladio raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I wasn’t accusing. Good to see him gettin’ some sleep.” The memory of Ignis Scientia, the cold, unflappable genius, clinging to her dead body every night for two weeks swum behind his eyelids. “He had nightmares every night you were dead, you know, even when you were at the hotel with him.”

“Altissia was hard on all of you, in more ways than one.”

“You got that right,” Prompto mumbled, and even from across the compartment, Gladio could see Noct nod silently in the moonlight.

“Yeah, well, war hardens us all,” he said dismissively, staring up at the underside of Prompto’s mattress.

“You don’t have to let it, you know,” she said quietly. “It was your first real battle, and still a pretty tame one at that. You know how many I’ve been in?” She shook her head. “Thousands. You guys started out on this journey with all the training and none of the experience, thinking you knew what lay ahead of you. You were all so wide-eyed and innocent—still are to a certain extent.”

As much as he hated to admit it, given where they were headed, she was probably right. They’d spent years sparring and practicing in the Crownguard training room, doing a couple hunts on practice dummies in the little copses that barely counted as a forest on the edge of the city. But the first time he’d put a blade into something with a beating heart had been that second day out in the Weaverwilds, and another couple of weeks before he’d killed fellow human being—a man with hopes, dreams, and a family, just like himself.

Fucking Astals, but he’d been a naïve little shit before this trip, growing up thinking he knew how tough his life was, how tough it was gonna get as Shield to the Chosen. They’d prepared him to kill since he could walk, but he’d been Crownsguard—everyone knew Crownsguard were just glorified police. His dad hadn’t seen any real action since the attack on Tenebrae, and then the Great War before that. Gladio had believed his life was gonna be covering Noct’s ass while he held up the Wall and did whatever he was supposed to do with the Crystal to dispel the darkness. But this? Nothing could’ve prepared Gladio for this—losing everyone at once, kinda losing his sister, losing all those hard days that now seemed so carefree.

“I’m trying to preserve as much of that innocence as I can,” she said. “You may have thought that I was ordered to go on this mission as a backup Shield, and I suppose, in a way, that’s true. But do you remember what I told you earlier about what a shield is supposed to do? I’ve tried my best to balance the wonders of the world with the horrors of war so you’re all still human when this is over—so there’s still enough of you left to find joy in the rest of your lives.” She let another moment pass with nothing but the sound of that incessant rocking and vibration between them all before she whispered, “Ignis was the most in danger of that—losing himself to this. He’d never known joy.”

“When was your first kill?” Gladio asked softly, knowing it was definitely not the kinda thing he should ask another soldier, but he needed to know—needed to know how young she was when she became old. After all these years and all those battles, how was there enough of her left to feel anything at all, let alone joy?

Her eyes seemed to stare past him as she answered, “I was nineteen, and the man I loved was going to die saving the world.” She chuckled humorlessly. “My first kill? Half a million sentient beings with the wave of a hand. And let’s face it; it wasn’t so I could save the world. Ripped open the heart of the most powerful being in all of creation so I could save _him_. It’s one of the reasons I try not to do it, fall in love, if I can help it. It’s dangerous for someone with my abilities.”

“They were . . . bad though, right?” Prompto asked.

“Oh, yes. They were going to kill every living person on the planet before heading off to conquer the universe, but that doesn’t necessarily make it right. The reason you kill is almost as important as who you’re killing. Still, I’d do it again, and do the same for Ignis—sacrifice any amount of good I have for any of you.”

“Ig wouldn’t want that,” Gladio said firmly, “but he’s a lucky man all the same.”

“Is he? I’m not so sure. Ardyn put together that whole charade on the altar to target him. Was it to get a hold of me? Come to think of it, I almost hope so. Otherwise I’d have to think he did it solely to torture Ignis. And then look at what I did to Ardyn in retribution.”

“Saved him though. Saved me,” Noct muttered.

“Yeah, and you make his dreams come true,” Prompto added. “Literally.”

Laura closed her eyes and sighed, moving her fingers up to brush against Iggy’s arm, her features tight and tired and _old_. How many wars had she lived through after she’d lost the one that killed her planet? He’d never really thought about how lively, how wondrous, how fucking sweet and innocent she seemed for someone who had been through all she had claimed. Thinking of how jaded Cor and Clarus were after only one war, he was starting to see how much effort that must’ve taken on her part.

What would happen to the four of them if they all followed his dad’s advice? _Suck it up and get the job done._ Sure, there was nothing more important than getting their duty done, but what about the rest of it? If they survived long enough, how were they supposed to find it in themselves to live when this was all over? They’d been raised on the stories of heroes, like Cor the Immortal, but he’d never really thought about the fact that heroes were born of war and strife, blood and regret, and the loss of innocence. When was the last time Gladio had heard Cor laugh?

Was there another option? Laura had proven that she could do her duty, and do it well, while still feeling things. That spark in her had kept them all going so far—with her tea and her bread and her turning everything into a gods damn miracle. She’d even changed Iggy into a completely different man.

He’d been kinda pissed to find out she was coming along at first, thinking King Regis hadn’t felt confident enough in his abilities as a Shield and decided to send along a second. But beyond the occasional emergency, she hadn’t really protected them all that much physically. Instead, she’d pointed and quoted and laughed as she skipped through the dark singing a merry nutball tune like a damned crazy woman—and he was starting to get why.

“Think I might get what you were saying earlier,” he said quietly in case the others had fallen asleep.

“The four of you have such beautiful souls, Gladio. It’s my honor to protect them.”

And of course, she had to go and make it weird by talking about their souls. He didn’t really know how to respond to that kinda shit, so he searched for a way to change the subject.

“So what memory are you gonna show him tonight?” he asked, nodding toward Iggy.

“I thought, after his reaction to the shou puerh,” she said with a soft smile, “he might like to visit The Library.”

“Nerds,” Noct let out on an exhale.

Gladio snorted in agreement. “You guys are so fucking weird. You’ve traveled in time—been to more planets than I’ve ever dreamed of, and you’re taking him to a library?”

“Not _a_ library, _The_ Library, capital T, capital L,” she corrected. “Technologically speaking, about three thousand years in your future, the entire planet is one giant library, housing every piece of knowledge from every race in the universe. Each section is a continent covered in skyscrapers laden with books—a million million of them. Gods—the wave of scent that hits you when you land! It’s biblichor at its finest.

“Even ignoring the fact that every piece of knowledge in existence is within your grasp, the place itself is stunning—sweeping skylights, stained glass windows, heavy wooden bookcases, marble floors, and artwork from history’s master painters. And the core of the planet is a computer that holds digital copies of every book in addition to every piece of music, every movie, every master instrumentalist’s performance, every contribution sentientkind has made to that universe.”

As an afterthought, she added, “Oh yeah, and they have a coffee bar.”

“Wow,” Prompto whispered.

“Yeah, he’ll love that,” Noct said. “But when he told me about it, he made it sound real, not like you just showing him.”

“Yes, he walks among my memories, able to touch, smell, see, taste, and hear things as I experienced them. He can even interact with other people to a limited extent—human or alien. For him, it’s as though he’s truly visited those places.”

“Damn,” Gladio muttered appreciatively. No wonder he’d been different—living two days for every one of theirs as he traveled through all of time and space.

“All right, you boys have pried into my husband’s personal life enough for one night. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring it up with him tomorrow. Let him talk to you about it if he chooses.” She sucked in another sharp breath, her expression twisting, before she let out a little chuckle. “Now go to bed, before I’m forced to knock you all out!”

For once, Gladio lay awake, listening to the miles of track clattering away beneath them as the others dropped off one by one. He watched Laura suffer silently through two more episodes, with Iggy frowning and tightening his hold on her both times without waking up.

Gladio was just on the edges of sleep when he heard it, so he couldn’t be certain whether the quiet sobs he heard coming from the bunk over Iggy and Laura’s were real or imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely wanted to leave this argument in here because I feel like Gladio gets a lot of unfair hatred from this scene. And while he wasn't completely in the right here, he had a valid reason to go off on Noct like he did. And unlike in my story, he had even more reason to be terrified because Ignis was down and pretending everything was fine, and he was yet another sacrifice Gladio felt Noct wasn't paying tribute to. Hopefully, I did him justice.


	69. Chapter 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst. Heavy, heavy angst this chapter.

> He had become Fire—licking, burning, seething—from his eyes, from his hands, from his very identity—there was absolutely no room left for his existence except for this scorching purple inferno and lashing instinct. He’d relinquished his soul the moment he’d slammed that ring on his finger, so he supposed that with his damnation, he’d become more than Fire, he was Hellfire. Flaring cracks of burning lava burst through his skin, and somewhere at the back of his mind, the horror of seeing his own body consumed like this sent an alarm ringing through his primal sense. But no matter the cost, the reward of keeping his brother safe as he’d promised His Majesty so long ago would make all his years of suffering, including these last moments of his life, well worth it.
> 
> _Take my body, take my soul—whatever you demand, whatever it takes—to save my brother. Burn it all to ash._
> 
> Because his brother was quite literally the only thing left in his solitary life worth living or dying for.
> 
> For so long, he’d clenched his teeth against the physical and emotional challenges he’d been presented with in his short life—kept himself so tightly reined in that it had become a foreign sensation to express what he was truly feeling. But as he screamed his throat raw at the pure agony licking at his every nerve, he couldn’t help but feel that stirring of catharsis in the practice. Perhaps he should have done this more when he was still alive.
> 
> He’d made headway in his dance with the devil, but the raw power of the gods was ravenous, eating his very veins away into volcanic lava and ash, searing his corneas and leveling a lifetime of logical thought to mere stimulus and response. He’d been reduced to fuel to power a dying sun, but there was only so much his ephemeral husk could offer to the divine. The fortitude of his mortal shell was flagging, faltering, despite the enduring fact that his resolve _never_ would. Ignis had lost the ability to see his nemesis the moment he’d struck the deal with the Old Kings, but there was just enough left of his former self to wonder just what exactly had happened when the seething mass of oily black he’d come to recognize as the Chancellor suddenly stepped back from their battle and spoke in that gentle, condescending tone of his.
> 
> “Whew! Wasn’t that exhilarating? I think that’s enough for one day.”
> 
> And with that anti-climactic declaration, those wretched Kings wrenched themselves away from his body, leaving him not a single moment to adjust to becoming a mere mortal once more. He had no idea what had become of his adversary, but it hardly mattered with no power and no sight to fight with. All that mattered was . . .
> 
> “Noct.”
> 
> With slow, staggering steps, shivering against the afterburn of the Ringfire as the rain sapped away more of his precious body heat, Ignis dragged his heavy frame in the direction he’d last seen his liege. But the Old Kings had taken too much of him in payment after the long battle he’d already fought today, and he collapsed on the stone, reaching out across the cold, wet ground in an effort not to be denied the one comfort of knowing that Noct was safe.
> 
> Of course, it eluded him, but at least Ravus had been able to verbally assuage his fears.
> 
> Ignis could distantly hear his friends shouting his name, but he couldn’t unclench his jaw long enough to answer for fear of screaming in agony as the freezing raindrops tore off the top layer of his charred skin. It wasn’t until he felt the burning chill of fingers against his neck that he managed to turn his heavy head and groan out a final plea before his surrender.
> 
> “Please, forgive me.”
> 
> As Ignis closed his useless eyes, begging for the darkness to consume him, a warm, golden glow seemed to sparkle behind his eyelids—loving and gentle and familiar in a way that baffled him.
> 
> _Sleep, Ignis,_ a woman’s voice crooned, beckoning him lower into his consciousness, away from the pain. _You have much yet to come._
> 
> _Please._

***

 _Rose?_ Ignis asked in alarm as he stepped off the train, turning to allow Noct to pass so he could catch sight of her.

He hadn’t expected to receive any communication from her today, as they’d agreed that it was quite dangerous enough for one of them to be going down into the mines with this strange affliction, let alone two of them. To find himself presented with such a sharp visual of himself as he burned alive, therefore, was unexpected, and more than a little unsettling.

And, if the reason for it was what he thought it was, beyond infuriating.

 _Oh gods, Ignis. The source was you all along—your every alternate self, reaching out,_ she said as she stepped down from the train, trembling and pallid with the aftershock of their shared agony. _The nexus causing ripples was Altissia, and it wasn’t powerful telepaths. It’s been you, forcing our bond open._

_Do you mean to say that you’re bonded to my every self, and he’s forcing that connection open to share his suffering?!_

Ignis had spent far too much time while Rose had been dead and Noct had been convalescing contemplating the endless possible routes he could have taken the day of the battle. And just as when he’d spent his youth considering his options for likely assassination attempts, many of these scenarios ended in a lonely, painful death. How many of his carefully thought out threads had come to fruition in another universe, and how many were reaching out to Rose through these tears to share their burdens? Such selfishness certainly didn’t describe his character—at least, not this version of himself. What sort of men were these alternates?

 _They can’t help it, Ignis. It’s instinct. They’re in so much pain,_ she said with a shudder, _they don’t even know they’re doing it. And . . . I wouldn’t say high bonded—maybe something more akin to a low bond._

He could likely forgive his other selves for such a transgression; after all, he had died once himself and had reached out to her mind without a bond at all. But there was one thing that truly hardened his heart against these men—none of them had figured it out in time. Not one of these men had put the clues together to realize that Noct had never been in danger, that putting on the Ring had been a completely pointless venture. Even the so-called victory he had just witnessed had yielded no reward, as the Chancellor could have just as easily stabbed Noct after he’d collapsed. What had been the point? That man had died for nothing at all, leaving Noct to shoulder this burden without him.

Of course, that version of him had made the sacrifice in good faith, but why had the Old Kings allowed him to do so, knowing full well that his nemesis couldn’t truly be defeated? And not just a nemesis—even worse, likely a relative of the Founder King, the Mystic, a man Ignis would have likely spoken to the moment he put on the Ring and pleaded for the power to save Noct’s life. The forfeiture of his own meagre existence for not even the guarantee that his brother would survive to a ripe old age, in fact, for nothing at all, set loose a seething revulsion for all those whom he’d once revered—the gods and the Old Kings both.

At least Ignis had learned something from this torturous vision—that charade on the altar _had_ been for his benefit, and not simply to gain control of Laura. But why? Why would the epitome of all evil in this world take such a vicious and personal interest in him?

_I can’t say for certain, love, but usually because of some silly, psychological reason. And . . . I’m not sure that version of you is dead._

Ignis took his place beside Noct, glancing back briefly to ensure Laura wasn’t going to lose her footing as she continued to quiver, but it seemed that the event had passed. There would likely be another very shortly, however, given their frequency last night during their trip to The Library and this morning at breakfast.

“You guys wanna hit up this dining car later? Gotta be better than that slop they were serving on our train,” Prompto said, pointing to the spare train car secured over the deep ravine just across the platform. It was likely serving as a permanent train station, which was rather clever, Ignis supposed, as it alleviated the burden on the Empire to spare resources to build a station that saw so little business.

“The food’s not Paul’s fault,” Laura mumbled.

  _Are you certain it wouldn’t be better if you stayed behind?_ Ignis asked innocently, though he knew she could detect that hint of worry in his request.

“Maybe give ‘em a shot on our way back,” Noct suggested.

“Same company, doubt it’s gonna make much difference,” Gladio said.

The five of them made their way up the steps and onto the wooden boardwalk that doubled as an observation deck, heading in the direction where Ignis had spotted a set of stairs leading down.

 _And leave you on your own when the connection is blown wide open? Not bloody likely!_ She paused when they reached the stairs, gesturing the four of them to the railing. _Should we tell them now, or wait until we’re done with this?_

Ignis stepped up beside her, taking her hand and holding it between his hip and the railing so that it wouldn’t be too obvious they were putting on a public display. As Noct placed his hands on the railing next to Ignis and Gladio took Noct’s other side, Prompto ducked under Laura’s outstretched arm.

“Wow,” Prompto breathed. “Wait, lemme get this shot,” he said before pulling out his camera to take a few shots of them lined up against the stunning backdrop.

“For all its desolation, this place is actually beautiful,” Laura said in a small voice.

_Our excursions to procure Royal Arms have thus far been perilous. We should wait so as not to afford them any more distractions than necessary. They are, at least, already aware of your attacks._

Squeezing her fingers tightly and doing his best to lend her his strength, he said, “Yes, the land reflects the sunrise in a rather unique way here. The effect is stunning.”

Ignis had never seen a landscape so unnaturally orange in his life. The dusky glow seemed to emanate from the very land and water itself, as the sun wasn’t yet visible over the rocky horizon. But even as they watched, the light seemed to shift in a slow gradient to shining gold—reflecting off the water of the Sathersea and turning the Succarpe Mountains into misty, imposing shadows, their majesty only diminished by the scar of retaining walls protecting the oil fields from their treacherous rockslides.

“Sunrise is kinda late though,” Prompto remarked with a frown.

“Yes,” Laura sighed. “And if yesterday’s trend is anything to go by, it’ll set ridiculously early. We’d better get going.”

Laura’s next episode hit just as Ignis pressed the button to open the clanking, groaning doors of the rusty metal cage they had the nerve to call an elevator.

Except for perhaps in their darkest moments in Altissia, Ignis had never felt such a crushing wave of fury roaring off her. Her sharp intake of breath forced them all to stop and stare as she glared at Noct with deadly ice in her cold blue eyes.

“What?” Noct asked, taking several small, retreating steps into the elevator, and for a fleeting moment, Ignis wondered whether he would have to step between the two to stop her from killing their own charge. “Is it another attack?”

Whatever had made her so angry apparently hadn’t been a powerful enough of a projection to break through the wall she’d reestablished while they’d watched the sunrise, so Ignis settled for stepping close to look down at her questioningly, raising an eyebrow for some sort of clue as to what had just happened.

“Yeah, sorry,” she said, shaking her head clear as the little metal box complained its way down the long, dark shaft. “I just have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.”

“Gettin’ a Royal Arm—you bet it is,” Gladio agreed, crossing his arms over his chest.

***

Though the tree was small compared to the Arkhein on Miriásia, Ignis couldn’t help but take a moment to marvel at the sheer size of it—here in real life on his very own planet. That the tree had managed such a prodigious size in the short amount of time since the enormous mining machine had been abandoned was truly a remarkable testament to the strength and wonder of nature. The maze of twisted roots spanning the ravines of the mines, serving as bridges wide enough for them to walk two by two, not to mention the entwined tree trunks seizing the heart of the manmade object and slowly crushing it over the span of decades, proved that nature would always prevail against human.

It was chilly enough for him to appreciate his gloves and blazer in that frigid, wet dim. The high humidity only allowed the chill to linger; to fill his flaring nostrils with the scent of wet soil; to encourage the growth of the lush moss that covered the slippery layer of mud—forcing them to consider every step carefully.

Laura had been silent—both telepathically and verbally—as they discovered the leg of the machine blocking the way. As far as Ignis could tell, she hadn’t suffered another attack, but he hung back between Noct and Laura, ready to rush to either’s aid as they dispatched congregations of gurangatches, slipped down muddy slopes, climbed up slimy tree roots, and scaled rocky drop-offs.

They had just discovered the control panel, to which they needed to find the key in order to move the machine’s leg and clear a path deeper into the mine, when echoes of a conversation he had never held floated across his connection with her, laced with silent anguish.

> “You should head back,” Noct said quietly, the tone of his voice practically screaming pity.
> 
> “Was I in the way?” Ignis asked earnestly.
> 
> “No, you weren’t. It’s just . . ..” But instead of finishing his sentence, Noct let out a long, awkward groan as though he couldn’t bear to voice his thought aloud.

What new torturous scenario was this? Was one of his alternates to become a burden to the retinue at some point? He couldn’t imagine what sort of malady would render him unable to do his duty yet capable of tagging along like a loyal dog . . . or an infant.

He would rather die.

Snapping his teeth tightly together, he resisted the urge to speed up, to place distance between himself and Laura in an effort to place distance between himself and such a disgusting event. This wasn’t her fault. Whatever this was, clearly, was entirely of his own making, albeit of a parallel’s path. Ignis didn’t hear the phantom voices again until they had reached the shed that likely held the key to the backup generators. As he assisted Noct in searching for it among the soggy piles of moldy wooden and cardboard boxes, and while Prompto used a finger to write his name in the slime that covered one of the oil drums that sat at the base of a pile, the nightmare conversation resumed.

> “Whoa! Careful, Ignis,” Prompto said as though speaking to a wayward child.
> 
> Ignis gave a low, pained groan in response. “Right. I only wish I could do more.”
> 
> “You staying alive is enough,” Gladio replied gently.

Perhaps he’d grown weary and frustrated on his other self’s behalf as they walked in silence back to the panel that would turn on the backup generators; it was the only explanation Ignis could summon for why he whirled on Laura so suddenly.

Grasping at her shoulders and growling under his breath, he said, “I don’t care. Let me in.” But he regretted the words as soon as they’d left his throat and his brain registered the sight of her face.

He shouldn’t have let this go on for so long without checking on her. It was as though she could no longer see him standing in front of her, as though a gauzy veil had been lowered over her eyes, forcing her to confront whatever reality was now battering at her mind, demanding her full attention. Her sightless gaze seemed to roll over the scenery, unable to focus on him until he gave her a rough shake and plucked at their bond.

“Ignis. Is it really you? Are you . . . mine?” she gasped as though surfacing from a great depth. She’d grown unhealthily white again, the skin around her eyes pulled tight from some unspoken pain.

“Yes, I’m yours,” he said, not truly understanding the meaning behind her question, but his answer would always be the same, regardless of the context. “Please, let me in.”

“I can’t. Even I’m having trouble . . .. You’d be swept off immediately.”

“What’s happening?” he demanded.

“Bitterness, anger, frustration, anguish . . .,” she said in a small, faraway voice, her eyes going blank again, but she seemed to come to herself when the mud beneath them shook and shifted—looking over to the control panel where Noct had just started up the backup generators. Given the rumbling in the distance and the fact that Ignis had to widen his stance to keep from stumbling as he steadied Laura, he presumed Noct had been successful in getting the stubborn old machine to move clear of their path.

“All right,” Noct said, relief coloring his tone, “let’s hurry up and get in there while we still can.”

“Don’t suppose we should think too hard about what would happen if the leg falls while we’re down there?” Prompto asked tremulously.

“Definitely not,” Noct replied.

Partially to hold her steady as they rushed over the uneven terrain, partially to anchor her to this world, Ignis wrapped his arm around Laura’s and entwined their fingers as the five of them hastened to the path that would lead them deeper into the Fodina Caestino. But even with his help, her steps stuttered and stumbled as he led her around the vibrant green underbrush; over slippery, fallen tree trunks; and along the perimeter of countless puddles of green, fetid water.

“Hey, you guys need any help?” Prompto asked from behind them, his steps slapping against the soaked ground as he rushed to catch up and grasped Laura’s other elbow. “You okay? Kinda figured this thing would come to a head here. Royal Arms, am I right?” he chuckled.

Laura smiled vacantly. “I’ll be all right. The rips are concentrated here . . . s’ difficult keeping my mind here in this universe. Wants to spread out like pancake batter.”

“Can’t afford to lose two of you right now to escort you up top. You wanna wait here?” Noct slowed in his dash forward to turn and ask.

“Wait here? Alone?” Gladio said. “Not a good idea.”

Placing a hand on Laura’s head to assist her in ducking under a branch, Ignis replied, “The situation is far from ideal, as always, but it’s best we stick together at this point.”

“All right, Specs. Just keep doing what you’re doing, then. Keep an eye on her,” Noct said before leaning back and slipping down a muddy embankment, landing in the shin-deep, green water that appeared to take up most of the remainder of their journey. Though getting their boots and socks wet was almost an evitable part of their daily travels, they’d managed to avoid having to walk directly through the water thus far, much to Ignis’s relief. He supposed that given how soaked the terrain was, this was bound to happen at some point today. Upon disturbing the swampy water, their boots sinking at least two inches into the muddy bottom, Ignis was still able to find it in himself to be grateful they’d managed to walk around the pools in the level above and spare his feet this long.

“Ugh, this place reeks worse than the Vesperpool,” Prompto complained, pulling his boot free of the muck with a dramatic sucking sound.

“Rotting detritus,” Laura replied in a small voice.

“Shh. You hear that?” Gladio asked, and as even their breaths went still, Ignis could hear a distant splashing, as though something large were thrashing in the water in the wide-open space ahead of them. Squinting into the heavy cloak of white mist settling over the water, he pointed to where he could just make out eight flailing shadows low to the ground several yards away.

“Just there,” he whispered. “Wait a moment before you attack.”

Turning back to Laura, he cast his eyes around their surroundings, searching for a safe place to leave her while they handled this. He gripped the tops of her bare arms, gently pushing her back to sit on a large boulder that was half-buried in the soft banks of the shallow lake. Though he knew it would make little difference to her comfort, Ignis summoned her Glaive jacket, placing it over her shoulders as a gesture of his care, since he couldn’t be there with her in mind.

“We’ll return shortly,” he said gently, cupping her chin between his thumb and fingers and lifting it to meet her eyes. “Will you be able to battle should the need arise?”

“I’ll be fine, love,” she said, her expression growing clearer as she focused on him. “Intuition.”

“Very well. Please open the connection should you run into trouble.” Reluctantly, he turned to wade toward the others as they approached the group of what appeared to be gurangatches guarding the base of a curtain of mossy, green tree roots. “No rest for the wicked,” he muttered, summoning his daggers and doing his best to step lightly in the thick muck under his boots.

“Say your prayers!” Prompto yelled as he got off his first shot, and the eight creatures turned as one to bear down on them in retribution.

The animals were surprisingly fleet-footed as they waddled toward the group, their jaws wide open and snapping with filthy yellow teeth. Ignis feinted to the left before spinning to the right as quickly as he was able in the ankle-deep water, flipping over his chosen lizard’s sharp, blue elbow fins to drive both of his blades between the creature’s ribs. Before the gurangatch could turn its spiny head to rip him apart in retaliation, he gripped the buried blades more tightly as he hefted his lower half up, using the hilts as handles to flip to the creature’s other side. Wrenching the blades free with a bloody, sucking, squelch as his feet landed on the other side of the beast’s back, Ignis took no time in burying the Lliamérian mithril into the animal’s other side before it could whip its head around to snap his leg off.

“Yeah! That’s our Iggy!” Gladio cheered as the creature threw back its head and hissed in its death throes.

“Surprised?” he remarked, marking a second gurangatch that was headed in Noct’s direction and leaping on its back. “Excellent, Noct!” he added as Noct phased out to avoid a snap of razor sharp teeth before flipping in the air and warp-striking his creature from behind.

“You shouldn’t do that elemental thing from Altissia often, right? How bout you do the sagefire instead?” Noct asked when he’d landed.

Ignis’s second gurangatch had only just flopped at his feet with a splash of rotting water, soaking his trousers. Eyeing a third that Gladio was struggling to fight alongside another, Ignis crossed his blades, sending his roaring fire through his palms to the tips of the steel as he raced to Gladio’s aid, leaving two blazing trails in his wake. The fiery, heated metal tore through the creature’s flesh, leaving behind charred slashes in its scaly skin.

“Oh, hi there, opening!” he heard Prompto laugh just before the exploding sound of his pistol echoed off the high cave ceiling.

Concentrating on the splash of the creature’s throes, the slapping click of its closing jaws, the scent and taste of rotting fish on the air, Ignis stepped back and waited patiently for just the right moment. A quick inhalation indicated the gurangatch was about to open its mouth to attempt to rip him in half. Tossing his right dagger into the air, Ignis leaned to the side and sent it flying with a somewhat less than graceful kick, but the ground was quite slick, after all. The blade found its mark, burying deep in the roof of the creature’s mouth and stabbing at the brain as Ignis had intended. As it dropped limply into the puddle of muck, he held out a casual hand, summoning the dagger back before dismissing both.

“Yeah! Nice one, Ig! Get Laura and let’s head on in,” Gladio said, slapping his shoulder.

Ignis slapped him back with a broad smile as that familiar rush of victory zinged through his blood. Really, if it weren’t for the stench, this would almost be diverting. Of course, he was reminded of how dire their situation secretly was as he waded back to Laura’s pale and shivering form. The high of survival faded immediately as he drew nearer, and his vision seemed to shimmer in front of him. He blinked in an effort to clear the mirage from the air, to no avail.

“Rose?” he asked hesitantly, stepping toward her, but a splash coming from behind them made him step back, searching for the sound as he held his hands at the ready to summon a weapon.

“It’s not real. You got pulled into the vision,” Laura breathed, and it was fortunate that she did, as the sight might have compelled him to believe he was going mad.

A doppelganger, an almost perfect copy of himself was standing with his feet planted in front of a gurangatch, a dagger in one hand and what appeared to be a black, polished cane in the other. The man seemed to be attempting to beat the creature off with the cane before jabbing the blade several inches to the left of what should’ve been his target.

Ignis clearly recalled his fighting style before he’d begun Laura’s rigorous training regiment, and while he hadn’t always been the fastest on the field, he had _always_ , at the very least, been a master of bladework. Had this version of him always been incompetent? Was this the same man whose compatriots were treating him so patronizingly? He could plainly see why, if so. For a start, this version of him could probably improve his aim greatly merely by taking those impractical sunglasses off in such dim lighting.

 _Ignis, look out!_ Laura called out to the man.

The other Ignis looked sharply in their direction, and it was only then that he could see what had caused the man’s friends to treat him as though he were incapable, what had caused him to seem to forget how to handle a weapon. Even with the dark shades, the extensive scar that was sealing his left eyelid shut was clearly visible, peeking out from underneath the lens on the top and bottom. His other eye, though it appeared to be mostly undamaged, was also closed tightly.

Ignis’s own eyes darkened at the sight of the familiar scars slashed across his nose, lip, and eyebrow. The altar—this had likely happened to him on the altar. Had the Chancellor blinded him? Was that what would’ve happened had Rose not rescued him and he’d been unable to reach the Ring?

_Step back, Ignis, now!_

The man staggered back, but not in time to prevent the gurangatch he was fighting from clipping his leg with the tip of its teeth, catching his trousers and sending him tumbling on his backside in the muddy water. As the creature turned for another attempt, Ignis summoned his daggers to his hands, ready to defend . . . himself from a painful, violent death, but Laura held him back.

_We can’t touch anything. We’re not really here._

_No!_ Ignis and Laura cried out as the reptile’s jaws aimed for the other man’s thigh, positioned perfectly to rip his femoral artery open.

Just as Ignis was absolutely certain the blind man was going to meet his end in this putrid, rotting cave, a wall of steel flashed over the gurangatch’s head, slicing cleanly through its neck and covering the other Ignis in a deluge of blood.

***

> “You all right there, Ignis?” Gladio asked gruffly, pulling him to his feet.
> 
> “Yes, I appreciate the assistance, truly. Thank you,” Ignis said quietly, attempting to cover the tremor in his voice—not completely successfully. “If you all wouldn’t mind . . . indulging me in a moment of privacy?”
> 
> A moment of silence told Ignis that Gladio was likely studying his expression for some clue as to his thoughts. Would that he could do the same in return. This pointless bickering couldn’t continue for much longer with the trials they were about to undergo, and honestly, it was wearing at what thin shell of composure he had left. That roiling despair was eating him alive, undermining and chipping away at his meagre attempts to accept that he would now be a fraction of the man he once was for the rest of his life. Yet he still had every intention of overcoming the obstacles ahead of him, despite the fragility of his hope. Had Noct and Gladio been able to accept these new circumstances in stride, Ignis felt he’d be able to bear this crippling uselessness more easily, perhaps even unlock his dark and frigid thoughts enough to begin his attempt at rebuilding.
> 
> “Yeah, we’ll keep an eye out,” Gladio mumbled before retreating with heavy, sloshing steps.
> 
> Ignis waited until the sound had grown quiet enough before turning, keeping his eye closed—because what was the point? He’d seen only darkness since Altissia, save for the glittering gold that had ushered him to sleep and saved him from going mad with the pain.
> 
> It was the same glittering golden aura that surrounded the woman somehow standing just to his right, visible behind his eyelids.
> 
> “I can see you,” he said in such a low voice that he was certain the others couldn’t hear. He didn’t need to add insanity to his list of possible maladies, as his current condition was already enough of a scar on his pride. “Who are you?”
> 
> His heartbeat pounded painfully in his throat when she disappeared for a moment, only to appear closer, close enough for him to reach out and brush his fingertips across the skin of her alabaster cheek.
> 
> “A friend,” she replied, looking up at him and searching his face with worried, sapphire eyes that shone in the light of her aura. As she reached up with gentle, tentative fingers to the larger scar over his eye, Ignis suppressed the desire to flinch and step back. Though he wished with all his heart that he could, he couldn’t feel the sensation of her fingertips feathering along the apple of his left cheek. “Ignis,” she whimpered, her lower lids filling with tears. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”
> 
> “A goddess cannot constantly look after her charges,” he said with a crooked smile, “particularly one as wayward as I.” But why was he the one comforting her when he was the one drowning in anguish? It seemed the right thing to do.
> 
> “Talk to them, love,” she whispered, running an unfelt thumb along his cheek, and though he couldn't fathom a reason for it, the term of endearment immediately brought tears to his eyes, setting his still-healing corneas on fire. Astrals, this frustration was bringing his emotions far too close to the surface these days. Refusing to let them fall, he instead brought his hand up to hover over her raised arm in an attempt to touch her. “Clear the air.”
> 
> Ignis opened his mouth to agree, but her image faded and blew away as though in a stiff breeze, leaving him in complete darkness once more.
> 
> Well, then, onward on this lightless journey.

***

Laura’s eyes shot open, staring into his with fear and sorrow and worry and pity—everything his other self likely wouldn’t want her feeling for him.

“Oh gods,” she whispered, her bloodless hands trembling as he crouched in front of her and held them tightly. Ignis wouldn’t bother asking if she was all right; he’d seen the vision nearly as clearly as she had. Instead, he begged her not to close the connection again, wrapping the tendrils of his mind tightly around hers in a steadying embrace.

“Come,” he said, pulling her to her feet, but he didn’t let her go once she’d stepped into the water. “The others are waiting.” _What happened to him to make him like that?_ Ignis asked as they waded back to the base of tree roots where Noct, Prompto, and Gladio were inspecting a door-shaped recess covered in several large, purple sacks.

 _The Ring,_ she spat. _Those Old Kings burned you alive._

“Hey, you guys okay? Neither of you looks so hot right now,” Prompto said with a frown, and Gladio and Noct turned from the door to inspect them closely.

The truth was that none of them could do anything to assist either him or Laura without a telepathic connection, and Ignis still saw no benefit to adding a distraction and telling them in the middle of this mission. He’d seen them brush aside the conversation when Laura used what she had termed ‘technobabble’ in a casual manner, and he figured now was the ideal time to see if the tactic was a talent of hers or merely a weakness of his friends to gloss over what they didn’t understand.

Doing his best to recover from the implications of Laura’s last words, Ignis said in an airy tone, “Inter-universal disturbance—the source of these attacks Laura’s been experiencing these past two weeks. We have it under control for now, but there may be transdimensional echoes as we traverse the mines. With any luck, the waves of the nexus will begin to dissipate as we pull away from Cartanica.”

Even through her desolation, Laura sent a bolt of amusement flashing through their connection.

“Oh . . . kay,” Noct mumbled, shooting him a searching look. “But everything’s gonna be okay?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Ignis replied with a sharp nod. Gesturing toward the door, he said, “We can discuss it more thoroughly up top, if you wish, but I’d like to get this over and done with.”

As Noct turned back toward the door, Ignis said, _The only ones to survive the Ring have been those of royal blood, of **divine** blood. Rose, what does that imply?_

_That you’re also a descendant of Eos? Are you related to the Fleurets or the Caelums?_

_Ravus . . . implied that I may be, but I don’t know enough of my own history to know for certain,_ he replied, shaking his head in frustration.

_Either way, at best, you’d be a blood relation, not a magical heir of Eos—too distantly related to have inherited her power. You still need to connect to the Crystal to use magic, and as it stands, you even need a intermediary like me or Noct to do so. But it seems a likely explanation for why the Ring killed Nyx Ulric and not you or Ravus._

As Noct began slicing the purple egg sacs free of the door, Ignis grew still—slowly filling with burning, righteous anger that was threatening to swallow him whole. For some Astrals-unknown reason, the Chancellor had chosen to toy with him. And had Ignis put on the Ring, he would have been caught in the middle of a game of tug-of-war between titanic, immortal entities over his frail body—a mere plaything for the divine.

That the Old Kings had extracted a price from him to wield the power to handle the problem one of them had likely created was an insult of the highest order. Not only was the man permanently disfigured, he had been rendered incapable of functioning in his only capacity—to stand beside Noct until the end of his trials. Had his alternate’s infirmity truly been the result of saving Noct’s life, it would have been a price he would’ve been only too glad to pay—well worth the small sacrifice. _This_ , however had merely been a very real and lifelong donation to avoid calling a madman’s bluff, to stay a mockery of Noct’s execution in exchange for a sure and certain one farther down the road.

And without Laura’s help discovering all this information based on her earthly experience, how much of this was his alternate aware of? Did he know his sacrifice had been made as part of a game of chess? That it had all been for naught? What sort of future could this man possibly have ahead of him now? He may as well have died in the jaws of that gurangatch.

“Ugh, why are there so many?” Noct complained as he sawed at the sinewy, veiny tendrils attaching the fourth egg to the door.

“Sometimes ya gotta crack a few to make an omelette,” Gladio chuckled, thrusting his head in Ignis’s direction. “Just ask Iggy.”

 _No!_ Laura shoved mentally at him, causing him to flinch at the fire in her tone. _He may be temporarily set back in terms of combat and mobility, but he was only just injured. He needs time to relearn how to fight—how to do everything. Until then, he, his function in the group, is as more than a sword. Remember your mind, Ignis. Your mind is still perfectly intact._ _For frack’s sake, he was the one guiding them through that mine, telling them what to do next despite not being able to see a gods damn thing._

As soon as the final egg dropped into the water at their feet with a deep, resounding clunk, the sound seemed to shift and morph until it was a thunderous roar of moving water behind them, shaking the ground and sending freezing cold droplets up the back of his head.

“Ignis?! That’s a malboro, right? What do we do?” Prompto shouted in panic as they whirled and summoned their weapons.

“Smoke ‘em,” Gladio replied with a feral grin.

“Greatswords, machinery, and fire,” Ignis informed them, closing his eyes to better recall the text he’d reviewed only the day before on the train. “Same as the ones in Kelbass and Costlemark.”

Gladio summoned his broadsword and hefted it over his shoulder. “Stay here, Princess. Don’t need you spacing out and gettin’ pulled under, cause that water’s nasty enough we might not jump in after ya.”

“For once, I won’t argue, but be careful,” she said, stepping back under a tangle of roots.

Ignis felt her retreat from their connection as the four of them sloshed toward the wriggling, dripping, slimy ball of sickly green tentacles and suckers. He would always despise their separation, even if he could still feel her golden bridge and thread glowing with a comforting weight in the back of his mind. But she was too close to the battle and would likely feel the telepathic backlash when they defeated it, and as much as he wished she didn’t have to suffer when they hunted animals too close in her vicinity, he was practical enough that he saw no need to experience death alongside her as he had with the quetzalcoatl. She’d proven that day that she’d had a much higher tolerance for experiencing such agony, anyway; she’d at least been able to remain conscious as it died.

“Look out, Prompto!” Ignis shouted, jamming his polearm into the short green tentacle that had reached out to slap him aside. The appendage jerked back roughly as the creature slid back from them, raising its fetid maw to the rocky ceiling and letting out a rotting cloud of grey-green miasma that reminded Ignis of the smell of Insomnia on a hot summer’s afternoon when the garbage collector’s union was on strike.

“Ugh, that smell,” Noct complained, lifting his shirt over his nose. He jumped forward and shoved his sword to the hilt into the creature’s side before heaving himself back as fast as he could in the knee-deep water. “Like rotten eggs and vegetables mixed together. Feel like it’s draining me.”

“Just keep hacking!” Gladio yelled, slicing his sword through a sucker-tipped tentacle, which plopped into the water, leaving behind a gurgling, bloody hole.

“Be sure to stay out of the path of its breath, Noct. The effect will wear off momentarily,” Ignis said, thrusting himself between the Prince and the malboro before burying the blade of his lance into the beast’s body. Dropping to a crouch and adjusting his glasses in preparation, Ignis summoned all his strength to leap into the air, thrust the blade forward, and force it into the creature’s rubbery green flesh.

“Ow! Fuck!” Gladio roared. “Remind me to tell Laura to take it easy on Noct’s potion necklace.”

The longer they worked, the more enraged the beast seemed to become as it thrashed and roared, splattering them all with wet slime and rancid green blood. Though they had to have made _some_ headway on the beast, Ignis could see no evidence of it. They’d all grown weary, their enfeeblement only spurred by the magical properties of the creature’s putrid breath. Both Noct and Ignis had switched to daggers merely because they no longer had the strength to hold up their blades—and Prompto, the same with his pistols.

“I believe one last push should suffice to finish it off,” Ignis panted as he jumped back several steps to avoid a whipping tentacle. A backhand spring would’ve been far more graceful, but he’d be damned if he performed _any_ sort of gymnastic technique with his hands in this mud.

“You know,” Prompto huffed as he alternated shots left and right into the creature’s beady yellow eyes, “tentacles aren’t as fun as I was led to believe. I feel betrayed!”

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’d rather be . . . never mind,” Noct muttered.

Ignis didn’t know what the two of them were referring to, but given the topic of discussion the last time it was brought up, he firmly decided he didn’t want to know and ignored the conversation in favor of re-strategizing. He took several steps back, narrowing his eyes in thought. They’d thrown several of their strongest fire spells at the creature to no avail, but perhaps . . ..

As he readied a fire flask and waited for the opportune moment to use it, the change in tone of the conversation grabbed his attention. It sounded odd, doubled—as though two identical people were speaking at once.

 _I’m sorry, love. He’s frightened, and I can’t hold it back,_ Laura said. _Are you all right?_

> “Prompto, where’s the enemy?! Blast this blindness!” alternate Ignis cried out in frustration.

_Yes, I may have the solution that will finish this thing. Are they having an identical conversation in the other universe?_

“There’s no way we can fight like this!” both Gladios bellowed over the din.

Back in his own universe, the malboro opened its enormous mouth with a slosh of slime to spit another round of putrid black fumes into the air. Ducking to the side in an effort to avoid the noxious gas, Ignis wound up, hoping this would be the moment he’d been waiting for, but by the time the haze cleared, his window of opportunity had closed.

“Drat,” he cursed to himself.

“Gotta shut that thing’s trap,” both Nocts said in a low voice.

“What do we do?!” the Promptos cried out.

“This might be a good time to panic,” the Nocts replied.

“No!” Ignis yelled triumphantly. “I have just the thing! If you all would buy me but a moment, I believe we can stifle this spitting savage for good.”

> “No! There must be another way!” alternate Ignis ground out in frustration and determination. As he lowered the hand that was protecting his face from the spray of smelly water, he tilted his head, listening to that whisper of a voice that tickled at . . . not his ear, but his mind. Had his ‘friend’ returned to assist him?
> 
> _Trust your heart, Ignis. It knows the answer. Use your instinct,_ the woman's voice breathed into the ether.

As dearly as Ignis wished the other man had heard the answer and used his wits in a way he clearly hadn’t on the altar, he had to switch his concentration to the present, as it seemed the opportune moment had finally arrived in the form of the creature opening its mouth and offering the clear shot he’d been waiting for.

> “Noct, I have an idea. If I may . . .,” Ignis said cockily.

His alternate self must have come to the same conclusion as he, though he couldn’t be certain, as Laura disconnected from him the moment the thunderous explosion sounded in his ears. Slimy pieces of tentacles and entrails, chunks of bone, and fragments of teeth rained down on them all as he raised a hand to prevent most of it from getting into his hair.

“Eeeuuugh,” Noct groaned, also raising an arm over his head.

“My perfectly groomed hair! Thanks, Iggy,” Prompto said sarcastically, but as Ignis looked over and saw a genuine smile of gratitude spreading over his face, Ignis smiled slightly, nodding his head in acknowledgement of the sentiment.

“Saved our asses yet again, Specs. Thanks,” Noct said with a slap to the back as he waded past toward the door of the tomb.

“Happy to help,” he replied, rushing ahead as best he could to check on Laura.

He found her precisely where he’d last seen her—hidden among the mossy roots a few yards off to the side of the tomb’s door, her eyes clear and present and full of pride.

“You did it,” she laughed, flinging her arms around his neck as he approached. He settled his hands on her hips and breathed in that comforting pine-kithairon scent, drowning out the stench of the malboro as she placed her nose in the hollow of his throat and inhaled deeply.

“Is it done? Can you reestablish the connection?” he murmured against the top of her head.

_I think it’s safe now, yes._

Feeling her mindscape for any evidence of trauma left over from the death of the malboro, he asked, _Are you all right?_

_Don’t worry about me. The malboro was the least of our issues today with all of you running through my head._

_Why was it him in particular who was powerful enough to break through your shields, of all the threads of the universes?_ he asked, pulling back so they could join the others in the tomb.

_There were others calling out. So many of you went blind or were dying in Altissia, and I suppose I’ve been getting flashes of them these past weeks. His is merely the strongest, perhaps because he’s here right now, perhaps because his despair is the greatest. I don’t know._

As they both contemplated the other man’s fate, Ignis was surprised to see just how much faith Laura had in him, even without her influence, to fully recover his mobility, his combat skills, his usefulness, if not his eyesight itself.

 _I keep trying to tell you: that which you’ve accomplished is merely a result of your genius, dedication, and hard work,_ she said fondly. _It’s had little to do with me; I’m just your teacher._

“Hey Ignis,” Noct asked in a thoughtful tone as the two of them sloshed carefully through the open stone doorway. “How many Royal Arms are there?”

Ignis blinked in surprise. “As many as there have been kings, although not all of them have survived to this day. This is the last that we know of—unless we’re able to meet with Lord Ravus and procure your father’s glaive.”

“But these eleven, maybe the twelve, will represent all the kings in the Ring?”

“I would imagine so. I’d hate to think that the rest would bow out merely because their effigies were lost to time.”

“So which one was your grandpa? He only died like, thirty years ago, right?” Prompto asked. “The Wise? The Conqueror? Come to think of it, I don’t remember learning about his uh . . . special name in school.”

Noct’s eyes widened as they shot to Ignis’s. “Uh . . . I dunno. Ig?”

“King Mors never received an appellation, and I’m afraid the Marshal didn’t know where he was entombed. That information was likely lost with your father.”

“I wish we knew what happened to Luna’s trident,” Noct sighed, holding a hand out over the representation of the Katana of the Warrior.

Ignis had to close his eyes to collect himself for a moment when the katana sliced through Noct’s chest, but it merely transferred the sight of the weapons circling his brother like vultures here in the present to the vision of them stabbing him violently as he convulsed on the throne in the future—Lady Lunafreya’s trident and His Majesty’s glaive included. But as Ignis opened his eyes to tell Noct not to worry about the trident, that they would likely find the tomb of the Oracle King on the way to Gralea somehow, he took note of Noct’s expression—the resigned resolve and determination of a grown man who knew precisely what was coming for him. Had Noct always appeared this way when receiving a new power, or had Ignis’s chat with him yesterday regarding King Regis’s words made the difference?

Either way, the sight of those blazing eyes broke Ignis’s heart.

 _Does he know?_ he asked, his attention still arrested by how Noct held his hand over the point of contact, his eyes cast down and his lips parted in pain and awe in equal measure. Ignis lamented for all that had happened to his brother these past sixteen years to transform that soft, boyish expression from their youth into that of a hardened, burdened king.

He had to remind himself—they still had plenty of time to fix this when the five of them returned from Gralea.   

 _I’ve been wondering that myself since Keycatrich, but it’s not as though I could ask him._   

“All right, let’s haul ass,” Gladio said. “Never thought I’d be glad to get back to that cramped shower cubicle that thirty other people already been showerin’ in.”

“Hey, how you guys doing with that universal thing?” Prompto asked quietly, snaking an arm around Laura’s shoulder as they waded out of the swamp.

Laura gave him a tender smile. “It’s going to be all right. Thanks for asking. Like Ignis said, I’m pretty sure the situation will resolve itself the farther we get from here.”

As putrid sludge made way to twisted tree roots and cracked rock, Ignis kept his mind wide open to Laura, curious to hear from the other man that had gone through so much today.

 _I don’t think he’ll be contacting us again,_ she said with a swell of pride. _He gave them all a piece of his mind just after they got the katana. There weren’t any group hugs or anything, but I believe he started the healing process for all of them._

_I would appreciate it if you would share with me if you hear from him again. I find myself interested to know of his fate._

She nodded, but said, _As I said, there are many yous that suffered that particular injury in Altissia. Their fates run the gamut, but I’m proud of all of them. It looks like most of them will manage to pick themselves up to become fierce fighters again. I don’t know about him, in particular, though._

Dread filled his chest as a question popped into his mind, but instead of allowing it through their connection, he let it settle like a heavy fog for a moment as he sidestepped the lush green underbrush. He needed to know. Becoming a vessel for the Kings of Yore had been a very real consideration for him once. He’d expected to die the moment his objective had been achieved, but if the others hadn’t . . .. _Was that a possible fate for me? This me? I wouldn’t ask, but now that I look back on our history together, it seems as though you were preparing me for the possibility._

“Oof,” Prompto grunted as he caught his stride after tripping on a raised root. Slapping lightly at Noct’s shoulder, he said gently, “So, we gettin’ off the train in Tenebrae?”

Laura looked up sharply at Ignis. _No. There were . . . allusions to either you or Prompto somehow going blind, but prophecies can be interpreted so many ways that I didn’t dwell on the idea. Teaching you to fight as I did was coincidental; it’s standard practice among those who possess Intuition as you do. No. I think the choice for this you was always between life and death._

“Yeah,” Noct said quietly. “Think I need to. And if Ravus is there, gotta get my dad’s sword.”  

Another question floated up in his mind as they finally reached the base of the rock ledges that would lead them to the elevator—a question he would _never_ voice to her, no matter how much it plucked at his sense of morbid curiosity. Besides, his ample imagination was capable of conjuring several scenarios for his death on that day.

“Maybe you guys can pick up some of those berries you guys are so obsessed with,” Gladio said, turning back toward Ignis and Laura with a crooked smile as they walked up the path that led to the elevator.

“As long as we don’t linger too long,” Ignis replied. “The First Secretary arranged for this charade of the train being broken down to cover for us while we’re down here, but it would look suspicious a second time.”

The barred metal doors creaked shut as Prompto pushed the button that would take them back up. Though the sun had already set, Ignis was looking forward to fresh breezes, open air, and the lights of civilization—of a sort. As the pressure in his ears began to shift at their ascent, however, his vision unexpectedly shimmered, and Rose’s wave of sickening horror left him staggering back to press himself against the bars as he struggled to keep his feet beneath him.

The pain of the powers were all searing the man’s synapses at once, Ignis knew—time and fire and ice and lightning—far too much power for his physical frame to hold, so he was releasing it in bursts of magic on his enemy—warping and casting with reckless abandon in a futile attempt to batter the immortal into submission. But the man suddenly seemed to falter as the Chancellor took a step back from his furious blades.

His alternate self staggered three steps forward before collapsing to one knee and crumpling face-first onto a hard stone floor in painful, heaving gasps. The dark metal of the Ring of the Lucii stood out starkly against the pale, ashy skin of his outstretched fingers as he desperately reached out toward the Chancellor—whether in supplication or one final effort to tear his throat out, Ignis couldn’t be certain.

 _Ignis!_ Laura screamed in dread. _No!_

> “Noct,” Ignis groaned, his failing breath hitching on a sob.
> 
> “Oooh, for a moment, I felt death’s chill wind,” the Chancellor crooned patronizingly, sauntering toward the prostrate man, “but then I remembered I’m immortal. Such is my blessing and my curse.” Yanking Ignis’s head up by a handful of hair, he met his eyes with a deceivingly compassionate smile. “At least you won’t have to spend your last moments alone. As luck would have it, your beloved Noctis is on his way to save you as we speak.”
> 
> Ignis bared his teeth in a grimace of agony and anguish as the Chancellor thrust his reeling head to flop weakly back onto his arm
> 
> “I wonder what he’ll do when he sees his friend’s life fade before his eyes,” the Chancellor said with a wicked sneer. “That’s why I needed you. With the Crystal and the Ring, the boy has everything he needs right here.”

_Let him go, love,_ Ignis pleaded to Laura, letting her feel his fear. _I know what you’re going to do. Don’t. He would be the first to tell you not to suffer for his sake._

> Tears streamed down Ignis’s ruined cheeks as he reached out desperately toward the Chancellor.
> 
> “I don’t want to die alone,” he sobbed.

As his alternate self’s vision began to fade, Ignis knew well what would happen next, as he’d once experienced the very same phenomenon. As the man reached out with his hand, so too, would he reach out with his mind in a frantic effort to cling to this life. And because of their bad luck or location or whatever fate that seemed so interested in tormenting them, Laura would be in the unique position to hold him as he lost his tenuous grip on life.

And she would do so—no amount of pleading or demanding would stop her, he knew.

He had just enough time to send her a vehement denial, laced with his frustration and irritation, before he was thrown forcefully from the connection.

***

> The salty tears sent streams of scorching fire down his cheeks, peeling away the loose flakes of ashy skin to fall on the arm serving as his pillow. It was as though his life force were being pulled down a drain. He could feel the Ring sucking the embers of what was left of him as his sight darkened—could feel the fuel of his life’s energy being devoured as the pyre for his own corpse.
> 
> Overwhelming despair clutched his soul at the thought that this lifetime of suffering had all been for naught. Noct would still die, likely believing that Ignis had lost his life to the Ring because he’d had the audacity to reach above his station. Ignis’s humblest desire would never come to fruition—to see his brother become the great king he was always destined to be. But why was the cost of losing a battle to an immortal man death, anyway? With victory or defeat, he no longer recalled what he’d hoped to gain when he’d brought the Old Kings into this battle against an Old False King with his mortal flesh as the instrument of delivery.
> 
> As much as he didn’t wish to die alone, he couldn’t say that he didn’t deserve such a fate after what he’d rashly done. Ignis was but a servant; what right did he have to question the will of the gods as he had? Here was the torment of their judgment for having the arrogance to attempt to defy them. Still, the smallest part of him that he’d always kept carefully tethered beneath a veneer of composure wanted to wail in lamentation, to rage and rail against this fate which had left him with no other choice.
> 
> With a soft, shuddering sigh of smoke, he reached out in supplication, begging for someone, anyone, to be with him as he passed—as much as he didn’t deserve the luxury.
> 
> The sudden absence of agony disoriented him for a moment as he felt the curious sensation of gentle, questing fingers threading through his hair, and he opened his eyes to find himself not in Zegnautus Keep, but a soft, warm featureless white space. Was this death? If so, it wasn’t nearly as cold and excruciating as he’d been expecting all his life.
> 
> _Ignis, you beautiful, foolish man,_ a woman’s voice echoed through his mind, and he turned his head to look up . . . into the face of the stranger—inhumanly beautiful and sparkling in an aura of divine gold—whose lap he was apparently lying in.
> 
> “Forgive me,” he somehow managed to say as he struggled to sit up off her, but he found he couldn’t move. “I seem to be unable to—"
> 
> “Shh,” she soothed, stroking through his hair in a gesture of comfort he found he didn’t wish to shy away from. Despite his unfamiliarity with this realm, this woman, he felt as though he _knew_ her somehow. “Just relax. It’ll be over soon,” she added, bringing the hand that wasn’t cradling his neck down to caress his cheek as her eyes welled with tears.
> 
> _Please, don’t weep for my sake,_ he wanted to say to the goddess, because it felt so wrong to see the deep sorrow in her eyes for his loss. But even with his last breaths, he chose to know instead— “Who are you?”
> 
> “Oh, my love,” she said with a watery chuckle. “You are so very precious to me.”
> 
> Ignis had often heard of the cliché that a man’s life flashed before his eyes as he died, but the flickering images that poured into his mind were certainly of a life he’d never lived. As the heart-swelling, overwhelming love he’d always dreamed of but never experienced broke over him like an incandescent sunrise, he saw himself smiling with the four friends that became his true family, laughing with her, _loving_ her—this vision of divinity—with his humble flesh.
> 
> “You’re mine?” he gasped in disbelief.
> 
> “Utterly and completely,” she said, smiling softly, sadly, as she brushed the hair from his eyes.
> 
> So somewhere out there in the universes, there was a version of him living this life, being there to support Noct through the rest of his journey, working together with this goddess to save him from his cruel fate. Even if this body turned to ash, knowing that some form of him would live on, carrying out his duty and living this life he’d never dreamed to deserve soothed the scars on his soul, even as he lay here dying in her arms. If there was _anything_ at all she could bring back with her to that utopia that could help, Ignis would give his last breath, even his last few seconds of this loving embrace, to assist them—to assist Noct.
> 
> “The Chancellor,” he exhaled on a failing breath, “Founder King’s brother, False King.”
> 
> “Shh. I understand. You’ve done enough, Ignis, and you were so very brave,” she murmured before kissing the tips of her fingers and brushing them over his lips. “There’s no more pain. Just rest now. I promise to stay with you.”
> 
> Once again, Ignis found his vision darkening against his will, that pulling sensation growing more insistent against his chest as he fought to cling to this all-encompassing admiration and adoration that had _never_ in his life been focused so solely on him. All this time, he’d loved her, missed her as he’d secretly nursed that unnamable hole in his heart, and he’d never known her face until the moment of death. Finally, he knew true peace, true calm, tucked away as he was in her soul and bathing in her golden light.
> 
> As he was ripped away from what he could only describe as his paradise, one last thought echoed in his head before it too dripped and drained away.
> 
> _Remember that you are so very loved._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a few things. First of all, this is a combination of the old version of Chapter 10 and the updated version. Things have also been cut and stitched together so we aren’t running around to all the different machines. I also attached the elevator shaft directly to the mine for this story, as the few miles' journey wouldn't have added anything.
> 
> I never knew the titles to the Episode Ignis soundtrack until recently, and thanks to NightysWolf and the reddit Discord, I got to learn of the English titles and Japanese translations, completely transforming the soundtrack into diary entries written by Ignis himself. It was certainly a heart-wrenching experience that inspired that final scene—Badge of Honor/Mark of Self-Condemnation, in particular. I took language from those titles to use as Ignis’s thoughts. There is also language taken from Gorecki, by Lamb.
> 
> The English localization of the game does some rather interesting things to the translation—nowhere more than Episode Ignis. I used the French and German localizations in a couple of odd spots in the Altissia chapters, and as you probably noticed, in the “I don’t want to die alone” line.


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor angst, compared to last time—wrapping up from the last chapter. Some words taken again from Gorecki, by Lamb.

The first thing that Ignis did as his eyes shot open wide was check the bridge and her thread—locked tight and dormant, but shining and alive—much as it typically was during a hunt when she was too close to their quarry. It was only on blinking again that his brain began to register his surroundings, and he was quite bewildered to find himself sitting in the corner of the rusty elevator, his legs stretched out and Noct’s concerned face hovering inches from his.

“Iggy! What’s wrong?”

“It’s gotta be the head shit,” Ignis heard Gladio say, but he couldn’t see him past Prompto’s fretting form shifting back and forth between him and the other corner of the elevator.

Ignis scrambled to get his feet beneath him long enough to stumble past Prompto, push Gladio out of the way, and fall to his knees in front of Laura.

“Yes, it is,” he said tonelessly, reaching out to cup her bloodless cheek as he examined her sightless eyes, covered in a sheen of tears.

“You were so very brave. There’s no more pain,” she mumbled in that faraway voice she’d been using all day today.

Biting down on the anger and frustration swelling in his chest, he leaned close to her and said in a low, urgent voice, “Astrals, Rose, don’t do this, please. He’s going to hurt you.”

But he knew that even if he screamed at the top of his lungs and mind for her to stop this, she either couldn’t, or most likely wouldn’t, listen. Still, he had to try and bring her back before the other man faded. Grasping at her golden thread, he reached deep within himself, calling on the magic that would compel her to come to him.

As the other three took a hurried step forward, crowding around them, Noct growled, “What the hell, Iggy?”

“Did you just . . . regroup us?” Prompto asked in surprise.

“Just rest now. I promise to stay with you,” Laura whispered.

“Apologies,” Ignis replied, keeping his eyes locked on Laura’s pained expression. “I had to try.”

Gladio blew out a frustrated breath through his nose. “This isn’t an episode. What the fuck is going on, Ignis?”

Casting aside his own mounting irritation for the moment, Ignis put a hand on Laura’s shoulder, leaning her forward before wedging himself between her body and the front corner of the elevator. He’d experienced this process firsthand precisely once in his life, and he knew from that incident that touch—an anchor back to one’s own body—would be the best medicine for her right now. Her head flopped back against his shoulder as he settled her hips between his legs and wrapped his arms around her middle and chest. Yes, doubtless he’d be carrying her from this place—again.

“These episodes have been me,” Ignis said, resting his chin on her shoulder and rocking her back and forth. He could feel her labored breath picking up its pace as her ribcage pushed against his arm, and he pursed his lips at this sign that the process had begun. It seemed that, like a sabertusk, she wouldn’t let go of him even when it would be far better for her in the long run to do so. “I’ve been reaching out in every alternate universe, and in that one . . . I’m dying. As Laura did with His Majesty, she’s holding him as he dies, but it’s causing her a great deal of pain.”

He stated the facts flatly, coldly, with no embellishments and no words in defense of his other self. That the man had dragged his wife into this, had practically begged her to share in his repercussions, was wrong on so many levels that Ignis almost hoped the others would condemn his alternate self as much as he currently was. And yet . . . he imagined how easily it could have been him facing death in this moment—having never met her, never experiencing love, never being truly appreciated, never experiencing the freedom of expressing himself. As much as he detested the idea of pitying this man, of pitying himself, he did in fact feel the smallest stirrings of it.

Perhaps the neutrality of his statements would allow the others to form their own opinions on the matter, and then he could begin to work through his own swirl of contradicting thoughts.

“Is there something we can do for . . . you?” Noct asked, his face screwing up in consternation. “I mean . . . the other you? Can we save you? What happened?”

“Suffice it to say that there’s nothing that can be done for him,” he replied, loosening his grip somewhat on Laura at a particularly sharp heave of her chest.

He decided they needn’t be made aware of the precise circumstances behind his other self’s death. There were boundaries, after all, to what one’s closest family should know, and Ignis was certain he couldn’t bear to witness his actions being judged—either as heroic, cowardly, or villainous. In fact, being deemed any one of the three were all nearly equally disturbing outcomes. No, this didn’t need to be shared. It hardly mattered what this man’s motives had been; he was living out the consequences for taking a chance and failing.

Laura’s gasps were coming more quickly now, wheezing in her throat as she tried to pull more air into her lungs, so he removed the arm around her chest to stroke gently at her hair, resting his lips near her ear.

“Come back to me, please,” he whispered.

How many times would he wind up pleading with her like this?

Blind panic was emanating from her . . . through _him_ , Ignis could feel it—those first stages of telepathic death when one is experiencing precisely what the condemned is feeling. For Ignis, it had been the cold steel of the polearm that he’d hurled at the quetzalcoatl piercing his own chest, the frigid ice spell hitting him in the face and spreading numbness to his extremities. He recalled with perfect clarity how it seemed as though his heart squeezed painfully around the sharp blade several times before it ceased beating, how it took several more seconds for the neurons in his brain to slow in firing. Just before Rose had realized what was happening and cut off the connection, Ignis had had just enough time to feel the agony and hysteria of the creature, intelligent enough to realize what was happening, as his own.

This, however, would likely be far worse; the aftermath of his alternate’s death would probably be more traumatic than when she’d held the King’s mind. What would the death of an alternate version of her bondmate do to her? To them? And what could he do about it? Astrals, how he despised this uselessness!

“M’ ‘ere, love,” she slurred in a whisper between panting breaths. “You’re not . . . alone.”

“What about her? What’s this all about?” Gladio asked.

Ignis blinked in surprise, looking up at the three worried faces staring back down at them. Had she really never told them? Perhaps Prompto had been right—perhaps they did need to schedule weekly updates.

“She feels the death of every living creature as though it were her own, if she’s too near. Though she can choose to disconnect from this pain for humans,” and it was here he couldn’t help but clench his jaw tight at the wave of irritation that swept over him before continuing, “she’s elected not to, in this case, in order to stay with him.”

“Is she gonna be okay? Can we do something?” Prompto asked, bending low and holding a hesitant hand out toward her.

“Yes,” he said with a nod of permission. “Touch her. Let her know she’s not alone.”

“Neither are you,” Gladio said, crouching down to take Laura’s limp hand and clap his other around Ignis’s shoulder.

As Ignis took a moment to look at each of them in turn, each of them holding their hands out to support both him and Rose, his heart swelled at the words pushing to the forefront of his mind—comrades, friends, brothers, family—all of them. Perhaps this had happened in other universes where Laura never existed, perhaps it hadn’t, but as far as he was concerned, she’d done this—brought them together like this. And while he’d said much the same to Noct only yesterday, he was surprised to find that it didn’t seem to be _only_ Noct that they were here for, that they were willing to support.

“Thank you,” he said in quiet wonder before whispering to the wall between him and Rose, _I’m completely furious with you, you know, but we’re here. We’re all here._

No one had to be connected to her mind to know the precise moment his other self died, as she went rigid in his arms, throwing her head back with all her strength as her sightless eyes shot open—popping and rolling in their sockets.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, she drew in a deep breath and let it out on a visceral scream, “IGNIS!” And as her body’s tension eased, she took another deep breath and released it on a heart-shattering sob. “Oh, my gods,” she cried, turning to weep openly into his shoulder, her tears seeping into his muddy, entrail-covered shirt. “Ignis, no.”

Useless as he felt, all Ignis could do was continue to rock her back and forth and stroke her hair.

“Fuck,” Gladio muttered under his breath. “She knows _you’re_ not dead, right?”

Ignis opened his mouth to answer, paused to consider, then closed it again. She had said, ‘Is it really you? Are you mine?’ So she was likely having trouble distinguishing between universes. This reaction certainly was powerful enough that she may, in fact, believe it was the true him that was dying, and not an alternate.

“I—I’m not certain,” he said in a low voice before lowering his head to breathe into her ear, “Please, Rose. Just open your mind; I’m all right. I’m right here.”

“We should get her to the room,” Gladio said quietly over the sound of her sobs. Ignis looked up to see him glaring through the bars of the elevator—which had long since arrived at the platform—at the twenty or so people gathered around them, gawking and eavesdropping. “The problem might be this area, right? Sooner . . . the uh, ‘train gets fixed,’ the sooner we can get the hell outta here.”

Taking his meaning, Ignis pulled Laura into his lap, cradling her in his arms so he could get to his feet.

“Right.”

“How many times are we gonna have to carry her outta places like this?” Prompto asked, shaking his head as he pressed the button that would re-open the doors.

“So, that’s why she never did the hunts,” Noct said under his breath.

The four of them froze as the doors opened, waiting for the shop vendors and other train passengers to clear a path for them.

“Really though, is she gonna be okay once we get her to the train?” Noct asked as they wove their way through the throng.

Looking down at Laura and noting that her sobs had quieted to silent tears, Ignis deduced that she was likely in the second stage of this process—the quiet stillness of mind-death. He had only experienced this sensation for less than a minute as Noct and Prompto had hovered over him that day—until Laura had recovered enough to yank him out of the connection. In a way, it was the most peaceful part of the process—when the terror and pain disappeared, yielding to tranquil acceptance. The most difficult process was yet to come, and one he hadn’t experienced himself—realizing that her body was still alive and that she had to claw her way out of death’s maw to return to it. At the very least, he supposed, the feeling was merely an illusion; true death from the experience wasn’t possible, so her life wasn’t truly in danger.

“Eventually, yes,” Ignis said as they reached the platform and headed past the shop carts toward the Magna Fortia. “She’ll need rest and a warm meal—something easy on her digestion.”

“She’s not gonna get that second one on the train. Dining car’s got cockatrice nuggets, boxed mashed potatoes, and canned peas. Stuff’s nasty,” Gladio said with a grimace. “Will she be up to pullin’ stuff outta her Pocket, ya think?”

“I’d rather make her something specific to this scenario. I’ll have to see what I can manage. There’s just so much to do,” he replied with a sigh, turning sideways as he stepped up with her into the car. He stopped at the top of the steps, ensuring that Gladio nodded to the station master standing on the platform before boarding.

“All set,” Gladio said, climbing up the steps and shouldering past them so he could open the compartment door for them. But instead of allowing them through first, he stepped through the door, dropping to the floor and scooting back against the wall.  

“She’s not as much of a mess as you, Ig,” he said, holding his arms out. “Prop her up here while you get in the shower. Spazzy and Sleepy, you two can fight over who gets to take the shower in the other sleeping car.”

“Are you certain?” Ignis asked, leaning to deposit her carefully in Gladio’s embrace.

Gladio leaned her back against his chest, straightening her limp neck while Ignis arranged her arms. “Pretty used holding her unconscious by now. Pretty used to bein’ slimy, too. Go on.”

Ignis didn’t waste a spare second to see who would take the other shower, instead rushing to the cramped restroom behind the last door of their compartment, stripping himself free of his caked and slimy uniform, summoning his shower shoes, and stepping into the mildewy cubicle with only the slightest stirring of revulsion.

He returned to find Gladio and Prompto, still filthy, holding Laura’s hands as they sat on the floor of the car, and though he suppressed the tender smile that seemed to want to overtake his expression, he couldn’t help the slightest twitch of his lips.

“I’d like to change her into something more comfortable, if you wouldn’t mind waiting outside, please,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, no prob. I’ll go wait for Noct to come out,” Prompto said, jumping to his feet. He stopped in the doorway, holding out a hand toward the laundry bag dangling from Ignis’s fingers. “Maybe I can convince him to help with the laundry, too. We’ll come get Laura’s after you’re done.”

“That would be a feat,” Ignis replied wryly, handing over the bag. “Thank you.”  

“Sure, Iggy. You comin’, big guy?”

Gladio had already gotten to his feet with a groan, propping Laura carefully against the wall of the car before turning toward the door. “Yeah. Just let us know if you need anything, eh?”

When the door had shut behind them, Ignis crouched down beside Laura and opened his mind to their connection as widely as he could, suffusing it with warmth in the hopes that she would realize he was still alive and come back to him all that much more quickly. Starting at her thighs, he quickly undid the buckles of her muck-covered boots before loosening the laces, pulling them off one by one, and setting them aside. After pressing his thumbs into the arches of her feet for a brief minute, he removed her stockings, belt, and jacket quickly and efficiently, accustomed as he was by now with undressing her limp body.

“Who would’ve thought the skills I’d amass on this journey, Rose? You’ve been far too much trouble for me, I fear,” he said gently, though he still couldn’t decide if it was amusement or frustration dominating his emotions at the moment.

It wasn’t until he gripped the zipper tab and pulled it down to reveal her body that he had to pause to collect himself. No matter how long he lived, he would never forget the sight of her skin—pale and blue with death, freezing cold, and ripped apart from a day of savage battle. He recalled with perfect clarity how her entire body seemed to shimmer with her opalescent blood, how every rent and tear, swollen and infected, seemed to glow in that strange, alien, purple-green.

It had quite easily been the worst experience of his life.

Ignis shook his head, clearing it of the horrific image as he pulled her up to stand and peeled the suit off her completely undamaged body. She’d always hated her Kingsglaive uniform—it didn’t represent a lifetime of fealty to her King as it had, at one point, for other Glaives, and it was far too difficult to get in and out of. He’d once grown irritated with her grousing and asked her why she continued to wear it if she hated it so much; after all, they’d all worn other clothing at times. Of course, her answer only served to inspire his admiration for her all the more—that the inconvenience was worth it if it meant belonging to the group. Once they’d begun their . . . extracurricular activities after their daily sparring matches and foraging trips, however, they’d both realized the appeal of other apparel that allowed him better access to her body.

She wasn’t nearly as filthy as the rest of them had been, so Ignis allowed her to fall naked onto their bed as he pulled the suit free of her legs. Turning to the sink, which was little more than a spigot with a basin just large enough to catch the stream, he wet a cloth, wrung it out, and gently wiped her body free of sweat.  He worked quickly, hating to get her wet, as her skin felt cold enough beneath his hands from her brush with mock-death.

As he summoned a pair of loose-fitting trousers and an enormous, luxuriously soft black sweater to put on her, he could feel the tension building in his mind as he continued to call for her—she was surfacing, slowly but surely. Still reeling over what she’d done, he quietly wondered at what he’d done to secure such a powerful devotion that she would be willing to experience this. It was rare these days that he questioned his worthiness of her; she had reassured him of her love so completely that it made the question of worth irrelevant. Still, her dedication seemed a bit excessive; he hadn’t realized that her reverence would extend to his alternate selves as well. He could only hope that though they’d all suffered greatly, they’d managed to take care of her and leave her mind intact. He would find out soon enough, he supposed.

Ignis lay down next to her in their bunk, pulling her nearly on top of him in a way he’d grown far too accustomed to doing back in Altissia. But he breathed deep, feeling her heartbeats and steady breath beneath his hands as he closed his eyes to better concentrate on her glimmering thread. He managed to contain his fury and keep it from the forefront of his thoughts as he continued to plead for her to return, but he couldn’t help that flash of anger that shot through him unbidden when she finally surfaced—gasping for breath as she arched her back against his hold.

“We’re both all right. You’re here with me,” he murmured softly, running his hands up and down her spine as she worked to calm herself, and _finally_ , that barrier between their minds softened, allowing him to wrap himself tightly around her grieving and nauseated thoughts.

“Ignis.”

“Rose, you absolute lunatic, do you have any idea how furious I am with you?” he said quietly, squeezing her close when she relaxed back onto his chest, but he wanted to shout it at her, to shake her and demand that she never do something so reckless for something as trivial as his comfort again. This wasn’t quite as grave a misjudgment as the one she’d made when he was nine, as she hadn’t directly put herself in danger of losing her life. But it was grievous enough after they’d only just had a conversation about sharing the load. What would happen if she ignored his request so deliberately while the gods were after them?

Her eyes cracked open to glare up at him. “What did you want me to do? Leave him there to die alone? When he was specifically pleading not to? He took his promise to Regis too seriously—to the point where he no longer cared what happened to the world—but he didn’t deserve his fate. I gave him every trace of comfort I could spare to ease the injustice of it, and I’d do it again if it meant you’d never have to die alone like that.”

“You deliberately went against my direct request—”

“You don’t outrank me.”

“And what of your duty to Noct? What if the Empire had learned of our position while we were down there, and you’d placed me in the position of choosing between him and you? You know what my choice would have to be,” he said, his voice cracking ever so slightly on his last sentence.

“ _Someone_ has to protect you, as you’re obviously a damn fool and won’t do it yourself.”

“Clearly, the same goes for you, but you won’t _let_ me. How can we win this if you won’t let me?”

She closed her eyes and snapped her jaw shut, no doubt biting back every indignant thought she wanted to whip back at him, but for once, she was in the wrong—and she knew it. Of course, _he_ knew that despite being in the wrong, she still would’ve made the same choice, regardless.

He wasn’t certain how he felt about that.

Finally, she sighed wearily, resting her lips against his chest and snuggling into him. “My promise to Regis included all of you, though admittedly not your every parallel self. Would you have forbidden me from doing the same for any of the others? For Noct? Why should you receive less consideration than anyone else?”

“You know as well as I that Noct’s destiny is far greater than mine.”

“And you know as well as I do that Noct isn’t in danger until we get the Crystal. You saw the vision, same as me—Ardyn wants him to have the Crystal and the Ring.”

Ignis held her closer, reaching up to take her clip out and weave his hand through her hair, letting it spill down his forearm. He tried his best to block out the image of himself, burned to ash and prostrated on the floor before the Chancellor, but the apparition was nearly crystal clear as he recalled the words, ‘With the Crystal and the Ring, the boy has everything he needs right here.’ What did that mean for them? Could Noct escape his fate simply by not going after the Crystal? But they needed it to clear the world of scourge and bring back the light. As usual, they had no choice but to walk directly into the Chancellor’s trap in order to get what they needed.

With his own gentle sigh, he changed the subject, as this was getting them nowhere. “Not that I’m not most grateful to see you awake, how were you able to come back to me so much more quickly than the last two times?”

Her shoulder twitched in a shrug as she pressed her lips against his neck. “I heard your call. If there’s any way in the multiverse that I can, I’ll always come running when you call for me.”

_You know, I think I believe you when you say things like that._

_Good._

 “You should rest,” he said, sitting up a little so he could pull out his lists to begin outlining his plans to send to the Marshal. “I can feel your exhaustion, and your mind doesn’t feel quite right, either.”

“I’ve tamped down the telepathy to just our bond,” she said sleepily, snuggling into his side. “Everything’s a bit . . . frazzled up in there right now.”

Leaning down to press his lips to the top of her head, he said, _Then sleep, love. I have some tasks to attend to later, but I’ll be here with you for now._

She hummed tunelessly in response, but he could tell that her mind was drifting too far toward sleep to fully register his words. Ignis did his best to balance his notebook against his raised knee, beginning an outline for actions to be taken against the upcoming dark and occasionally reaching down to run a hand through Laura’s hair affectionately as she continued to sing softly in a faraway voice laced with sleep.  _If I should die this very moment, I wouldn’t fear—for I’ve never known completeness like being here . . . wrapped in the warmth of you, loving every breath of you._

 _As I love you,_ he whispered, feeling as though he would burst from the emotion. He stopped everything for a moment to truly breathe it in, let it settle in his bones. With another deep, cleansing breath, he turned back to his work . . . centering on Lestallum today.

Lestallum would be the best city, strategically speaking, to set up a base. Its proximity to the power-supplying meteor shards would make their transportation far less dangerous than trying to get them all the way back to Insomnia, and the power plant that was indirectly responsible for providing light to all of Lucis would offer them the most complete protection from daemons during the long nights. Lucis’s population had already dwindled, but changes would have to be made to the city to make it habitable for the influx of people—fortifications would need to be set up, current houses split to fit more families, new houses built.

Though he’d already informed the Marshal of the need for canning now while it was still possible to yield crops, additional measures would have to be taken. Perhaps Gladio would know a thing or two about urban farming. The setup would need to be rather complex, however, as foods rich in vitamin D mostly involved seafood, so animal husbandry would also need to be implemented. And what of the ecosystems? Rose had implied she could do something to prevent them from dying off, but how could she sustain the entire planet when they lost daylight completely? For how long would they need to sustain themselves?

He’d just finished a rough outline of his plans for Lestallum and was about to move on to Caem when Rose’s mind perked to half consciousness, saying, _Ignis . . . Ardyn, Founder King’s brother._

***

“How are you feeling?” Ignis asked when Noct opened their compartment door three hours later. He’d seen neither hide nor hair of the three since they’d taken the laundry and run off to make an attempt at doing it, though he had received several texts requesting information on how to use the train’s washing machine. He didn’t _want_ to know what that implied for the state of their laundry, so he’d decided that it would be best not to ask.

Noct didn’t answer until he’d climbed the ladder to the bunk above theirs and let out a long, weary sigh. Ignis suspected this was likely so he wouldn’t be able watch Noct’s expression as he said, “I’m fine, Specs. How’s Laura?”

Reluctantly allowing Noct to change the subject, he said, “The same. She’ll likely sleep through the night, though I can’t be certain. I was about to head to the dining car to see if I might convince Paul to allow me the use of his facilities tomorrow before dining hours begin. I’d like to avoid another meal of cockatrice nuggets if I can help it. Would you mind terribly watching over her?”

“Umm . . . yeah, sure,” Noct replied, and once Ignis had gently extricated himself from her embrace, letting his lips linger on her forehead for a moment before pulling away, he stood to find the Prince reluctantly squirming his way out of the bunk.

“You don’t have to hold her as Prompto and Gladio do, you know.”

“N—No, it’s all right. Least I can do, right?” he said bitterly, jumping to the floor. He hesitated, his hands awkwardly fidgeting in front of him in a way that reminded Ignis of Prompto, before he finally sat down on the edge of the bed and hesitantly put his hand on her shoulder.

Ignis wanted to chuckle in amusement at Noct’s reticence, but the tone took first priority. “You realize it’s not your fault, Noc—”

“I know it’s not,” he interrupted, screwing his eyes tight and shaking his head in frustration. “But somehow, it’s all my family’s fault. Ardyn . . . Somnus Lucis Caelum’s brother. I just wish that jackass was feeling up to sharing—or any the deities hanging around. They had to know about this, right? Why didn’t they tell me? Even Gentiana—I thought she was our friend.”

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice turning to stone, “but we _will_ get answers from someone. Demand them if we have to, even if it’s from the gods themselves.”

Noct turned his head away, looking down at Laura, and said so softly that Ignis had to tilt his head to hear him properly. “You’ve changed so much, Iggy. You used to be so . . . I dunno, respectful of authority.”

“It’s not because of her,” Ignis said immediately, somewhat offended by the assumption. “I’ve always had a bit of a rebellious streak, if you’ll recall.”

“The painting in the Hall of History. All those times sneaking out. And . . . ha! That incident with Umbra and the canapes at the Council Banquet,” he said with a fond smile, until it dropped into wistful regret. “And you always took the fall. I always thought you were so perfect—that your reputation could stand the bruising.” He winced at the final word before looking down at his lap and mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

“Noct—” Ignis began, but Noct cut him off again.

“I’m gonna make it up to you, all of you, one of these days. I swear. I’m gonna be the king you all need.”

Ignis hesitated, thinking his answer over carefully. “While it’s true that Lucis needs its King, do remember that we are your family—albeit one you’ve chosen. Family doesn’t require recompense; we will stand by you, always.”

Noct’s gaze drifted to the bottom of the bunk above his head, seemingly lost in though. “Thanks, Iggy. You’d better go before Paul closes up shop for the night.”

***

The sun hadn’t yet risen when he finally felt Laura awaken, though had these been happier days, the dawn would’ve been shining forth with her rosy fingers just has Homer had described. Unconscious and recuperating as she was, Ignis hadn’t joined her in their dream world, instead choosing to hold her through the remaining aftershocks of his other selves reaching out as they grew more and more infrequent. He certainly hoped circumstances went more smoothly today in Tenebrae, as he hadn’t had a restful night’s sleep since before Pitioss, and it was finally beginning to wear him down.

Stifling a yawn, Ignis reached over to his can of Ebony—his third that morning—for another sip. He had just put the finishing touches on breakfast—Kettier ginger soup and toast made from bread that was practically forcibly donated from Paul’s personal stores—when her thread brightened in his head.

_Good morning, love. How ever did you manage to convince Paul to let you use his kitchen before dining hours? Was it flirting or bribery?_

Much to his relief, he’d needed to neither bribe nor flirt with the proprietor, as Paul had been only too happy to donate his facilities and personal stores once he’d learned that Laura was ill. Heavens knows where she’d found the time to make such a connection with the man between her episodes and convalescence, but at some point, she’d managed to ask him about his life and his family, and had even taken the time to offer tips on improving his olive polenta loaf. As Ignis sliced the bread to begin making toast, he glanced back at the empty counter. He could imagine her standing there, leaning over the dark wooden surface with her sparkling smile.

_Neither. Apparently, he’s an admirer of yours. He sends his regards and informs me that he is most grateful for your epicureal advice._

_Ha! There’s no way Paul used the word ‘epicureal.’ Did he mention if he was able to contact his daughter? He’s been eager to get to Tenebrae so he can check on Jocelyn himself._

_No, but he said to tell you that his husband was able to secure a job there. He received word yesterday in Cartanica._

_Oh, good. I hope Jeremiah was able to get that position at the manor. Paul would be able to quit his traveling job and move there permanently. He wants to work somewhere he can be allowed to cook real food._

As Ignis portioned out the soup into five bowls, he said, _Would you mind awakening the others? Breakfast is nearly ready._

_Already done. Gladio was already awake, Prompto’s having issues with there being no sun, and you know how Noct is. We’ll be along shortly._

By the time Ignis had finished washing the dishes, wiping the kitchen surfaces he’d used, and setting the food at one of the booth tables, the others were staggering in to take their seats. Laura looked up at him as she squeezed into the seat across with Noct and Prompto, and though her face was still colorless, it lit up as her eyes met his.

 _Hey,_ she said with a soft smile. _Thank you for last night—and for this. It smells wonderful._

_The pleasure is mine. Remember that we take care of each other._

“So—we’ll be stopping in Tenebrae today,” Ignis began, pulling their travel papers from his jacket pocket and handing out each to their appropriate owner. “Weskham was kind enough to procure these for us to allow us to travel freely in the Empire.”

“Been in the Empire for a couple of days now, and no one’s asked for anything,” Gladio pointed out.

“I was told we likely wouldn’t be asked for them until Gralea, but it seemed prudent to pass them out beforehand. Be sure to keep them on your person, and remember, our cover is that we’re here to study Gralea’s unique culinary traditions.”

“Sounds kinda lame,” Prompto winced. “I mean, you’ve had the food here . . ..”

Laura snorted in agreement before saying, “You’d be better off claiming us to be a visual kei group.”

“Apologies, a what?” Ignis asked, furrowing his brow.

Prompto nearly leapt out of his seat, raising his hand in excitement. “Oooh, yeah! Visual kei! I wanna be the lead guitarist.”

“No way!” Noct laughed. “If anyone’s gonna be the lead guitarist, it’s gonna be me.”

“Fine, I’ll take drums, then.”

“We can’t claim ourselves musicians. That cover story would fall apart the moment they asked us to play something,” Ignis argued.

Laura leaned forward to stare pointedly over at Noct, who was making a disgusted face as he let a spoonful of soup splatter slowly back into his bowl. “If they’re really digging that deep into our cover story, your ‘culinary students’ scenario is going to cause just as much of an issue.”

“We could be paranormal investigators,” Prompto suggested. “That’s actually almost kinda the truth.”

“Great. Ignis can be Mulder, and I’ll be Scully . . . just have to find a decent red wig,” Laura said with a toothy grin.

“Speaking of paranormal, we gonna talk about just what the hell really happened back there?” Gladio asked. “Seems like you two always got a hidden layer behind what’s goin’ on.”

Laura put down her spoon, glancing at Ignis before she turned to the rest of them. “Altissia was a universal nexus, a delta of decisions resulting in hundreds of threads of reality, mostly centered around Ignis.”

“But why Ignis?” Prompto asked before slurping up another spoonful of soup with an appreciative nod.

And this was the question that had been plaguing him. Why him, indeed? The charade on the altar had almost been a personal attack—one Ignis couldn’t fathom a reason behind. Why had the Chancellor targeted the servant when he’d had the Crown Prince himself at his mercy? How could Ignis have possibly had so much power to influence events?

_Don’t be willfully self-deprecating. Is it really that difficult to believe? It’s time you started seeing yourself as the Grand Chamberlain, Senior Advisor, Prime Minister, or whichever of the four thousand titles you Lucians use for the position. For gods’ sakes, did you never make the connection that one of those men in that painting was you? You’re all a part of this prophecy._

Ignis twitched an eyebrow up in surprise. He was well-familiar with the prophecy painting, having walked past it nearly every day on his way to the throne room. Since he was a child and Noct had been named Chosen, he’d identified the man receiving the blessing from the angelic figure as Noct, but he’d never really given much thought to the other three figures crouched beside him. Gods, the four of them had been hanging up on the Citadel walls since before they were born—equal parts of the prophecy.

“Likely because of his run-in with Ardyn there. It seems there were several choices he could’ve made that day that would’ve affected how everything happened,” Laura replied.

“Wow, so there are like, worlds where we all died that day?” Prompto said, half as a statement, but he also raised his tone at the end, as though half asking a question.

“No,” Laura said harshly. “I’ll not sit here and discuss all the ways something horrible could have happened to you all. For every situation in your life where you almost died, it’s likely there was a thread where it actually happened, so I’ll leave that up to your own imaginations.” She looked down at her empty bowl and closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I’ve seen enough of them for myself to know I’d rather not go looking for them.”

At Laura’s bleak expression and the clouds of black gathering in her mind, Ignis decided to change the topic. “The scenery is lovely,” he said lamely. “It’s only a shame they decided to put manufacturing plants here instead of a settlement. A city here would have been picturesque.”

“It’s too cold,” Noct complained as he stared out the window, and Prompto nodded in agreement. “I’d take Leiden heat over this any day.”

“It _is_ a tad on the frosty side for my tastes. I hear Tenebrae has a milder climate,” Ignis agreed.

Gladio pushed back his bowl with a satisfied sigh. “I love the cold. It’s too bad we can’t get a clear view though.”

“Yes, it’s a shame the pollution makes the air so hazy,” Laura agreed. “The mountains would remind me of the Kithairon Mountains by our home if the air were clearer.”

“Wait, what? ‘Our home?’” Gladio asked, narrowing his eyes at the way Laura was gazing softly up at Ignis. “You guys got a house or somethin’ in that dream world of yours?”

“Yes,” Ignis said, smiling tenderly back down at her. “There’s a lake there with a view of the mountains quite similar to these.”

“Wow, that sounds pretty,” Prompto sighed.

Ignis nodded in agreement. It seemed that no matter how many exotic planets, time periods, or classes she took him to, spending time in that stunning place alone with his wife and pursuing his own interests, even if it were only for a couple of hours each evening, had become his favorite part of living—whether they chose to cook their favorite dishes together, curl up on the downy couch in front of the fire while they shared sweet kisses and stories, or work on personal projects separately. Eilendil had even joined them several times on his uppermost floor, though Ignis never did learn what exactly he did up there. Even their days alone in solidarity with one another after Altissia hadn’t made the dragon any more sociable with Ignis than before.

Still, it was almost like having a family—one he’d chosen for himself.

 _Gods, I love you,_ Laura said affectionately. _I can’t handle it when you start thinking about our lives like that._

_I confess I find myself contemplating more and more what our real-world lives will be like when this is all over._

_I can’t see our future that clearly, but I have an idea,_ she said, sending him a flood of bliss. _It’s going to feel like that, love. We’ll make sure of it._

Indeed, they would. Unbeknownst to her, his thoughts had been turning more and more often to his grandmother’s ring, sent to him by his mother when he turned twenty and been named Duke of Kettier. She’d sent it to him by courier the very morning of his entitlement ceremony—with a letter stating how proud she was of him, how she hoped to visit him one day soon, and how she hoped to perhaps meet a future Duchess of Kettier.

Drawn to the familial connection he’d never known, Ignis had carried that letter and her ring with him—quite literally through hell and high water—despite having no intentions of using it when he’d made the decision to do so. Now, however . . . his wife was chosen and completely his; the rest was merely a matter of deciding whether they wanted to undergo the trial of a ceremony for Rose’s entitlement to become Duchess of Kettier.

“Sun’s finally coming up,” Noct said, staring out the window at the marginally brightening sky. “Later than yesterday, even.”

“Yes, the reduction in daylight seems to be coming even faster since Altissia,” Laura said.

“There was talk of it back in Lucis, but recent days have shown an unseasonably sharp change,” Ignis agreed. “Should this trend continue, before long—”

“There won’t be daylight,” Noct finished. “Just like Sania’s report.”

“Indeed, far sooner than I’d hoped. Which reminds me, I happened to overhear a fellow passenger discussing this very same phenomenon and made an appointment to see her soon, if anyone would care to join me.” Pulling out his phone to check the time, he said, “In half an hour.”

“Count me in,” Gladio said. “Probably won’t understand half of it, knowing you guys, but I wanna hear more about what we’re going up against.”

“You know I’ll follow you anywhere,” Laura said with a grin. “Let me help you with the dishes before we go.”

They had just cleared away all evidence of their private meal in the dining car by the time Paul arrived to begin his preparations for the day, greeting them all cheerfully as he turned on the deep fryers, opened enormous bags of frozen cockatrice nuggets, and started boiling water for the boxed mashed potatoes.

“Thanks for the use of the kitchen, Paul,” Laura said with a sweet smile. “We’d stay and chat, but we’ve got an appointment to make.”

“It was my pleasure. Glad to see you feeling better!” Paul said.

“You guys mind if I show up a little late? I forgot my phone in the compartment,” Prompto said, pointing his thumb back toward the room.

“I don’t see why not. It’s only an informal conversation in the first seating car. Meet us there when you can,” Ignis replied.

“Think I’m gonna stay and watch the sun,” Noct said, his tone peculiar in a way Ignis couldn’t identify. “Dunno how many more days we have left to see it.”

“All right, better get goin’ before we’re late. Lead the way, Ig,” Gladio said as he gestured toward the front of the train.

The passenger was waiting for them six cars up, but they had made it only four cars when the train began to slow, its wheels screeching with that metal-against-metal shriek that set Ignis’s teeth on edge.

“This isn’t good,” Gladio muttered, leaning over a seat to look out the window. “We aren’t s’posed to be stopping for a good while now.”

“Something’s wrong,” Laura said in a low voice. For the first time since they’d brought her on the train yesterday, she spread her mind out to increase her telepathic range beyond the two of them, searching for what was plucking at her instinct.

“What is it?” Ignis asked, coming up beside her. It seemed no matter how many times she gave him access to the part of her senses that interpreted timelines and telepathy, he couldn’t make anything of the disorganized cacophony, and today was no exception.   

“Time,” she said with a blank expression. “Time is wrong.” Coming to awareness suddenly, her head shooting up to meet their eyes, she said in an urgent tone, “Both of you, go up front to check on the engineers. Summon the weapons I gave you if there’s any kind of trouble; those stones will protect you. And for gods’ sakes, don’t go any farther back than this car, or you’ll be caught in the anomaly.”

“And where will you be going?” _You’re only just recovering. Please don’t do anything reckless._

“There’s a time anomaly on this train—a sloppily-done one. I’m the only one who can traverse and fix it without getting frozen as well, and it needs to be solved before the train rips in half.” _It has to be me—alone. If we lose contact with one another, it should only be for a second. I’ll be all right, love. I promise._

_Go, and be safe._


	71. Chapter 71

The unnatural stillness in the air was enough to unsettle even his nerves as he pulled back the curtain and peered through the porthole window, smirking to himself at the sight of the boy pulling a sword on his own best friend.

“SHOW YOURSELF!” the little Prince screamed as he flung the door of the compartment adjacent open.

He idly wondered how the child would react if he was successful in murdering the Clone that currently resembled his enemy . . . and there was a thought. It was a pity the Empire hadn’t yet made inroads into memory transfer, else the Clone could simply be replaced—like a broken toy. There were so many enticing possibilities in that scenario, and yet . . . there was little point in wishing for an impossible world with the genius of Solheim laid to ruins.

Of course, Solheim’s extinction was no longer a certainty, was it? Though he’d been too late to visit the interdimensional gates that had opened and closed so briefly back in Lucis, _something_ had to be responsible for bringing them online once again. Perhaps discovering their secrets could be one of the many projects he could amuse himself with while he waited patiently for the Prince to emerge from the Crystal a King. He hadn’t fathomed revenge on a dead civilization to be possible, but there was so much for which to demand retribution—not only for being responsible for setting mankind back to their days of primitive savagery but also for setting the wheels of his own fate in motion. If Solheim did indeed exist in some state, somewhere, he would take great relish in exacting his repayment.

As the door to the train car slammed shut, Ardyn pocketed the Clone’s mobile—so careless of the child to leave it behind in enemy territory—and spun in a slow circle, searching the confined space for any clues he may have missed in his first search. Given what he’d witnessed on the altar and only just yesterday on the platform, the long, blue-black hairs entwined on the same pillow with short, dark gold were hardly surprising. He’d thought the boy must have died, given how viscerally she’d screamed his name yesterday, until the Advisor emerged from the elevator shaft carrying her still form, pale as death. They made a curious pair. Not only was it not Ardyn’s experience that the gods were willing to experience such anguish for their playthings, he hadn’t expected the standoffish Advisor to yank the polearm out of his own ass long enough to bed a woman.

If she was, even, a woman; he hadn’t yet managed to solve that particular puzzle.

Checking to verify that the little Prince and the Clone had continued toward the back of the train, where they would encounter another of his stitches in time to freeze them as well, he turned toward the front of the train, the fire of anticipation quickening his blood in a way that nearly distracted him from the silver and gold fire broiling his mind—for a moment. But tortured as he’d been off and on these past two millennia, he’d long grown accustomed to performing admirably under the greatest of duress.

He’d strode through two seating cars of gawping, frozen pawns and had just entered the vestibule leading to the dining car when he heard it—the only sound in this frozen moment—clinking china and steelware.

It could only be her.

Steeling himself and reiterating that patience was the most prudent path forward, Ardyn opened the door to the dining compartment and sashayed in, a jaunty, flirtatious smirk spreading over his features and an air of casual grace highlighting his steps.

And there she was—appearing far healthier than he’d last seen her—not a mark of scourge or war on her as she poured the boiling pot of water into an awaiting teapot, stepped around the bald proprietor, and placed it gently on a small tray laden with teaware, all without acknowledging his presence.

The little vixen was still playing games, after all she’d put him through?

Caution. Patience.

“There you are!” she exhaled exasperatedly as she turned around, finally pretending to notice him. “You do realize—when you increase the levels of artron and huon energy on part of an object and not the rest while moving through three-dimensional space, you have to compensate for the velocity and mass by creating a curved time pocket, so essentially, the train is dragging along the frozen bubble as it comes to a complete stop instead of somehow managing to drag along two time fields moving at different speeds, which is impossible, of course. Reversing the polarity of the neutron flow is always a good idea too, in my experience. I’d accuse you of trying to kill yourself, playing with Eos’s powers like that, but . . . think we all know the answer to that. I fixed it for you, of course. You’re welcome.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned back to her tray. “Would you like some tea? I had the damnedest time coming up with something that would suit you. Kuding would work but is too bitter for me to share, so I went with sheng puerh. Broke it off a thirty-year-old cake, but from what I understand of the tea ceremonies of ancient Lucis, this should be right up your alley.”

She set the tray on the counter between them and looked up at him, those lapis eyes of hers glittering with some knowing humor Ardyn couldn’t fathom.

“I assume it isn’t poisoned.”

Under any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have bothered asking, but the molten wave of metal beating against the backs of his eyeballs even in that very moment was forcing him to contemplate that she was aware of arcane powers in this world which he was not.

“Of course not,” she said, clearly offended by his query. She poured the tea into the clay cup in front of him with a gentle flourish and presented it in the style of old. He waited until she’d prepared her own, his eyes never leaving her hands as she brought it to her mouth and took a demure sip, before he brought his cup to his lips. She took her tea in the style of old as well—hot enough to burn and not the sappy-sweetness that these spineless mortals preferred today. The dank, bitter earthiness was reminiscent of a time when blood-oaths were sworn at the tip of a blade, the lands were ruled by those with the strongest of will and ruthlessness, and the gods were worshipped with offerings of virgin life and seared lamb-fat.

Setting her cup down and leaning casually against the back counter, she crossed her arms and inspected him carefully. “Ardyn Lucis Caelum. It’s nice to formally meet your acquaintance.”

“Would that I could say the same. Laura, was it? I’m afraid I never received your surname.”

“Oh, you know how it is,” she prevaricated, waving a vague hand in the air, “you collect so many over the centuries that names become a rather meaningless concept. But I suppose, having been born a mortal, you’d likely adhere to their charming little customs. Ni’annen will do for what you’re seeking. Laura Ni’annen.”

Which told him precisely nothing, as he’d expected—a first name in the style of Lucian peasants and a family name pulled from the ether, of no style with which he was familiar. It rankled quite enough that he’d been wrong about her identity and that he’d continued, despite her insistent, vehement denial, to act according to that false presupposition. Even the idea that she was the newly reawakened emissary of the winds didn’t quite fit, unless the gods had recently learned to travel in time beyond that absurd dream dog who could only visit the past. Could she possibly have been telling the truth all along? The indignity of the fault would be too great for him to contemplate. But what other explanation could account for what she’d done to him? Could account for this strange silver power splashing beneath his skull? How could she have fared so well against his attack when not even the Six could withstand the scourge?

Yet with the possibility of aliens now existing on the planet or not, that Power of Eos wasn’t steering his logic false; the same power that ran corrupted in his veins still poured off her in such concentrated waves that it nearly blinded him when he examined her too closely. She simply _had_ to be some form of deity awakened and sprung forth from the general state of upheaval in this world—some form of child of Eos. Not even he could be fully aware of every slumbering power buried and tucked away in the forgotten places of the world.

This idle hypothesizing was getting him nowhere. It was time to add another player to this game.

“So . . . _not_ an Astral then,” he noted mildly, keeping his wording broad in the hopes she would introduce more information for him to play with.

Her asinine smile fell to a frown as she answered, “I’m sorry, but I did tell you. And then the fact that ‘Shiva’ was using Crystal magic to create a Glaive shield . . . well, that’s what they in ‘the biz’ call a clue, isn’t it?” Leaning forward, but not close enough to come within his reach, she searched his eyes in almost what appeared to be concern. “How are you feeling?”

He raised a hand to his temple, closing his eyes as her pool of energy throbbed against his synapses, as though it knew its mistress was in close proximity. He had no idea why he was admitting this weakness. Perhaps it was because there was little point in hiding it. Perhaps it was the pernicious influence of her molten power in his mind. Perhaps it was simply because she had been the first person in millennia to bother asking.

“Two thousand years without the slightest twinge of pain nor pleasure, and now you incinerate my every thought.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, and, examining her pained expression, he almost found it in himself to believe her.

“I’ll have to repay you, of course, for your kindness. It’s only fair,” he said, relaxing once again into his wicked smirk, because for all her talk and feigned unconcern at this cessation of time, he had her at his mercy. She may have been some sort of deity, but she still clearly relied on Noct and the Crystal to warp—the Glaives’ version of Eos’s time magic. She was far too unique and far too _interesting_ to dispose of, even if he couldn’t control her through scourge as he could the Six. This would be the perfect prison in which to hold her.

“Mmm, what did you have in mind?” she asked seductively, leaning on her elbow and smiling up at him through her eyelashes.

“I leave you here . . . frozen on this train, for eternity. Not so bad in the grand scheme of things, is it, my dear? Why, I can even leave you with company!” he gushed cheerfully, waving a hand around at the mindless sheep suspended in eating their morning meal.

“Ugh, and here I thought you were intelligent,” she scoffed, stepping back suddenly and turning to the stove to pick up the pot of water. She refilled the teapot, breathing in the cloud of hot steam that rose from the heated leaves, before speaking again, “You can’t do that, actually. I told you—I’m not one of your silly Astrals. You clearly still have so much more to learn about reality to even begin to understand what I am.”

“For an alien from outer space, you certainly seem to know quite a bit about me,” he drawled, pointing out her lie. One of the greatest benefits that came from being erased from history was that only the immortals knew of his past, and their shame was certainly binding them to silence, which could _only_ mean that she wasn’t who she claimed to be. It wasn’t as though a stranger could arrive on this planet and somehow discover all this from a book.

“The boys and I have been brushing up on our history lately,” she said casually, pouring herself another cup of tea, and though she still refused to draw close enough to refill his, she set the clay pot just within his reach if he chose to step forward.

“History,” he sneered, reaching to pour himself another cup. “What would those arrogant babes know of history? Even the meaning behind those ridiculous skulls and the color black, reminders of my supposed turning that my dear brother put in place, have been lost to time—along with my existence.”

Her cup froze halfway to her mouth as she stared down at the counter. “The Power of Kings, the Power of Eos, whatever, drains the kings of life and requires death, starting with Somnus . . . so someone like you can’t happen again.”

“He always thought himself terribly clever,” Ardyn sighed. “Forcing them to wear black merely because I touched the Crystal and turned it from blue to black as it rejected me for its Chosen was a particularly senseless move on his part—almost . . . sentimental of him.”

“Immortals and their dramatics,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “I bet you’re _so_ disappointed you won’t be able to reveal all this in some glorious villain speech. Bet you were saving that Lucis Caelum bit for some grand moment—had the soundtrack picked out and everything.”

“The boy knows?” he asked, taken aback, because _here_ was the first move she’d made that didn’t resemble the immortal on this world—that was, if one also overlooked her untraditional directness.

“Of course he knows. I’m always honest if I can help it, and I’m as open as someone like me can be,” she said significantly, arresting his gaze with hers. “Even with you, I’ve always told the truth.”

Another meaningless statement, steeped in conditionals. Undoubtedly, no one knew better than he how effective truth was in misleading the foolish, but she was more skilled than even he at the practice. With perhaps the exception of her fear on the altar, she’d chosen a different persona each time they’d interacted, possibly including this moment—so vastly distinct that he couldn’t glean any true information from her disguise, which was nearly always a self-portrait of some sort. One moment, in particular, seemed to hold the clue to her identity—one he couldn’t fathom and would not accept at face-value.

“’An alien from outer space,’” he scoffed, placing his teacup on the tray and taking a step back from the counter. “There’s too much of the gods about you to believe such drivel.” But how could he interpret her words in a manner that made them partially true? Perhaps a being from one of the Solheimian gates? But no, she’d arrived long before his spies had moved out of Lucis—he’d met her himself before the Fall—and his operatives weren’t so incompetent as to miss such an event without so much as a whisper. Or were they?

He tilted his head in thought as he let his eyes roam up from her black trousers, to the matching sweater she was drowning in, to her dark hair pulled messily into a twist. Try as he might, he could glimpse no insight into what she was. Taking her appearance into account, she resembled a harried housewife, but his grandmother’s divinity shone undiluted in her aura, her disdain for the Six shone in her words. Who and what was this creature that considered even the Astrals beneath her? Who could defy the scourge and set within him a power from which death could not even part him?

“Though I must say, odd insistence on denying your origins aside, never have I spoken with divinity as direct as you. It’s rather refreshing.”

“My, listen to you,” she said with a sly smile, leaning back into the counter with her cup and inspecting him with a patronizing air. “Pretending you’re some source of wisdom of the ancients, yet you still believe in gods, like a human. No more than a backwater savage, you are. Clearly, you haven’t spent the last two thousand years learning anything.”

“And here I thought we had an unspoken agreement to keep things civilized.”

“So did I, until I learn that you’re _still_ accusing me of being a goddess—after everything we’ve been through and everything I’ve just said. Gods are little more than slavers, lording their knowledge and power over mortals. Was that why you went after me? Because they hurt you, and I tasted golden on your tongue? Was that truly all the evidence you required to attack me?”

“Who else with such an aura would be protecting the boy?”

“But that’s the thing, the gods aren’t protecting him. Sure, they offer to show up every once in a while, now that we’ve ‘received their blessing,’ but the price of their power is too great for him to use. Odd they charge for their services at all when they’re the ones who need Noct to save them from you.”

“You sound nearly as thrilled with their methods as I. Permit me to make a suggestion,” he said, crossing his arms and raising his chin. She tilted her head in response, which was a promising sign that she was at least willing to listen. “Why not come with me? Surely, you must be growing weary of bunking down with those tiresome boys every night? Or, the boy, I should say.”

To his disappointment, if she’d caught the meaning of his bait, she chose to ignore it. “I’d say our philosophies differ too much. Revenge against your gods, sure. Sounds to me like they deserve all the hell you can give them for causing this mess with their racism. But against Noct? Against all of humanity? I cannot allow that. They fall under my protection.”

“You would allow me revenge against the gods?” he asked in surprise, but it hardly mattered. Revenge against the gods, against the kings, against his grandmother—all would require the end of the world, in her view, and releasing him from this endless night would require the little King’s death.

And _still_ , he wasn’t certain which of victory or defeat he desired more at this point.

“I certainly wouldn’t approve, but I try not to step into planetary disputes unless innocents are involved.”

“You seem to have a lot of rules for someone with so much power.”

The girl placed her cup on the tray and turned to skip past the end of the counter to where a couple sat frozen on their stools, pointing out the window.

“And there’s a reason for that. Sounds like you’ve learned this lesson better than anyone: He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

Ardyn took a step forward, curious to discover the reason behind the sudden relocation, but she merely thrust her hand into the blue shaft of light shining through the windows to delicately touch one of the sparkling blue embers hovering there. The girl had warped before; surely she understood this process? She’d implied she had the ability to escape this prison, and, now that he thought about it, had the ability to manipulate time enough to make them tea, of all things—one of her subtler demonstrations of power. But then why was she so openly displaying interest now?

“My rules protect me. That was what happened to you, wasn’t it?” she continued as she reached over the young woman’s outstretched arm to pilfer the cookie sitting on the corner of her tray. “You healed the scourge at the behest of the gods, and it drove you to kill your Oracle, didn’t it?”

“I’d like to know in which book you’ve read this,” he said flatly, because it was all he could manage in that moment to conceal his shock at her words. No scroll, tome, cosmogony, or heroogony in even the deepest of ruins in Eos told the truth of _this_ story.

“Not a book—a vision of alternate realities for Noct with a [flash of your face](https://static2.thegamerimages.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/mJHPG1lP.jpg?q=50&fit=crop&w=738),” she said, turning toward him. “And now you’re getting your revenge not only for your life but for your love.”

Attempting to gain some sort of upper hand in this dialogue, he repeated her words back to her in a derisive sneer. “And here I thought you were intelligent. Next you’re going to claim that I’m harboring some deep desire for you merely for my actions on the altar.”

“Please. Your life would be far easier if you stopped underestimating me,” she said with a snort before taking a bite of the cookie and grimacing. “Blimey, that’s disgusting,” she muttered before raising her voice to him once more, “What I’m interested to know is how a Caelum ended up with the power to heal the scourge, anyway. Thought that was a trait coming more from the Fleuret side of things.”

Ardyn quirked the corner of his lips up into the slightest of smiles. She would find out soon enough that he’d left Altissia to return to Gralea so that he could be personally responsible for wiping out the last of that miserable, whimpering, and wailing line—once so full of promise. His puppet had been an imbecile to return to the capital in hopes of wiping out the Emperor—after all he’d done to save his precious sister, after defending an enemy advisor in Ardyn’s very presence! The child had had gall, no doubt, but gall without intelligence was not a mind that needed to exist on this eos. His preserved body still had one purpose left to serve, however, one this little retinue would discover upon entering Zegnautus.

“The lines have been watered down over the generations, grown weaker,” he said with a smile of satisfaction, remembering what a simple matter it had been to dispose of the child. “We were far more capable in my day. But all this idle chatter has yielded very little fruit for either side, I’m afraid, so let me get to the point. I’ve been given very little choice in these matters, and I must see this path to its end, regardless of the new player in this game,” he said, gesturing to her. Because no matter who or what she was, what she was capable of, living out the rest of eternity as he existed now was not an option. “The boy is merely a means to an end.”

Once she’d tossed the cookie back onto the woman’s tray, she turned back to him with a hand on her hip. “You can try to keep telling yourself that, but what you did to Lunafreya was unnecessary, if getting Noctis to the Crystal were truly your only goal. There was the week-long forced hike after the free ride, and let’s not even discuss that little play you put on for Ignis. I would ask that you keep in mind that though they represent your enemies, they are as much pawns in this game as you are, as you were.”

But that was why Ardyn needed the boy to suffer, needed the boy to understand _exactly_ what it meant to be used by fate—to live the life Ardyn himself had. When the time came for Noctis to sit on the throne that had once been destined to be Ardyn’s and call forth the thirteen that would represent one-hundred-and-thirteen, he needed to be nearly as desperate to die as Ardyn himself was so that he wouldn’t be capable of escaping his fate. Either that or despise the gods and his ancestors so entirely that he would become Ardyn’s puppet to assist in destroying the world.

“Buried deep within you, beneath all the years of pain and anger, there is something that has never been nurtured: the potential to make yourself a better man,” she said softly, taking a hesitant step forward and searching his eyes. “And that is what it is to be human. To make yourself more than you are. Do you even remember anymore what it was to be a good man?”

“For a woman of your supposed experience, you certainly are naïve, my dear. Surely you don’t believe in such black and white notions as good and evil.”

She leaned back and raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Or perhaps my experience is even greater than yours; you might be surprised. Perhaps I’ve been where you are now. It would be a struggle every day, but what else would you do with eternity? There are so many good men and women of this world. Why not choose one of them as a paragon?”

Was she implying she’d been awake and moving in the world for more than two thousand years? Where had she been all this time that he hadn’t discovered her in his extensive travels? This palaver was getting neither of them anywhere. It was high time to stir her ire—just enough to get her to reveal something.

“Is that what you did? Did you choose the Advisor as a role model?” he asked in mock pity for her stupidity.

At first, Ardyn believed he’d failed to prick a vein when she answered calmly, “I chose them all when I decided to do this mission. They’re all men of impeccable heart.”

But the moment she’d finished, she lowered her head to glare up at him, her eyes glittering darkly with lapis fire and the reckoning of the ancients—feral and potent. He’d had only a second, whatever a second was in this suspended time, to discern her expression before she disappeared in a flash of gold, only to reappear just out of arm’s reach.

And he was finally receiving his answer. She moved like a Caelum, could control time like a Caelum, but wielded the power of Eos as though she were made of it.

“‘The Advisor’ is mine,” she hissed coldly. “If you harm him, there is nothing in this world that will stop me.”

“But I’m immortal, my dear,” he replied jovially, placing a hand over his heart and taking a step back. Suffusing his words with bravado, he said, “There’s nothing you can possibly do to me beyond what you and the Six have done already.”

Her answering smile was untamed, ferocious. Taking several slow, rolling steps toward him like a coeurl, she spoke in a soft, melodious tone. “My, but now who’s the naïve one? You are a sheltered thing, aren’t you? Left to walk this world alone with nothing but these _pitiful_ mortals—” she spat, “you probably fancied yourself a god.”

Halting her advance, she spread her arms wide, a gesture made somewhat less than impressive by her attire, but Ardyn understood well her meaning. “Well, here I am. You wanted a goddess, and now you’ve got one. But as I said before, I’m not one of your silly Astrals. You think you’ve lived and learned all life has to offer, think you’ve gained the knowledge of the ancients, but let me tell you something, _my boy_ , you have no idea. You wanted my name earlier? I am Hausos, Aurora, Ushas, Thesan, Aušrinė, Zorya Utrennyaya, the Bad Wolf. I _am_ Eos.”

Ardyn couldn’t suppress his lips parting, his brows raising at her final name. It was impossible, or was it? His grandmother had no Messenger forms of which he was aware. Where had she acquired a body that could house the soul of a star? An alien, perhaps, from one of Solheim’s gates? Yes, it would explain how she could resist his scourge with her alien form yet still use the magic of the Crystal, still wield that golden power. But the how hardly mattered, for with her bedding the Advisor, she had started the identical chain that had set them all on this descent into purgatory, and she would make penance for her sins just as he had. She had _made_ him what he was when she rejected him—turned him immortal the moment he’d touched her Crystal, and she would pay for that crime, as well.

“Then you have no idea the hell you’ve just unleashed upon yourself,” he said, maintaining an even tone, but her gaze flickered down to his clenched fists before he could relax them.

“How so?” she asked as she raised a dubious eyebrow at him. “You’ve already proven you have no power over me.”

“But I have power over your plaything.” 

The threat hadn’t had the desired effect, as she smiled again, this time slow and beatific, completely at odds with her next words. “Hmmm,” she hummed seductively, “no one has ever used your immortality as a weapon against you, have they? That power in your mind—it’s mine to command. I could burn your body for the rest of eternity—make it so you can’t move or think, for your entire existence will consist of nothing but re-embodying yourself with each new moment. If you believe immortality to be a curse now, it would be nothing compared to the hell I will put you in if you harm him.”

“This is why good people are so easy to manipulate—what of your rules, of the monsters and the abyss?”

“Good people don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many. I have created worlds and destroyed entire universes. I committed genocide at the age of nineteen all for the love of a man. What do you think I could do to you?”

History did indeed learn from itself, Ardyn thought. As he gazed into that sparkling cobalt, he could see the truth of her words, could contemplate the birth and death of the stars in her eyes, could smell the winds of time on her breath, envision the depth of the great beyond in the black of her hair. It made him feel young and mortal again, trembling at the feet of divinity. All those playful personas had finally been stripped away to reveal the goddess underneath, but not the one he’d expected—not even the same from over two millennia ago.

Would their entire history have never happened had she displayed this savage aegis for her mortal lover the first time around?

But she’d proven weak to the Wallbreaker once before at the hands of Solheim. He might not have been able to engage her here, but he would certainly be able to handle her in Gralea. And then he could perhaps torture the Advisor—once she was at his mercy—just to watch her break.

Taking a step back, he surrendered the impasse, for now, so that he might have a better hand another day. “And here I thought you were shepherding my immortal soul, trying to set me on the good path,” he simpered. “Seems as though you’re teetering on that edge yourself, my dear.”

The fire in her eyes dimmed as she answered, “Your soul does concern me, Ardyn. I would see it at peace when the time comes, but I won’t hesitate to destroy it if you make this personal between us—even if I lack the power to do so permanently.”

She was the second woman in recent memory to express concern for the peace in his soul, but this creature wasn’t Lunafreya, whose compassion was so burned into her identity it was sickening. This goddess  was the only creature in the world who could possibly understand the scope of what he had seen.

And was responsible for all of it.

“We shall have to see how things play out. In the meantime,” he raised a casual hand, flicking an elegant dismissal toward the front of the train, “I believe you have some work to do.”

Ardyn removed his hat with a flourish and gave her a mocking bow before warping to the back of the car and into the vestibule without another glance back. As he warped again to the next door, he released his hold on the cars behind him, plunging them into time once more. Cloning himself as the Clone with only the slightest of chuckles, he stowed away the boy that would reveal his trickery, unfroze time, and sent the signal for the troops to begin attacking the train, concentrating more on the front than the rear to keep her busy.

Crouching down and placing a hand on the little Prince’s shoulder, he said, “Noct, are you okay?”

They would need to move quickly to complete this little play. After all, the Gunslinger had a reunion with Daddy Dearest he couldn’t afford to miss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess not everyone knows that Ardyn uses magic to essentially switch his and Prompto’s places for this entire chapter of the game? My reader was surprised as hell to find that out. So, yes, that part really does happen. 
> 
> The train has been completely redesigned by me—which cars follow which, how many there are, whether they are heading backward or forward in the story, where exactly they are on the train. Sometimes, things just need to go my way. Travel times are also pretty much a free for all.
> 
> He who fights with monsters quote is courtesy of Nietzsche. Buried deep within you quote is Star Trek TNG. Good people don’t need rules is from Doctor Who.
> 
> The “vision with the flash of your face” refers to the specific moment in the Omen trailer where it no longer looks like Noct’s face, but sort of like Ardyn as a young man.


	72. Chapter 72

If it weren’t for the fact that he’d been forewarned he would lose the connection with Rose, Ignis may have stumbled to his knees when their bridge went dark, but by the time he had recovered from his faltered step and Gladio had turned to check on him, their connection was back online and glowing again.

“Something wr—" Gladio began, but a single, deep percussion rocked the floor under their feet, forcing them to lunge for the nearest benches to steady themselves.

_Rose? Are you all right? Are Noct and Prompto?_

_I’m fine. Last contact with Noct and Prompto, they were fine, but then they got caught in a different time stream and I lost track of their mental signatures._

“It’s a trap. We gotta get to the front of the train,” Gladio muttered as he stood and headed toward the front once more. “Gotta get this bucket movin’ again.”

“Indeed,” Ignis agreed as he recovered and followed after, but his thoughts weren’t at all focused on Gladio’s words or what his own body was doing. Concepts, images, words, emotions—all were flowing into his mind in a rush, and though he had no time to process them completely, his Intuition was sounding claxons in his head at what Rose had done and for the predicament they were now in.

 _Last I checked, they were together at the back of the train,_ Laura said, and even in her mental voice, Ignis could catch her breathlessness, her distraction, _but Ardyn was headed toward them. I’m a bit busy to keep track of them right now—can’t exactly stop to locate them all the way at the other end. You need to warn them._

As Gladio slammed open the door to the first seating car, Ignis remained close at his heels while he hurriedly cleared a path between gaping, fretting passengers shifting back and forth across the aisle to catch a glimpse of the commotion. A quick glance outside as they passed a clear window was enough to tell him that they’d made their unscheduled stop at one of the imperial armories dotting the tracks between Euciello and Piztala—no doubt because of its vast supply of ordnances and ammunition—a perfect location to take down a train of civilians.

 _I need to pull away and concentrate,_ Laura said, _but the two of you stay on the engineers. Getting this train moving again is most important._

 _Very well. Please, be careful_ , he reminded her yet again.

Ignis pulled out his phone as Gladio reached the door to the engine room, and, deciding that Noct would be warping into the center of trouble, pressed the speed dial to Prompto’s mobile instead. With any luck, he would’ve had the time to retrieve it from the room before being caught in the Chancellor’s time stitch—a demonstration of the Caelums’ power over time far beyond warping and, until a minute ago, had merely been a myth.

“You guys okay up there?” Prompto said in lieu of a greeting.

“First of all, where were you born?” Ignis asked, just to be on the safe side.

“Um . . . Niflheim?”

“Good. Gladio and I are inspecting the engine room now to get the train moving again. Laura said that you and Noct were together last she saw. Is that still the case?”

“Yep! We’re checking out where that explosion came from.”

“The Chancellor is on board, so keep each other in sight at all times. Ask him a question only he would know the answer to, then come up with a password to verify each other’s identities, if necessary. Laura’s too preoccupied to keep an eye on him, so I’m afraid you’re on your own.”

“Got it, Ignis! Thanks!”

As Ignis hung up his phone and one of the engineers opened the door to the engine room, Gladio said, “We’re here to cover you guys while you get the train moving.”

“Oh, thank the Six!” the engineer breathed, his eyes wide with terror. “We’re probably gonna have to go outside.”

“Yeah, no prob, just give us a second.” Gladio turned to Ignis and leaned down near his ear, murmuring, “I pick your password. You pick mine. I ask for yours, I want you to say ‘clusterfuck,’ you got it?”

Ignis pulled away to glare at him. “You are a child.”

“Hey, Ardyn disguises himself as you, that’s the last word he’s gonna guess. Go on, pick some longass word for me.”

“Artichoke,” Ignis replied immediately. “Though I don’t actually need a password.”

“The fuck’s an artichoke?”

“Exactly. Let’s get moving.”

While Gladio remained in the engine room to cover Richard, Ignis followed Sarah outside, most frustratingly out of view of the source of explosions and gunshots. As Sarah scurried down the train’s front steps and along the right side of the first car, Ignis reached out to Laura, checking on her status as inconspicuously as possible so as not to distract her, but the only impressions he received were the deluges of meaningless information her mind gathered in battle and a flash of an image—she was surrounded by MTs.

Gods, though part of him knew the Chancellor had likely been planning this all along, Ignis hoped with all his will that Laura hadn’t stirred his wrath to the point where it would get her killed.

“Pull off the other two panels, will ya?” Sarah asked as she dug her fingers into the bottom corners of one of the three silver-vented panels situated along the side of the train and dislodged it with a violent yank.

Ignis did as he was bid, and for ten minutes, he gritted his teeth as he fumbled around the unfamiliar circuitry according to Sarah’s instructions, periodically cast a wary eye overhead and to either side for incoming combatants, and grew ever more frustrated that he couldn’t be on the other side of the train supporting the others.

 _Perhaps you should be the one on this task,_ Ignis said quietly, hoping that, if Laura was too busy, she would simply ignore his suggestion. It wasn’t as though he didn’t realize this was an important assignment—monumental, even, as the people were vulnerable to attack the longer they sat still in the middle of this war zone. But he hadn’t realized how much he’d grown used to being the one driving a blade into his enemy, of having control over the field. He still felt that his reasoning was sound, despite his growing dissatisfaction at not being a part of the action, as Laura did have some mechanical skills and would be of far more help to Sarah and Richard than he and Gladio were.

 _We can’t switch places. There’re too many—more than the courtyard in Tigiano, and the bastards are rigged to explode,_ she said shortly before disconnecting again.

Another ten minutes passed before the choking rumble of the engine shook the car and roared in his ears. Far from being relieved at this event, Ignis realized that the train had likely only started because the Chancellor was ready for them to leave. If only they could figure out what the meaning was behind this plot!

“Hey, we got it!” Gladio called unnecessarily from the cab window as he and Sarah were replacing the metal covers. Once they’d finished with their task and rushed back to the cab, Ignis pulled out his phone again to dial Prompto.

“Are you and Noct all right?” Ignis asked the moment the line connected.

“Yep! Doin’ good. Got some tank things we’re handling now.”

“We’re ready to get underway again. Get Noct and board the train.”

“Got it, Ignis! We’ll be in back.”

As he ended the call and rushed into the engine room behind Sarah, he reached out to Rose. _We’ve got the train started. Get on board._

_I’m still surrounded. I’ll jump on after the train starts moving and make sure I’m not followed. If one of these things gets on the train and explodes, it could kill dozens of citizens._

For once, he refrained from reminding her to be careful—even if she still likely felt his accompanying concern.

Far too slowly for Ignis’s liking, the train began to pull away from the depot, picking up speed as the engine roared in protest. While Gladio covered the engineers in the cab, Ignis remained in the engine room, keeping his eyes trained on the door and his hands at the ready. With Noct and Prompto on the back of the train, Laura distracted by the swarm of MTs surrounding her, and no other defenses onboard, there was absolutely nothing save for him and Gladio stopping a suicidal MT from breaking into the engine room and killing the engineers or exploding the engine—leaving a train full of passengers at the mercy of the Empire.

“Tell Laura to check the train for stowaways soon as she gets on!” Gladio called back to him as his phone buzzed with a text from Prompto.

_We got on, but MT ships following. Noct warping up to take out._

Ignis typed out a reply as quickly as he could between glances up at the door.

_Chancellor still believed on board. MT soldiers rigged to explode. Will send Laura your way ASAP. Be safe._

“Hey,” Gladio called from the door to the engine room, a weight of significance added to his tone. “What _is_ an artichoke, anyway?”

Ignis looked up from his text, a slight smile spreading over his lips as he answered, “A clusterfuck of spiky leaves.”

“Good to have ya back, Ig,” Gladio grinned before turning back to the cab.

Stowing away his phone, he waited not-so-patiently for the last of their party to join them. Despite having been able to leave the depot relatively unscathed, Ignis wasn’t able to breathe freely until Laura reached out a hand, grasped a bar attached to one of the cars, and let it yank her away from the orange-and-black ball of fire that had once been an MT.

But this little stopover had to have had a purpose. It had been deliberately planned by their worst enemy, who now knew that he and Laura were together and could exploit that information against either of them. Having failed to imprison Laura, the Chancellor would likely make good on his threat to come after her ‘plaything,’ now.

At least Noct would be safe.

 _I know your telepathy is still strained from yesterday,_ Ignis said as Laura wrestled her way into one of the car’s side doors. _Do you think you can manage to check the train to ensure no MTs are on board?_

After a few seconds’ pause, she said, _There are a couple, yes. And Ardyn is still here . . . with Noct and Prompto._

 _He’s not after me? I’m warning them now,_ he replied as he pulled out his phone. _He may be disguised as a passenger._

_All right. I’ll take care of the MTs, but be ready. I think their goal is to get to the engine room. They may have some new plan if this one falls through._

Six rings, and Prompto still hadn’t picked up his phone, so he hung up and sent a text.

_Laura says Chancellor with you now._

“Gladio! You may want to start preparing for company!” Ignis called out as he dialed Noct’s number.

“I’ll break out the cloth napkins and guest towels!” Gladio yelled back over the roar of the engine.

Ignis slapped a finger to the end-call button on his screen in frustration when Noct didn’t answer his phone either, but after squeezing the device in his fist for a moment, he sent the identical text to Noct’s phone—just in case.

 _I’ll check on them personally the moment I get this last MT out the window,_ Laura said as she slashed a blade through an MT’s neck before hurling him bodily through the plate glass. Despite the calm tone of her mental voice, Ignis could feel the fear rising in her throat—only adding to his own. She took off at a sprint—ducking, dodging, and dancing her way through the clumps of passengers standing in the aisles of seating and sleeping cars alike.

 _Prompto!_ she screamed, stopping in shock as she reached out farther. Ignis could feel the prickles of a headache bleeding through their connection as she said in a panicked tone, _I can’t feel Prompto!_

 _What about Noct?_ Ignis asked as she took off to the back car once again.

_Feels like he’s on the last car, but Ardyn and Prompto are gone!_

So . . . had this been the Chancellor’s aim all along? To abscond with any one of them, or Prompto specifically? It hardly mattered, because they were going to get him _back_. This journey had transformed the five of them into a family—Noct, Laura, Prompto, and Gladio were all he had left in this world—and Ignis would not countenance the loss of one of their own. But Prompto’s rescue had to be done delicately, logically. Their duty to the helpless, to the many, came first. And by the time they’d secured the people, Prompto would’ve probably already been dragged halfway to Gralea—if Ignis’s experience in the other universe was anything to go by.

Fear and vengeance were roiling in Laura’s thoughts as well—dark and violent and cold in a way that reminded him of Tigiano square. She wanted to leap off the train that very moment, rescue Prompto, and make good on her promise to the Chancellor—even if her threat had been only in regard to harming Ignis. Only the dormancy in Noct’s mind kept her from acting on her desires, but he felt as though he needed to say more to keep her there once she’d reached and revived Noct. One of them needed to be the rational one, and it didn’t seem as though it was going to be her today.

_Remember that your duty is to Noct first, then the rest of us. The sun is about to set, and if we’re attacked now, this entire train of citizens will be lost to the daemons._

_But Prompto—_ she protested.

_Has been trained. The Chancellor likely won’t harm him unless Noct is there to be hurt by it._

_But—_

_And remember, it could be part of a trap for you, getting you alone back there. Or he might just be using Prompto to lure us to Gralea that much more quickly, as he did with me in the other universe. Rose, please. All we can do is push onward._

Ignis could feel that she was nearly ready to scream from the frustration and the same fear for Prompto that his own was contributing to their shared mental state, but he knew she couldn’t argue with his logic.

 _You’re . . . right,_ she ground out reluctantly. _By the light of all the stars, how many times am I going to fail you all?_

_Sometimes, we need to take care of ourselves, as well. We’ll get him back, Rose._

She had just leveraged open the doors and crawled to the roof of the last car. Ignis had just pulled out his phone in the slim hopes of being able to reach Prompto . . .

. . . and then the engine room was plunged into darkness.

“The fuck?!” Gladio yelled from the cab.

Ignis glanced back down in his phone’s direction again, feeling for the lock button that would light up the screen, but he couldn’t make out a single feature of anything in the room—including what should’ve been the lit-up mobile in his palm. An unnatural darkness then—magical—and likely the next part of the Chancellor’s plan.

“Iggy! Your light working?” Gladio called back as Ignis backed slowly closer to the door between the cab and engine room, stretching his senses out as best he could despite the roar of the engine reverberating off the walls. Knowing it would be a futile endeavor, he moved to flip on the travel light he kept clipped to his blazer at all times.

“No,” he replied as he drew closer. “I believe this is some game of the Chancellor’s. What’s your password?” Before Gladio answered, Ignis probed the air around him, checking to ensure that he could feel nothing—rather than the pool of scourge that was the Chancellor.

“Artichoke. You?” he asked quietly.

“Clusterfuck,” he sighed wearily. “I can sense that the engineers are who they say they are, as well . . . well—who they _aren’t_ , at least. I have reason to believe the Chancellor has gotten what he’s come for and is keeping us from turning back to retrieve Prompto.”

 _Is it dark where you are?_ he asked Laura.

“They got Prompto? Gods damnit,” Gladio muttered.

_No. But I have Noct. He’s been pistol-whipped, from the looks of things. Knocked out. Looks like the necklace gave him a potion, but he’ll need a couple of minutes to come to._

_So it’s us he’s targeting for the moment,_ Ignis said, summoning his daggers. As he backed partially into the cab so he could hear everything going on in both rooms, he warned Gladio, “At your back.”

“And I got yours,” he responded before raising his voice to the two engineers. “You guys can handle driving this thing blind?”

“For now,” Sarah said. “We’ll have issues knowing when we’ve reached Tenebrae, though.”

“All right, just keep doin’ what you’re doin’. We’ll cover you,” Gladio replied before lowering his voice. “Whaddya think?”

“The King of Daemons has plunged us into an unnatural darkness. I can only surmise that daemons are on the way.”

“We can’t see a damn thing! How we gonna fight without killing each other?”

“Summon a shield and cover the engineers,” Ignis growled in response, readying his Therinal daggers. “This is no place for greatswords.”

 _Remember, the space is small, so hearing will be your most useful sense. Use the sound of the engine to your advantage; create an image of what the echoes tell you. But don’t forget to listen to your other senses,_ Laura said. _Please, be careful._

“You think you can do that dancing shit in the dark?” Gladio asked.

Darkness had plagued Ignis his entire life—though admittedly his youth had been haunted by more of a metaphorical gloom. The literal darkness that loomed in their futures, however, was another matter entirely. Daemon populations would increase to the point where any hunter caught outside a city would be set upon immediately if he wore a light as he did now. Even daemon-repelling lights, should they discover a way to manufacture them anytime soon, would act as a beacon, providing the daemons a location for the moment they failed or were turned off. They would all have to learn to defend themselves in the dark soon.

And here was Gladio, whom Ignis had once considered the far superior swordsman, rendered helpless.

All those alternate versions of himself that had gone blind—with the same Intuition and the same skill in bladework as he—would they recover their skills in time to fight in this new world of theirs? Laura seemed to think so. His other sighted selves would be forced to face the same challenge eventually, but without Laura’s help. It seemed that whether blinded or not, Ignis was destined to live his life in that darkness he’d always despised. But at the very least, he no longer feared it.

“Gladio? I was born to dance in the dark.”

Even over the sound of the train’s engine, he could hear the shift of Gladio’s hair over his jacket collar as he most likely shook his head, chuckling.

“Who the fuck are you anymore, man? Seriously though, I’m real proud of ya, Iggy.”

Ignis neglected to answer, however, as they both grew still to fully hear the veiled whispering of daemons as they coalesced into their solid form from the floor of the train—what sounded like three separate locations in the engine room. He certainly hoped these daemons weren’t too skilled, as three was rather a lot to take on in his first blind fight.

_I’m hoping they’ll be lower leveled. I have a feeling Ardyn might’ve shat himself when I threatened him with eternal damnation if he harmed you._

_Oh . . . brilliant. I feel loads better now, thanks._

They would need to sit down and have a chat about where this feud between Laura and the Chancellor was headed—because he didn’t like it. Would they be forced to choose between their lives and her soul before this was over? She may have sparked fear in the Chancellor’s heart at the prospect of a tortured eternity, but what would carrying that promise out do to her? Perhaps the Chancellor’s fear would keep the situation from deteriorating to that level, but Ignis didn’t care for the cost either way if things went wrong.

  _We’ll talk about it when we reach Tenebrae,_ she said. _Now go and dance with them._

The moment the first daemon shifted on its feet, Ignis turned the full weight of his attention to the room: the breathing of his three charges at his back; the shuffling of the daemons in front of him; the vibration of the train under his boots; the shift of the air against his skin; the scent of sweat, fear, oil, and daemon in the room; the scourge from the daemons’ bodies; the echoes of all these sounds and sensations off the walls, floors, and occupants. For a fleeting moment, he believed he could even feel the life forces of the humans behind him—the electrical signals Rose had been telling him about. Using this information, he created an image of the space and its occupants in his mind.

Perfectly calm, Ignis blindly jabbed a blade in the air at chest level as he felt one of the daemons gather itself for a leap. The vibration ringing through the hilt told him that the body was small, possibly humanoid, if the thin rods of flesh tearing at his arms were any clue. Given that it had attacked first and not particularly viciously, it was unlikely to be a tonberry. That left him with ten other options of which he was aware.

Dancing around the massive wall of hot, vibrating metal that was the engine in the center of the room, Ignis stabbed out swiftly and violently, catching a daemon square in the chest before whirling to slash across another that had used his distraction to leap for his back. As he dove, wove, and struck, he continued to collect data about the three daemons circling the engine room—all of the same type, he believed. Once he’d determined that the creatures didn’t have wings, due to the lack of flapping and air attacks, he’d narrowed the possibilities down to four: alberichs, glamhoths, goblins, and snagas—all of which were weak to fire. Reaching for the bond with the Crystal through both Noct and Laura, Ignis crossed his daggers and ignited the spark, hearing them flare to life, but he was somewhat disappointed to see that his magical fire couldn’t penetrate the unnatural blackness.

Two of the daemons were nearly finished before Ignis had summoned his namesake, so a single slash across each of their throats was enough to finish them off and fill the air with the exhaling sound of melting miasma. Only one daemon left.

Ignis closed his useless eyes and tilted his head, reaching out with his Intuition to taste that dark scourge on the air—and there, at the back corner of the room. There was something cold about the feel of it, as though Ignis needed to apply fire to restore the equilibrium. Was this what his other self had sensed when fighting the malboro?

Ignis spun his right dagger in his hand, catching it by the fiery blade and flinging it with vicious precision toward the creature as he rushed to its position to thrust his left dagger into its chest, pinning it to the ground.

The moment his blade touched the floor, a pool of miasma melting beneath his boots, the image of the grating at his feet and the dirty black train engine blinked back into existence. Ignis raised his head in Gladio’s direction to find him standing in the doorway to the cab, his power shield in one hand and Laura’s sword held across him in the other.

“Sorted!” Ignis said with a grin as he jumped to his feet, flicking his aching wrists in the air in victory.

 _You’ve done so well, my beautiful cocky bastard,_ Laura said affectionately.

“Iggy? Hot damn, you’re on fire today,” Gladio said softly. “Noct and Laura okay? What’re we gonna do about Prompto?”

_Noct’s dialing you now. He’s frantic._

“Noct and Laura are all right,” Ignis replied, pulling out his phone a second before it began vibrating in his hand.

“Ignis, you gotta stop this thing,” Noct said in a panic the moment he put his phone to his ear. “Prompto fell off the train; I pushed him. I mean—Ardyn made me! I dunno where he is, but we can’t leave him!”

“Stay calm, Noct. I’m as concerned for Prompto as you are, but stopping the train would endanger everyone on board. We’d be sitting ducks for the daemons.”

“That’s what Laura said, but what do we do?!”

“First, we drop the passengers off at Tenebrae,” he replied as he strode to the front of the cab to assess their position. “We’ll be arriving shortly—as soon as we clear this tunnel up ahead.”

“WHAT ABOUT PROMPTO?”

“Given the Chancellor’s involvement, it’s probable he’s no longer where we left him. In any case, he may try to contact us. Let us wait and hope for now. Can you and Laura make your way here? Gladio’s with me.”

“Are the two of you okay at least?” he asked, his voice growing quiet with regret and worry.

Ignis glanced at Gladio, whose eyes were alert and darting over the room, his blade and shield still held at the ready in case any more daemons appeared as the cab passed underneath the tunnel’s arch.

“Yes.”

“Okay, we’re on our way,” he replied, before he suddenly exclaimed in surprise. “We’ll be there as soon as we take care of these stowaways!”

The click of the phone may have been cause for concern had he not been connected to Laura. _Take care of him. He sounds as though he’s coming unhinged. We’ll stay here to protect the engineers._

_We’ve got daemons crawling all over this train. He’s all right; he’s got something to do, but we’ve got another problem—they’re breaking into windows in multiple cars._

_I’ll start clearing them from the inside then,_ Ignis said, summoning his daggers again. Turning to Gladio, he said, “Stay here and protect the engineers. Noct, Laura, and I will secure the rest of the train.”

“You got it,” Gladio called back, as Ignis had already turned and was striding through the engine room to the passenger cars.

 _I’ve gone down inside to clear my way from the back while Noct handles the top. Meet me in the middle?_ Laura asked.

_I’m on my way._

Ignis worked as quickly as he could, elbowing his way past the frightened, flailing passengers in the first carriage and thrusting blades into snagas as they ripped their claws and teeth into the innocent. It was a horrific sight—and he didn’t want to even consider how those men, women, and children that had been attacked today might’ve been infected now. After all, the very same daemons he was killing had once been innocent men, women, and children. But they were still no closer to discovering the vectors of infection besides the Chancellor himself. Ignis himself had been bitten and scratched hundreds of times, and he doubted it was the potions afterward protecting him from succumbing. Was the disease even spread that way? Laura had been right—how _had_ the plague managed to remain such a deep mystery for so long? The scourge seemed to affect animal and human, warp inanimate objects, spread both quickly and slowly.

“Everyone, behind me!” Ignis bellowed over the screams and roar of wind over the broken windows. “Follow me to the sleeping car!”

It seemed as though the passengers in the next two cars had gotten the same idea, since each was more abandoned than the last as he led his group of thirty or so to the first sleeper car.

“Use the mattresses to barricade the windows and doors, but please allow anyone else in that I may send back this way,” he instructed.  

 _What’s your status? We should be clearing the tunnel any moment,_ Ignis said once he’d gotten the passengers situated and ensured there were no daemons coming up from behind him.

 _I’ll meet you in the next car,_ she replied.

With one last glance around, Ignis strode down the deserted corridor with his daggers crossed at the ready in front of him, his steps haunted by the eerie giggling and cackling of arachnes clinging to the roof and crawling up the walls of the outside of the train.

“Ignis,” Laura sighed as the door to the seating car shut behind him.

The car was deserted, its windows unbroken, so Ignis dismissed his blades as he rushed to the opposite end where she stood. Three steps in, however, several things happened at once.

The car was plunged into light as they emerged from tunnel, likely dealing damage to the daemons still lingering outside train, but the sun didn’t seem to be strong enough to force them to melt away. A snaga crawled its way up the window, smirking at him with bright yellow eyes as he tried to get a glimpse of their location beyond the daemon. Ignis caught a brief flash of sparkling blue writhing in the misty air over the water-filled gorge to his right before Laura shouted his name in fear and dread.

And his entire world tipped and turned into fire and water.

It was the fire Ignis couldn’t help but notice first—searing his mind like a branding iron, leaving charred and blistered thoughts of panic in its wake and reducing him to instinct. He couldn’t even gather enough wits about him to remember his own name, let alone call for help. Out of reflex, he sucked in a gasp of a breath, but the water rushing in to burn the back of his throat made him gag and convulse.

How was he suddenly underwater?

**_Filthy mortal that dares to lie with divinity, how dare you stand in the presence of the Goddess of the Seas with your sin bared proudly for all to see? Naked, grasping savage that you are, have you no tribute to the Six who protect your path?_ **

It had only been seconds, but the partial relief from the cessation of fiery torture was enough to clear his thoughts—for a moment. Rose’s mind washed over his like a cool mountain stream, soothing the telepathic damage and shielding him from the mysterious battering attack with a wall of sparkling gold.

But his relief was short-lived, as he was still trying to choke up a mouthful of water.

_I’m coming, Ignis. Swim up before she fills the car completely._

He blindly did as he was told, swimming up to the surface despite the itching in his lungs, the instinct to try and draw breath, and the panic threatening to take over his rational mind. His lips had only just breached the surface—he’d had only just enough time to cough his lungs free and take in a partial breath before he was completely submerged again.

Ignis opened his eyes, finally somewhat able to assess the scene, though what conclusions he was able to draw did little to comfort him. The daemons were no longer clinging to the outside of the train, but the compartment he and Laura were in was completely filled with water. In the haze of his pain, he hadn’t noticed that he’d floated up near the ceiling as his feet drifted over the tops of the seats. And beyond the blurry windows, he could just make out the sparkling blue serpentine body of Leviathan, her fins rippling with her movement as she undulated toward them.

**_She who has committed the crime of Eos shall be tormented in the fires of eternity, along with her obscene animal._ **

_Rose, I’m running out of air,_ he called out urgently. And their situation was hardly going to improve once the Hydraean reached them.

 _Do you remember when we were in the ocean?_ Laura asked as he felt hands on his shoulders turning him around to face her. For a fleeting moment, Ignis thought of how ethereally beautiful she looked, with her skin glowing that pale blue in the reflection of the water, the tendrils of her dark hair loosening from its twist to dance in the current around her face—until he suddenly snapped back to reality and registered her question.

Needing no further direction, he let his used breath out on an exhale of bubbles before she gave him a slight smile and pressed her lips to his.

That sweet relief of a lungful of air washed over him as she said, _Now, I need you to hold onto that seat there as tightly as you can._ He glanced down to where she was pointing—the base of a seat whose feet were bolted to the floor—and she continued, _I’m going to break the window and part of the train wall, and it’s going to try to suck us out over the gorge. Please don’t let it do that._

 _I shall endeavor to do my very best,_ he said with a wry smile before swimming down to the seat— wrapping both his arms around one bar, hooking his feet around the bar of the seat behind him, and giving her the signal to begin.

Gripping the luggage rack above the window, Laura reached out with her free hand to press against the glass as a flash of silver light emanated from her palm. Ignis could feel the cracking in the back of his teeth as a web of fissures grew underneath her fingertips; followed by a delicate, sharp shattering; then a high-pitched scream of shearing metal and the roar of rushing water as it poured from the car.

Laura was already standing at the hole in the train by the time he was able to get his feet underneath him and drag his dripping body to her side, summoning his Therinal blades to his hands as he drew near.

 _She’s made her stance rather clear, I think,_ Ignis said, glaring at the water dragon as she halted in front of them. _Shall we turn the tide on the Tidemother?_

Laura was completely soaked through, appearing as a drowning victim as her heavy sweater dripped steadily in a puddle at her feet and her plastered hair trickled with rivulets of water down her neck, but that gold and blue fire that Ignis had always loved and feared blazed in her eyes as she, too, stared down divinity.

 _Yes, let’s shall,_ she growled, her mental voice deadly. _I grow weary of this world thinking it can push me around. I’ve been kind and patient long enough._

Never in his life did Ignis imagine that he would be standing tall against one of the goddesses of legend as she sought to personally murder him and his wife—not in a trial as it had been for Noct in Altissia, but a matter of true life or death.

Ignis and Laura worked together as one—as they were always meant to—when the great sea serpent opened her mouth wide to bite down on their train car. As Ignis tossed a volley of spinning lightning daggers into her more delicate soft palate one after the other, summoning back and hurling once more, Laura sent out a telepathic whip, snapping at Leviathan’s mind and forcing her to snap her head back—shaking it roughly and sending waves of sparkling droplets flying to hit them in the face.

 _Careful, Leviathan,_ Laura said patronizingly. _I am **not** your mother; I won’t hesitate to destroy you for threatening me and mine. How dare you risk the covenant to indulge your own foolish prejudices?_

**_The Goddess of the Seas has forged no covenant with the Blasphemer or her filthy concubine._ **

_You forged the covenant with the King of Light, and that includes his Sword-Sworn. How cooperative do you think he would be if you killed his Advisor in cold blood?_

**_You, fallen woman, who lie with ephemeral filth and forsake your heritage, are not of the Sword-Sworn. The Astrals have seen to expel our own blood for the same crime you commit wantonly. What would we do to you, Abomination of Flesh?_ **

“What _is_ it with everyone throughout time and space calling me an abomination?” she muttered, summoning an emerald stone the size of both her fists. As the golden swirls of the Bad Wolf bled from her aura to her corporeal body, engulfing her in a glowing nebula, she continued in the doubled voice of her goddess aspect, “Well, I came prepared this time.”

Even her mental voice was doubled as she gazed serenely out at Leviathan and said calmly, _Don’t attempt to intimidate me, for you are as small and insignificant as a mortal in the eyes of the Goddess of Time. Are you prepared to test your mortality? I have felled gods and devils alike, and you are tiny. I will rip you out of time and space—out of all existence. Your death would not mean a new thread; you have spent too much of your life asleep in insignificance._

The Hydraean shoved her enormous eye nearly against the train’s opening, and Ignis tensed, stepping in front of Rose as he prepared to imbue his blades and send another volley of attacks directly into Leviathan’s eyeball, but Laura remained still, so he held his ground, following her lead. Try as he might to be otherwise, in the deepest recesses of his thoughts, he was still somewhat intimidated by the goddess he’d learned about in his lessons as a child, especially now that she had personally sought his death for his sexual pursuits—a scenario that had most certainly not been covered in his studies. But he couldn’t find it in himself for even a moment to fear as he stood tall next to the goddess he’d married.

Honestly, his life had become absurd.

**_Your threat is valid, reviled creature. Nevertheless, the Heirs of Eos are nearly gathered for the cleansing, and you threaten to restore the misbalance._ **

_There can be no child. If there is no line resulting from the union, there is no crime, no misbalance, though I would argue against your opinion on mixed children being blasphemous regardless._

It seemed odd to him that the gods should be so interested in his theoretical progeny when he himself had given the matter no thought since Rose had told him it was impossible. Stars, had it only been months since he’d first had to contemplate his decision? But regardless—his thoughts on the matter hadn’t changed. Spending his life with Rose was far more important than reproducing, in his mind.

**_Filthy harlot, blood of divinity that lies with frail flesh and claims them equal to the gods!_ **

_Don’t claim yourselves gods if you aren’t prepared for the sacrifice it entails. What have you done, really, to protect this world?_

The floor shuddered beneath his feet as the train, which Ignis hadn’t noticed had stopped, began moving again, and Leviathan swam in the air alongside them, keeping her eye level with their window.

**_What would a foreign wretch know of sacrifices of the mighty Six?_ **

Laura took a single step closer to the window. _I can see I will not get through to you. Begone. I shall let Noctis decide what to do with you for attempting to murder his most beloved friend and Sword-Sworn._

As the last echoes of her telepathic voice faded away, she coiled her mind at the ready again, preparing to strike out at the goddess, but the sea serpent snapped her jaws in frustration and whipped her head around, diving swiftly into the water below with a thunderous splash.

The air grew calm quickly—the only sound in the car was the gentle breeze blowing over the hole in the train, the rhythmic clacking of the wheels against the rail, and the susurrous roar of waterfalls dropping off impossibly high rocky cliff faces and being swept away into mist before they could reach the crystal blue water far below.

Laura took a step back from the window, letting the gold recede back into her skin as she turned to him, searching his face and mind for signs of any damage.

“It feels like Noct and Gladio made it through okay. What about you? Are you all right?” she asked, and he could tell she wasn’t referring only to the physical and telepathic dangers of this most recent encounter. Not only had he attacked a goddess of his world, that very same deity had personally referred to him as a filthy concubine, of all things.

Yes, his life had indeed become absurd.

“Yes, I believe I am.”

“Good,” she said with a nod before stepping back to the shattered window and glaring down at the water. She placed a hand to her temple and closed her eyes. “Gods, I hate telepathic attacks. I’m glad she fell for that.”

“So you were bluffing?” he asked in surprise, stepping up beside her to brush her hair from her forehead.

“Well,” she began with a grimace, “I certainly could’ve killed her if she’d decided to attack, but no way could I have actually ripped her out of time and space.”

“I thought the Bad Wolf was capable of such a feat.”

“Not since the Doctor took the power out of me. Remember? I can only call up her shadow now. Still—works as an intimidation tactic,” she said with a cheeky smile up at him, her tongue sneaking out to touch the top row of her teeth.

“You are mad, woman,” he said softly, brushing his fingers down her cheek to cup her jaw.

Just as he leaned to capture her lips, she stood on her tiptoes to meet him in the middle. The scent and flavor of ginger from this morning’s meal and the bitter taste of tea lingered on her breath as he drank her in.

He pulled back as the train began to slow again. Her expression had grown soft and loving and so very human so quickly—was he the one with the power to tame her like this?

“Next time you’re in trouble like that,” she said softly, searching his eyes, “summon your daggers again. I may have placed some rather extensive protective spells on those firestones of yours, including against telepathic attacks.”

“Rose, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” she exclaimed, taking a step back and raising her hands in surrender. “Well, nothing you wouldn’t approve of, anyway. I’ve had twelve years to think of everything Ardyn or Ifrit could throw at you, and while I was at it, I went ahead and added protections from the other gods as well, in case he turned them, too.”

“I may not understand a lot about the magic you do, but even I know that the stones in those blades couldn’t possibly supply enough energy to protect me from the gods.”

By the gods that were after them, he wanted to kiss that smirk right off her face.

“You might be surprised. Remember what I said about the dragons discovering those stones when the world was first created? Well, I doubt that’s true, but Eilendil’s people have stored energy in those stones a very long time. There’s probably enough energy to knock the planet off its axis in those blades.”

Their bodies swayed with the train coming to a stop, but Ignis didn’t bother turning around to take in the sight of what was supposed to be one of Eos’s most beautiful cities. Instead, he gaped down at Laura. 

“Those _should_ be on your falchions. Why in the world would you entrust such priceless keepsakes to me?”

“I didn’t,” she said with a grin. “Those stones belong to Eilendil, and he gave them to you because he loves you fiercely.”

At a loss for words, he led her by the elbow toward the car’s exit. He’d spent no time alone with the dragon beyond their days together in Altissia and had barely exchanged a handful of words with him the few times he’d joined them at Therinal—beyond his standard greeting of ‘Ignis Scientia.’

“Even after he elected to stay behind, I was under the impression that he didn’t even like me,” Ignis muttered as he opened the door that led to the vestibule and stepped to the side to allow Laura through.

She stopped and leaned up to leave a smattering of kisses along the underside of his jaw, sending him an image of Eilendil, his eyes half-closed, curled up on Therinal’s top floor as the strains of a violin floated up from the balcony opening.

“That’s just how he is—how his people were, really. Hell, I’m bonded to him, and he’s always hurling insults at my stupidity.”

“And I can hardly blame him for that after having known you a while,” he muttered as he stepped off the train and turned to offer her a hand down. She elbowed him in the side for his remark when she landed, but her expression grew grave as she looked out toward Tenebrae.

“Ignis,” she said with a nod toward the city.

As the adrenaline from the past few hours began to wane, he took a deep breath, noting the taste of smoke on the air that reminded him far too much of standing on that overlook outside Insomnia. Dread growing in his chest, he turned to lay eyes on his father’s homeland for the first time, knowing in his heart he would spot the source of the scent immediately.

Fenestala Manor, jewel of Tenebrae and former home to Lady Lunafreya, was on fire.


	73. Chapter 73

For once, Gladio didn’t lecture him on moping as he sat hunched over on the steps of the station, staring at his boots and replaying over and over the flash of panic and confusion on Prompto’s face as he fell—because Noct had pushed him. Did Prompto think he’d done it on purpose? What if he didn’t understand that Noct had thought it was Ardyn?

Gods, how had he fallen for that? Looking back on it, Prompto had been talking a little weird, but Noct had chalked it up to the heat of the battle and nerves about Ardyn being around. But damnit, he should’ve known it was still Ardyn the moment he’d woken up. Judging by the text from Iggy, Laura had figured it out, so why had he been incapable of recognizing his worst enemy from his best friend?

Oh shit, what if he wasn’t alive? What if Noct had killed his best friend, the only _real_ friend he had? Things had changed between Noct and the other three since they’d set out on this trip—they were family now, but that would never change the fact that Prompto had been the only one to freely volunteer for this mission, even if he hadn’t known what they’d all been getting into at the time. Prompto was the only one in the whole world that wasn’t around him because of duty, the only one Noct didn’t have to be a King for.

Gladio let out a sigh of frustration, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked over the heads of the dazed passengers stumbling onto the platform, which hadn’t been long enough to hold the entire train. Gladio and Noct had been waiting for everyone from the front to get off before it could pull forward over the gorge to let everyone in back off. No one’s cellphones were working anymore, but that hadn’t stopped Noct and Gladio from attempting nonstop phone calls to both Prompto and Iggy.

Leviathan’s roaring and the sound of tearing metal as they were getting off the train was enough to let them know that something big had happened back there, even if they couldn’t see anything past the cave-like train station, and of course, Laura and Iggy had to have been involved somehow. Noct only hoped they hadn’t been overrun by daemons and killed. That would’ve been his fault, too, for waiting so long to summon the goddess.

“Why the hell are you guys all wet?” Noct heard Gladio ask, and he looked up from his useless phone to see Laura and Iggy approaching, looking like they’d taken a dip in the Alstor Slough with all their clothes on. Iggy seemed to be unhurt, at least, but Laura kept holding her arm at a weird angle.

“A little run-in with the Hydraean. Nothing to be terribly concerned about,” Iggy said casually. He’d removed his jacket and gloves and was doing his best to sort his drenched hair as they came to a stop in front of them. His voice grew low and serious as he noticed Noct’s phone in his hands. “Any word from Prompto?”

Noct stared down at his boots, shaking his head. “Looks like all communications are out now.”

“Hold on a second,” Laura interrupted as she glared up at Iggy, crossing her arms and leaning into her hip. “’Nothing to be terribly concerned about?’ _Tell him._ ”

Iggy crossed his arms over his chest as well, glaring down at her for a moment before reluctantly turning to Noct. “It would seem that at least one of the Six doesn’t approve of our marriage.”

“She tried to kill us both!” Laura argued, throwing her hands up in the air.

“What?!” Noct snapped, but then he suddenly made the connection—all that stuff in Pitioss with the gods not liking mixed relationships. He hadn’t applied that same logic to Iggy and Laura, since Laura seemed so . . . human most of the time. When Leviathan had shown up in his head with an offer to help after his long, fruitless battle to the front of the train, he hadn’t given it a second thought to summon her, even if it was gonna suck him dry of power and energy for the next day or so. But this? No fucking way. They were playing by all the rules, down here doing all the suffering, and he wasn’t gonna accept being betrayed like this.

“Holy shit,” Gladio said under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “You guys fought off the Tidemother by yourselves?”

“Yes, and she’s most displeased,” Iggy said with a sigh. “Laura told her that she’d leave Noct to decide how to handle the situation.”

“Is it just her, or all of the Six? What do you guys recommend I do?” Noct asked, because he didn’t have a clue what anyone in the world _could_ do when the gods were out for blood. Not even Eos herself had been able to stand up to them, and how long could the five . . . _four_ of them protect Laura and Iggy? He could maybe threaten not to cooperate with this whole Chosen King business, but then they’d all know it would be an empty threat. The humans needed this solved just as much as the gods did.

“It’s difficult to say. Gentiana’s clue leading us to Pitioss implies that at least one of the gods is ashamed of their actions against Eos, and the Hydraean’s attitude toward mortals is well-known. We can only hope the others will be more accommodating,” Ignis said.

“In the meantime, you could always just not summon them. They don’t seem willing to expend the energy it takes to bring themselves to this realm on their own,” Laura said.

Iggy’s brow furrowed as he took a step toward Noct. “I object. We obtained their services to use in cases they were needed, and the odds that they will be needed the closer we draw to Gralea are high indeed.”

“All right, compromise,” Noct said. “I won’t summon any of them unless lives are at stake, and I won’t summon Leviathan until we get answers from one of the others. Good?”

With a reluctant sigh, Iggy said, “That does appear to be the safest course of action for all parties involved. I must offer my most sincere apologies for inconveniencing the group like this, particularly when the summons already take so much from you. How are you feeling?”

He summoned a bottle of water and thrust it into Noct’s hand as Noct answered dully, “I’m fine, Specs. Just tired.” But he looked up to meet his brother’s eyes as he continued, “And don’t you dare apologize for this. I’m done with gods and fate and whatever dictating our lives. You two be together and be happy. This is why we’re fighting.”

Iggy and Laura. Prompto and maybe Cindy? Gladio and . . . whoever he finally managed to settle down with. Noct was doing this for everyone that had made sacrifices—to avenge the deaths of those they’d lost and to make sure that everyone left alive at the end of this had the best lives possible. They deserved it after following him through all this shit.

And Prompto was gonna live to get his reward.

“What’re we gonna do about Prompto?” Noct asked, looking between the three of them standing over him, but he knew the answer already.

Iggy had been right not to stop the train—as much as he despised leaving his best friend behind like that. They all had a duty to the people first, and that fucking duty had always put the ones he loved at risk. But now that they’d seen everyone safely to Tenebrae, what was stopping them from going back?

“Based on Laura’s experience down in the mines with the other universes, I would hazard a guess to say that if he survived the fall, he’ll be waiting for us in Gralea,” Iggy said. “Please, Noct. It would make no sense for the Chancellor to keep him back in Piztala.”

“I hate playing the waiting game with Prompto’s life on the line,” Noct said with a scowl. “Who knows what Ardyn’s doing to him right now?”

“Perhaps Laura’s threat from this latest run-in will give him pause,” Iggy suggested before turning to Laura.

Even Gladio had to plop down on the stairs next to him as Laura filled them in on her encounter with Ardyn while he’d been screwing around with time. When she’d finished, Noct said hopefully, “So you think he’s gonna back off now cause you misled him into thinking you’re this universe’s Eos?”

“Well, I might have given him a reason to be more careful with Prompto out of fear of me—should definitely keep him from taking Ignis. Only problem now is that he has reason to hate Eos because the Crystal rejected him as Chosen King. He’ll be after me—not that he didn’t have a reason to before.”

“So . . . what’s the best course of action for us now?” Gladio asked.

“As much as I would prefer to press onward, I’m afraid we need to linger here for a bit. Noct needs to recover from the summoning, and we need to get the situation here under control.” As Iggy nodded out toward the city, Noct followed his gaze to the burning buildings, the lines of people struggling with their belongings toward the train platform.

Luna’s home—how had this happened? Noct remembered coming here as a kid—those same high, columns spreading out like trees to support the open part of the train platform; those delicate-looking bridges that spanned enormous drop-offs; and the manor itself overlooking the other parts of the city as it balanced precariously on impossibly high and narrow cliffs. He’d noticed the fires destroying the infrastructure of the palace where he’d first met his future wife the second he’d gotten off the train, but he hadn’t given it much thought because of Prompto.

Now, though, it felt like he was losing her all over again.

“Too bad Leviathan was too busy trying to eat us to actually do something useful and put that fire out,” Laura grumbled. “Flew right over the manor, too, and didn’t do a thing.”

“Yes, well, it’s not as though we can call her back,” Iggy said. “Two summonings in one day could kill Noct.”

“Not to mention kill you,” Noct added.

“Welp,” Gladio said with a groan as he pushed on his knees to get to his feet, “better go see what we can do with just our regular selves to help. Let’s go find out who’s in charge of this operation.”

As Noct dragged himself to his feet, a familiar voice sounded from behind him, “Well, look who’s here.”

“Aranea,” Noct scoffed as he turned to look at her. “Guess we have you to thank for this mess.”

“You!” Gladio shouted, advancing on Aranea with his fists clenched at his sides. “You got a lotta nerve showin’ up here after Altissia.” He flung a hand violently up at the burning city. “And now this?! Give us one good reason why we shouldn’t end you right here and now.”

Aranea put her hands on her hips and glared up at Gladio in almost the exact same way Laura would sometimes glare up at Iggy, and what the hell was that all about? The way Gladio had yelled and the way they were staring daggers at one another now suggested there was something personal between the two of them, but as far as Noct knew, Gladio had only met her the one time at Vaullerey.

Aranea was the first to break eye contact, looking back to Noct. “More to it than meets the eye. You wanna know who to thank?” she retorted, her eyes shooting back to Gladio for a second before turning on her heel and walking toward the nearest bridge. “Come with me.”

Gladio didn’t wait for Noct to reply or verify that he was coming along—just stalked off right behind Aranea, his fists still clenched at his sides.

“Can’t wait to hear this,” Noct chuckled bitterly as he shuffled along behind the tense pair. Flicking his eyes in Laura’s and Iggy’s direction, he asked, “Either of you know what that’s all about?”

As Iggy shook his head, Laura said, “They’re both angry at each other, but I imagine you gathered that.”

“Uh . . . yeah, think I did manage that much,” he said under his breath as Aranea led them across the marble bridge, which was beginning to glow orange in the light of the dying sun.

She stopped suddenly, turning to inspect the four of them. “Uh, wasn’t there one more of you guys?”

Noct let his gaze drift to the columns of black smoke rising from Fenestala, trying with all his might to hold his tears back as he choked, “Yeah, there was.” But for as hard as he tried, he couldn’t keep them from his voice.

Gods damnit. Even if they did somehow manage to find him again, how could Prompto ever forgive him for just . . . moving on like this? It felt so wrong. At least with Luna, he had known for a fact that she was dead and that he himself hadn’t been the one to . . ..

“We . . . lost track of him,” Laura supplied, her tone gentle as she placed a comforting hand on Noct’s shoulder.

“Is he dead?”

 _Fuck, no he’s not,_ he wanted to spit back at her. Instead, he near-whispered, “I . . . I dunno.”

“Then quit mopin’, keep hopin’,” Aranea said with a sigh, leading them to where two Magitek engines were parked in a clearing on the other side of the bridge. “And in the meantime, handle what’s at hand.”

“Ugh,” Laura scoffed in disgust. “Your sentiment is touching, but your bedside manner could use some work.”

“I thought it was good,” Aranea said with a shrug. “Rhymed and everything.”

“Pardon me, but you’re commenting on _her_ bedside manner?” Iggy asked, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, but Laura ignored him and turned to Noct.

“I swore an oath, Noct,” she reminded him in a low voice, squeezing his shoulder. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to get him back in one piece.”

“We all will,” Gladio agreed, and Iggy nodded.

“Well, aren’t you boys sweet?” Aranea drawled.

 Gladio narrowed his eyes almost evilly at the back of Aranea’s head. “So, if it’s not you we thank for this . . ..”

“Thank the daemons, pawns of the Imperial army, and that creepy Chancellor. Seems to be a friend of yours—wanted to welcome you to Tenebrae.”

“Yeah, that’s the guy you’re workin’ for, you know,” Gladio said accusingly.

“ _Worked_ for,” she corrected as she stepped off the bridge and onto a dirt path. “My men and I are in the search and rescue business now. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The Empire’s pretty much gone now.”

“What do you mean by that?” Noct asked.

“Well, the High Commander got the ax, literally.”

“Shit, sounds like Ravus didn’t have it much better than Lady Lunafreya,” Gladio said. “That’s gonna make getting the King’s sword back kinda difficult.”

“The heirs of Eos continue to suffer,” Laura said sadly. “Why did he even return after he showed his hand in Altissia?”

Ignis lowered his eyes to the ground, shaking his head. “It’s a pity we never had the chance to talk things out after his sister died. He still had mixed feelings about Noct as King when last we met.”

“And the Emperor’s no more than a husk at this point. Everyone in charge is gone now. It’s total chaos. All hell broke loose in the daemon labs,” Aranea said.

“Elaborate.”

“Unprogrammed MTs and daemons left to run amok. Now they’re everywhere. The capital’s crawling with them. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the bastards are stronger than ever now,” she said, gritting her teeth in frustration as she stared up at the darkening sky—way too early. “Not enough daylight to keep ‘em in one place anymore.”

“Gods damnit,” Gladio said quietly. “All those people . . . daemonized.”

There was something about Aranea’s news that left a hole in Noct’s heart, or made him feel like he’d missed a step going downstairs. He’d thought this mission was gonna be straightforward as he’d stood on that overlook and watched the only home he’d ever known burn while standing next to the only family he had left. It was all about getting his own Royal Armiger, becoming the King, and storming into Gralea to take down the Emperor and get the Crystal back—even if it took his life. But with this news, that loss of home and someone to point the finger at had all been fake. Even though they’d all known it since Altissia, the mask was officially ripped away now to reveal that it’d never been Niflheim they were fighting.

It’d been his own gods damned ancestor.

And even though he knew it wasn’t his fault, it kinda was. There was a ticking timer left on the world now, and he was the only key to diffusing the bomb. He couldn’t afford to be tired anymore, couldn’t afford to be scared because literally the entire world—even the innocent citizens of the empire he’d once considered his enemy—was resting on his shoulders. The lives of the people he loved most in the world were included in that, but hell, that didn’t just erase his fear, his exhaustion.

“Long story short?” Aranea said, interrupting the worry and determination that was welling up inside him at these thoughts. “We’re stuck in this rut until you go and take back what’s yours.”

He _would_ take back what was his, and soon. The Crystal. His kingdom. Gods, Prompto.

“Yeah, we’re gonna do just that as soon as things are stabilized here.”

“You mentioned being part of the relief effort,” Iggy said as the dirt path gave way to grassy field beneath their feet. “We have a favor to ask.”

“Ask away.”

“In light of what you’ve told us, we _can’t_ allow the other passengers to continue on . . .,” he trailed off, leaving his request implied.

“Sure,” she sighed. “Leave ‘em to me.”

“Thank you, Aranea. That’s very kind of you,” Laura said.

“Well, what else am I gonna do? Gotta admit, I’ve got the skills, and I love the thrill, but I ain’t gonna fight for an Empire that’s ending the world. Best I can do is fight against them, and this is the best way.”

“It says more about your heart than you think.”

Aranea stopped again, her gray hair and green eyes shining in the twilight as she looked up with some kinda significance at Gladio, who glowered down at her. “I wasn’t involved with any civilians in the ops in Altissia,” she said softly. “And I quit when the Chancellor asked me to do Tenebrae. My men and I are doing everything we can inside the city—getting people out, putting out fires.”

Gladio let out a long, weary sigh, his scowl softening into a frown. “Either way, I don’t got time to deal with this shit right now. Just tell us what needs doing; then we’re gettin’ on a train to Gralea.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “And who’s gonna drive this train?”

Gladio opened his mouth, froze, then looked over to Laura, who gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Couldn’t be that hard, I guess. I could get a crash course on it from Richard and Sarah.”

“Emphasis on ‘crash,’” Iggy muttered under his breath, which earned him a playful slap on the arm.

“Don’t worry about that. I got your new engineers,” Aranea interrupted, turning to face the two men standing at attention next to a Magitek engine. Looking back to when they’d last seen Aranea at the Vesperpool, Noct thought he recognized them as the ones standing outside Steyliff with her before the five of them went inside. “Biggs and Wedge. No need to worry. They can take a lickin’.”

Noct looked the two men up and down, taking in their hard expressions, their tense stances, and their Nif uniforms. Once upon a time, he would’ve taken one look at the two of them and seen an opposing force. But he had to remind himself that there was no Empire anymore; it was humans against the dark, against his great uncle.

“Seriously? Oh, but this is _fantastic_!” Laura gushed, coming to stand in front of Biggs and Wedge and practically vibrating in a way that reminded Noct heartbreakingly of Prompto. “Your last names wouldn’t happen to be Darklighter and Antilles, would they? Fought in a war with a Biggs and Wedge once. Best starfighter pilots in that galaxy, and the best wingmen to have on your side.”

The man Aranea had identified as Biggs let his mouth drop open before replying in an accent that Laura would sometimes use, “Uhhh, no, My Lady. It’s Callux, but I’ll take the complimen’ regar’less, thank ye kindly.”

“And Wedge Kincaid, a’ your service,” Wedge said with a small bow before turning to Aranea. “Wha’s all this about?”

“Driving a train . . . to Gralea,” Aranea said.

“Tha’ all?” Biggs scoffed. “We’re ‘appy ta help. Can’ say the climate’ll be as co-operative though, ya know?”

“Righ’. Specially the gorge,” Wedge interjected.

“The place is freezin’! Makes sense, what with the Ice Goddess’s cold corpse lyin’ ‘round. Anyway, we’ll be waitin’ on board. Give us a ‘oller when you’re ready to shove off,” Biggs said with a wave as he slapped Wedge’s arm lightly and gestured toward the train. “Prolly gotta uncouple a few cars ‘fore we can get underway.”

“So weird how the multiverse works sometimes. Can you _believe_ it? What are the odds that those two names . . . together?” she asked Iggy in manic disbelief, who indulgently shook his head. Noct had long gotten used to letting her random references slide, so he could only imagine how it was for Iggy.

Noct turned to Aranea, eager to get started so he could get back on the train, get some sleep, and be heading forward again. “Is there anything we can do to help in the city?”

“My men have things under control. Got ‘em putting out fires as they scout the area for survivors, but it won’t be the highest priority until we’re sure the place is evacuated. Not even sure about the soundness of the structure. The place took a beatin’ from the engines. Looks like the noble families were their prime targets though, judging from the casualties.”

“And you’re sending them all to the train station?” Laura asked, looking back at the platform, which was growing more and more crowded with sobbing kids, huddled families, and people staring blankly off into space. “Perhaps we can stabilize things with the refugees while Biggs and Wedge get the train situated.”

“Yeah, I’d appreciate that. Makes my job easier and takes a load off my men. Thanks.”

Laura looked up at Iggy, and the two of them seemed to have their own private conversation for a second before she patted Gladio’s arm. “You want to help me get started on that?”

Gladio hesitated, opening his mouth to say something to Aranea before staring down at his boots and sighing. “Sure, Princess. Lead the way.”

As Gladio and Laura walked side by side back over the bridge, Noct asked, “You wanna tell me what that’s all about?”

“Not really,” she said with a shrug before striding up the open ramp of the MT engine behind her. She threw a hand over her shoulder as she called back, “I got work to do. Let Biggs or Wedge know if you wanna get a hold of me—only way to reach the city is by ship or shortwave radio. Main bridge is burned out.”

Iggy stepped up beside him, his hands over his ears, as the ship’s engines roared, flattening the grass and flowers at their feet as it rose into the air and headed for the lower levels of the city. Once it had grown quiet enough for him to uncover his ears, Iggy said, “Noct, if we’re intending to linger here for a while, might I suggest you take the time to speak with the servants of the manor? I’m sure they’d relish the chance to share their tales of Lady Lunafreya.”

The weight holding Noct down was so heavy that he couldn’t even bring himself to sigh at Iggy’s words. He knew Iggy was just trying to help him with the grieving process, or whatever, but there was so much about him and Luna that Iggy just didn’t understand. Noct may not have spent a lot of time with her in real life, but he knew her better than any stranger here did. He had no interest in hearing about his own fiancée through the filter of some random attendant.

“Yeah, Specs, good idea,” Noct mumbled. “I just wanna see something first.”

He’d spotted the flash of purplish-blue as soon as Aranea had led them over here, and still haunted by the last time he’d seen Luna standing in that flowing white gown in an endless field of sylleblossoms, he needed just an hour, just a minute, whatever he could get, to feel a little closer to her. Crossing the bridge onto the second clearing, Noct was careful not to crush a single blossom with his boots as he picked his way to the edge closest to the burning manor. He let out a whoosh of a breath as he flopped down on the ground in a spot clear of the flowers growing scattered across the plush grass.

Luna.

He guessed all these flowers would be dying off really soon. He wondered if they would ever come back.

_Look to the distance. Know that I am there._

Noct hoped with all his heart that she wasn’t here now. He didn’t want her to see what had become of all the places they’d played as kids, of her home. Noct knew from personal experience what it was like to taste that smoke on the air, to helplessly watch the one place in the whole world where everything was supposed to be safe as it burned. He’d never gotten the chance to ask her what she’d gone through since leaving Tenebrae to meet him in Altissia—how she’d ended up in Insomnia and gotten the Ring from his dad in the first place. How much of the Fall had she witnessed personally? She’d always been tough as nails, staying behind to watch over Ravus and her people when she was only twelve—watching the legacy of House Fleuret fall as she gracefully picked herself up after her mom died.

Why had he never been that strong? But at least he’d always had Iggy.

“Hey Specs?” Noct asked after what was probably an hour of spacing out, but of course he knew Iggy would still be behind him. “Why weren’t you with us when we came here last time?”

Iggy carefully stepped up to the edge of the cliff, looking out at the small column of fire still rising from the top of the manor into the dark sky. “I imagine His Majesty wanted to keep the retinue as small as possible while traveling so close to Niflheim, and with good reason, as it turned out. Well behaved though I was, another child would have been impossible to watch over in the middle of such turmoil.”

“Yeah, it was bad enough leaving Ravus and Luna behind. I’m glad you stayed back in Lucis, but I remember wishing you’d come with me at the time. Especially after the sun set and the stars came out.”

“I recall thinking much the same,” he replied quietly. “Even despite the tragedy, this place is stunning—the climate, the greenery, even the architecture suits me.” He paused, taking in a breath of air before looking down at Noct from the side of his eye and pushing his glasses up on his nose. “I’m not certain I ever told you this, but my father was from Tenebrae.”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Noct replied, wincing down at his lap, because of course he’d never known; of course he’d never asked. He used to be naïve enough to assume that Iggy had just appeared one day to be his annoying, not-so-imaginary best friend.

As he always did, Iggy tried to cover up that guilt that was weighing Noct’s chest down by changing the subject. “The manor doesn’t appear to be too badly damaged. Perhaps the people might yet recover from this disaster.”

Noct leaned back on his hands, inspecting the buildings he could see from this angle, each perched on its own grassy cliff. “It’s seen better days. So have the people. If what Aranea says is true, and all the ruling families are gone, it’s gonna leave this place a mess for a long time—a power vacuum.”

“Yes, I imagine Gralea will be experiencing a similar predicament once this is over.”

Noct inspected Iggy’s face closely as he gazed out over the city—the way his eyes tightened in pain like he was watching his own home suffer; the way his breaths came slow, deep, and easy like this was the air he’d always been meant to breathe; the way he just seemed to belong here in this lofty, windswept place—the same way Noct felt every time they pulled into Caem. Noct had always seen Iggy as a brother—even during all those years he wanted nothing to do with him. Since they’d left Insomnia, however, Noct was beginning to see him more and more as a man—as his own person with his own wants and dreams separate from the dreams he’d wanted for Noct all these years. Noct found himself wanting to become whatever it was Iggy saw in him—whatever it was Luna had seen in him at eight years old—just to thank him for giving up his entire life to be with him.

It was the least he could do.   

“Maybe you should take over this place when the time comes,” Noct suggested.

Iggy chuckled bashfully and shook his head. “I believe the denizens of Tenebrae would object. Besides, my place is by your side, Highness.”

And that was the kinda thing Noct couldn’t stand to hear anymore—from Iggy _or_ Gladio. Those two had given up everything, had never even gotten to have a real childhood, and what were they gonna have left when this was all over? More duties, more picking up the pieces of broken kingdoms. If things turned out the way Noct expected them to, then there was one thing he could do for his brother now, and that was to release him from his obligations after Noct was gone.

“I say, if you ever get the chance, take it. Gladio too. Let’s face it. Lucis is no more. We’re all one people now, and there are gonna be a billion ways to serve the people when this is over. Fuck the monarchy and do what makes you happy, Specs. That’s what I want for you guys more than anything,” he finished, trying not to choke on his words.

“Language, Highness,” Iggy replied half-heartedly, and the tone of his voice reminded Noct of Laura sometimes, when she’d remember people from her past. Did that mean he knew?

“Why do you still get onto me about that? I’ve heard you slip a time or two since we left, so don’t act like you never swear.”

“Because unlike you, I possess some semblance of self-control,” he replied haughtily, raising his chin in the air. “And _when_ Lucis is restored, and you’re sitting on that throne, we’ll need a king that can keep a civilized tongue in his head.”

So—either he didn’t know, or he was lying to himself . . . and knowing Iggy, it was probably the latter, as stubborn as he was. He’d thought after that talk in Altissia when Iggy’d suggested they stop their journey that he’d finally figured it out, but now Noct wasn’t so sure.

If they were all being honest with themselves, they’d known since the day he’d been Chosen . . . deep down, but Noct had known for sure the first time that sword sliced into his chest and he felt the spirit of the Wise enter his heart. He had so many thoughts and memories swirling around in his head now—none worth a gods damn thing for actually finishing this mission, just a lot of crap about honor and duty—but it made him feel old and ancient with the weight of gods only knew how many of his ancestors. And the burden was getting heavier by the day. Was this what his dad had felt like every day as he gave his life to hold up the Wall? It didn’t really matter how hard he’d worked to hide it—the whisper behind every mention of duty told Noct his entire life that Lucian kings were born to die.

“Always keepin’ me on the straight and narrow,” Noct replied lightly on a sigh as he heaved himself to his feet. He needed to get up now, or he was gonna end up passing out right here in the middle of this field with all Aranea’s men stomping around. Slapping Ignis lightly on the back, he said, “I dunno about you, but I’m starved. Let’s go see what Laura can pull out before she recruits us for whatever she’s got goin’ on down there.”

“I’m afraid she’s already recruited me for collating population census data and making a rotation schedule for the use of the sleeping cars after we’ve eaten,” Iggy said, tilting his head and smiling tenderly as he started for the bridge back to the station. “But she’s already gotten matters well in hand, as only she can, so you’ll be able to rest after we’ve eaten.”

And thank the gods for that. He wanted to help, he really did, but he felt hollowed out and half-dead after everything they’d been through today.

Noct was a little bewildered to hear music echoing off the cave-like walls of the station as they drew closer, then what sounded like the dull roar of a couple hundred people talking all at once.

“Laura says Gladio is up near the front,” Iggy said over the noise, directing him farther down as they stepped up onto the platform—which was lit up in almost a romantic kinda way from the wrought-iron lampposts standing tall at regular intervals along the overlook.

They wove their way through the crowd of people, all of whom seemed to be on some kinda mission—carrying tables and chairs toward the back of the train, sweeping up glass and covering broken windows, walking around with clipboards and putting check marks on people’s hands, and who knew what else. They only ended up spotting Gladio because Iggy was so tall and Gladio stood a head above the flurry of activity around him.

“Tell Biggs we gotta pull the train up one more time. Gotta disconnect the cargo car in back, reverse the train up onto the secondary track to get rid of those last spares, then reconnect it to the back,” Gladio ordered a kid, who looked to be about ten years old. The boy nodded once and took off at a run toward the front of the train.

“Hey, guys,” Gladio called out as he spotted them and waved them over. “Good thing we came back here. Everyone was sittin’ around wallowing in misery, so we put ‘em to work. Our new sleeping car’s the one attached to the engine, so if you wanna change, Ig, should be able to in about ten minutes. Might wanna haul Laura away from the dining car back there on the secondary track and have her change too. Think she’s still soaked.”

“She neglected to inform me of that, of course,” Iggy said with a frown. “We’ll go and fetch her now. Will you be joining us?”

“I gotta handle this first. Be there in a few.”

Gladio turned away, but Noct stopped him with a hand on the arm. “Hang on. You gonna tell us what’s going on between you and Aranea? Didn’t think you even knew her.”

Gladio’s lip curled into a scowl. “It was a lay. Nothin’ more,” he grunted. “We were both on opposite sides; we knew it. No talking—just two people havin’ a good time. I didn’t tell her a thing, Noct, I swear.”

“Chill out,” Noct interrupted when he took a breath to explain more. “Not gonna have you beheaded for treason or anything. I believe you.”

“While there are some . . . grey areas to her character, her guiding principles seem to be sound,” Iggy said. “Your timing and conduct has been . . . less than admirable, fraternizing with an enemy agent during a time of war, but given the specifics of the circumstances, you could have done far worse.”

“Yeah,” Gladio grunted before clenching his jaw and looking away. “Anyway, I gotta get back.”

“Very well,” Iggy said with a smug, knowing smile, placing a hand on Noct’s shoulder to guide him back the way they’d come. “Come, Noct, Laura’s cooking up a feast. Perhaps I can pull her away long enough to get changed, for hygiene’s sake, at the very least.”

“You know something I don’t?” Noct asked as they ducked back into the flow of the crowd.

The corners of Ignis’s lips twitched up farther as he responded mysteriously, “We’ll see.”

As they drew closer to the other end of the platform, the strains of that guitar that had been floating on the air over the sound of the crowd grew louder, and the bustling people rushing back and forth gave way to rows of mismatching picnic tables, folding tables, TV trays, camp chairs, fancy dining room chairs, and ripped-out train benches. Every table was packed with food and people—mostly adults making plans for what they would do next or telling stories about their lives back home, but a few sat in silence, staring down at their plates in the kind of horror that Noct had grown well-familiar with by now.

Noct had to stop to avoid a group of kids chasing a dog as they passed the guitar player, who was singing the Ballad of Tidus and Yuna in a mournful tone next to the dining car that seemed to be the center of all the activity.

“This almost feels like some sort of bizarre family reunion,” Iggy noted as he stepped up onto the dining car stairs and studied the scene in disbelief.

“For a funeral, maybe,” Noct muttered, but he guessed it was better than sitting around doing nothing.

And _no one_ in the dining car was sitting around doing nothing. Noct could hear Laura’s voice rising over the sound of pounding feet as person after person rushed past them and out the door, carrying bowls and plates full of food that didn’t even closely resemble cockatrice nuggets.

“Sweat the onions for ‘nother minute, would ya, Jeremiah? Oh, no, hon, tha’ tray goes to Mr. Telmar in the sleeper car. He’s not feelin’ well. Oi! No second ‘elpings til everyone’s got some, yeah?”

It was hard not to get in the way as they came close enough to see her—dancing back and forth between the different counters and stations, stirring soup, making a plate to hand off to a runner, directing a guy at the stove, and summoning a knife to chop more vegetables. Iggy must’ve gotten her attention telepathically, because she suddenly spun around to face them.

“’Ey! There you are! Soon as Paul came back, I was gonna come get you two. ‘Is daugh’er Jocelyn’s out figh’in’ fires wiv some other Tenebraeans, and ‘e wanted to bring some food to ‘em.”

Noct hadn’t really seen Laura in the full light since the . . . five of them had sat down to breakfast or lunch or whatever the hell earlier that day. Despite the bright smile, she looked like crap in the yellow light of the dining car—stringy hair falling out of its clip; dark circles under her eyes; damp, heavy clothes hanging off her body; and through her scorched sleeve, Noct could see that the burn on her arm looked angry and wet.

She looked like Noct felt.

“You’re hurt,” Iggy said sharply, dodging the three people headed for the exit, rushing to her side, and lifting her arm closer to his face. “When did this happen?”

Noct leaned over the counter to get a closer look. The burn that extended from Laura’s right shoulder to her elbow was red, bloody, and black around the edges with charred skin.

“Even I noticed it when you guys got off the train. How’d you miss that, Specs?” Noct asked.

“You’ve been hiding this from me,” he accused, glaring down at her in a way that Noct was all too familiar with.

That sheepish, downcast expression was one way to get Specs to soften up, and his face relaxed a little as she mumbled, “You had enough to be getting on with, I thought. One of the MTs exploded a little too close is all. Give it a couple of days.”

She tried to step back to the grill and stove, gently tugging her arm to pull it free of Iggy’s hand, but he gripped it more tightly.

“Wait. There’s something I want to try.”

She tilted her head, looking up at him with a searching expression for a second, but eventually nodded. Noct couldn’t help but shudder in disgust a little when Iggy leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against the blistered skin, whispering words Noct couldn’t hear.

“Ignis,” Laura gasped as a sparkling green light escaped Iggy’s mouth like a magical exhalation.

It was almost like he’d thrown a potion on her, the way the blisters receded back into her arm, the red reduced to pink, and the blackened skin began to smooth over. By the time he’d finished, only a pink outline of the burn that had taken up most of her bicep remained.

“What’d you do, Specs? Is that the advanced healing you were talking about?” Noct asked, but neither of them was listening. They were doing that thing they did; her eyes widened a fraction, and Iggy shrugged. When she tilted her head as though asking a question, he shook his head. Her eyes narrowed, and Noct thought it was probably Iggy’s turn to look sheepish and apologize, based on her expression.

Iggy turned to Noct, adjusting his glasses delicately before replying, “I’ve been experimenting lately—mixing my two bonds with the Crystal to heal, combining our Eosian energy with Laura’s energy through our bond. With the sources mixed, I’ve found I can hardcast in such a way that doesn’t completely drain me or Laura but would be of the correct resonant frequency to more effectively heal her. The technique clearly isn’t perfect, however, and isn’t without its drawbacks. It appears I still have more tweaking to do.”

“I think I . . . at least got the gist of that,” Noct said, leaning to the side so a girl could grab a bowl of steaming soup that had just been placed on the counter.

“In other words,” Laura said with an exasperated huff, “he’s being a stubborn ass, using his magic in a way that hurts him just so he can heal something that’s going to go away on its own in a couple of days anyway.”

“It’s only a headache, woman. It’s not as though I’m suffering anything truly horrific, like walking around with half my arm cooked to medium-rare.”

“Oh, medium-rare, you say? Are you certain? Perhaps you should’ve summoned the meat thermometer before you started. I _told_ you it would be fine.”

“I would say of the two of us, I am the more qualified to judge. Yes, medium-rare!”

“Seriously, you two,” Noct interrupted. “I swear, you deserve each other, really. I just hope you guys end up spending so much time lecturing each other that you forget to lecture me.”

“Hey, Laura,” Paul greeted, pushing her and Iggy aside as he took over her spot at the stove. “Gladio sent me in here. Told me you needed a break.”

“Yes, we should go and get changed. It’s unhygienic for you to be dressed as you are and cooking,” Iggy said, leading her by the arm to the door. “We’ll be back shortly.”

“Yeah, sure,” Noct said before heading to the end of the counter and plopping on a stool that had just been vacated. After nearly an hour of watching Paul cook in silence, wondering where Prompto was at that very moment, whether he’d ever forgive him for pushing him, Noct heard Gladio’s voice call out from the direction of the front door.

“You in here, Noct?”

“Yeah, back here.”

“Hey,” he said as he shouldered his way through the crowd to reach him. “Laura and Ig just got back. Got us some seats saved outside. You eat yet?”

“Nah.” He _had_ been starving when he’d first come in here, but the idea of food right now was making him feel kinda queasy. He wondered how much he’d have to make a show of eating for Iggy’s sake before he could crash in a bed somewhere.

“Let’s get some bowls for everyone then and go sit down.”

Jumping off the stool and following Gladio to the front counter, Noct began to really take note of the food being served, and the food that _wasn’t_ being served. Not only were there no cockatrice nuggets, there wasn’t a canned pea, terrible cookie, or scoop of mashed potatoes in sight.

“Where’d all this food come from, anyway?” he asked no one in particular.

“Little of here, little of there,” Paul answered without turning around. “Laura figured it’d be too depressing to serve that crap at a time like this. Said the people needed comfort food, so we combined supplies from the city, her stores, and mine to make what ya see here. Gotta say though, some of the stuff she donated is just plain whacky.”

“Yeah,” Gladio chuckled, handing two bowls of chili to Noct before grabbing the other two bowls Paul had just placed on the counter. “She’s full of surprises. Giving us one now, if you wanna come out and listen.”

Laura was standing at the head of the table dressed in her Kingsglaive uniform when Gladio led him to the empty seats on either side of Iggy at the table, and what seemed the entire train platform had gone still and silent to hear her words. Ducking his head so as not to attract attention to himself, Noct sat quickly, staring at his bowl as her voice rang out over the crowd in a clear, authoritative tone that somehow seemed to echo perfectly down the long tunnel.

“Many of you came to Tenebrae seeking solace from the horrors of Altissia that stole away the Oracle and the daylight, only to be greeted with more of the same. But as the Princess of this fair city once said, all hope is not yet lost.

“The road ahead is dark and long, riddled with doubt, fear, and loss, but mark my words: the prophecy _will_ _be fulfilled_. However, the shepherd has left his flock to do so; if you all want to survive the coming darkness, you must trust in each other, you must band together against the evil that awaits you, and you must not wait for someone to guide you by the hand.

“Remember that it is just as vital to safeguard your hearts and minds as it is your lives, as all are just as easily lost in thrall to darkness. Cherish your friends and family, and do not fail to find joy in the everyday, just as we’ve done here today.”

With one last look around their table, she raised her cup of water high above her head calling out in a ringing voice that sounded more like a monarch than he ever could, “To missing friends. To broken families. To fallen loved ones. To the Chosen King of the Dawn. Long may he reign!”

Noct felt like he was gonna melt into the ground when the tunnel was suddenly filled with the roar of hundreds of voices echoing back into his ears, “LONG LIVE THE KING!”

“Uhh,” Noct said as she sat down between him and Iggy. “You didn’t um, have to do that.”

“Don’t worry; I didn’t give away your secret identity, but I didn’t do it for you,” she whispered down at her plate so no one else at the table could hear her.  “Sometimes, the people don’t need the king—the person. Sometimes all they need is that symbol, that spark of hope.”

And that was all well and good, but what was gonna happen if he couldn’t step into the shoes of that symbol when the time came?


	74. Chapter 74

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow gear described is a mod created by NightysWolf. Go check out her incredible work on [Steam](https://steamcommunity.com/profiles/76561198313329787/myworkshopfiles/?appid=637650) or [Tumblr](http://nightyswolf.tumblr.com/post/178725648739/that-prompto-isnt-suffering-alone-in-his) !

“All right, so we should probably exchange passwords now while we’re safe,” Gladio said suddenly, breaking the silence that Noct had been biting down on for the past couple of hours. He’d been trying to tell by the sky alone whether it was night or day, but he’d had a feeling when they’d left Tenebrae that he’d seen his final sunset.

“Passwords?” Noct asked, wondering where the hell this topic of conversation had come from out of the blue.

“Did Prompto not pass along the message that you should exchange passwords to verify each other’s identities back in Pagla?” Iggy asked. When Noct shook his head, he said, “Blast. That means the Chancellor had Prompto’s phone all along . . . and knows he was born in Niflheim.”

“Why would he know that?”

“Dunno, and until we run into either Ardyn or Prompto, we ain’t gonna find out,” Gladio said. “First we gotta make sure everyone is who they say they are.”

Laura snorted. “You think I’d be sitting here calmly like this if one of you was Ardyn in disguise?”

“ _You_ could be Ardyn, for all we know.”

“Actually, she can’t be,” Iggy said, tilting his head. “We’re telepathically bonded, remember? And neither of us needs a password to ascertain your identities.”

“All right then, but if you two get separated—we got ‘clusterfuck’ for Ig and ‘artichoke’ for me. Noct, you take ‘Coleman.’ What about you, Princess? Bet you got a lotta words Ardyn doesn’t know.”

“Eilendil,” she replied immediately. “But if Ignis and I are together, we’re all who we say we are.”

“Got it. Everybody good?”

It fell silent again once they’d all agreed, and Noct ran through everyone’s passwords in his mind a few times. He wasn’t gonna fall for that shit ever again. But once he was sure he wouldn’t forget, that silence settled in his molars again as another shiver ran through him. He needed to say _something_ , just so he could pretend everything was normal for a second.

“It’s freezing,” Noct complained through chattering teeth, curling deeper into his fuzzy gray jacket. He considered putting on his down vest or Crownsguard snow coat for an extra layer, but things hadn’t gotten quite that dire yet.

“Then don’t sit next to the window,” Gladio scoffed from across the aisle, shaking his head as he leaned back and put his feet up on the bench across. Noct eyed the dark green turtleneck and black and silver snow pants that made up the base of his Crownsguard snow gear. Obviously, he wasn’t as immune to the cold as he was always bragging about. Iggy was worse about getting chilled than even Noct and had changed into his gray turtleneck and snow pants as soon as the flurries started dropping from the sky back in Tenebrae.

“Is Prom gonna be okay in the coat you gave him?” Noct asked Laura, ignoring Gladio. “He didn’t have time before we left to get snow gear made.”

Laura turned her head to stare out the train window. Even she’d exchanged her Glaive jacket for something heavier—kinda like a black leather motorcycle jacket that zipped up at an angle, but knowing her and her animal thing, it was probably some kinda futuristic fabric from the planet Zolton or something.

The black sky beyond meant Noct saw more of her face reflected back in the glass than the world outside, but the little patches of light from the train car windows were bright enough to reveal bars of the ground—the snow was getting deeper as they drew closer to Gralea. The dark windows and the deserted seating car were putting Noct on edge, making him feel like they were the last four people in existence on a train to the Underworld. He shuddered in an attempt to shake off the crawling feeling tickling up his spine and waited for Laura to answer.

She frowned. “As long as he’s not out in this weather for too long. Does he have access to the armiger this far from you?”

“He can access his part,” Gladio said. “Only ones that can get at the main part of the armiger from far away are you and Noct.”

“That’s something,” she mumbled, turning to stare out the window again. Iggy reached out hesitantly to put a comforting hand on her leg, and she smiled tenderly, placing her hand over his without tearing her gaze away.

Noct clenched his teeth as he turned his head toward the window, too—even if there was no point in trying to make out anything. He’d had his time with Luna on this eos, short as it was, and there was no point being jealous of what Iggy and Laura had. The last thing he wanted to do was discourage this happy, affectionate Specs with his own shitty feelings. After all, how many times had Iggy done the same for him?

Of course, it was usually Prompto he turned to for a distraction in times like these, but it was his own gods damned fault that Prompto wasn’t here right now.

“What are you staring at?” he asked Laura, figuring he would regret asking, but it was worth it to poke the behemoth if it meant taking his thoughts off his losses.

Her eyebrows shot up as their eyes met. “You mean you can’t see that?”

“No, they can’t,” Iggy said, tilting his head and squinting at the dark glass. “I’ve been watching it through your eyes for some time now.”

“It’s not some kinda monster or terrible omen or something, is it?” Gladio asked warily.

She chuckled, shaking her head as she stood and strolled to the end of the car. “No. Close your eyes.”

Iggy, of course, immediately closed his eyes without hesitation, and after Gladio raised a suspicious eyebrow at her, followed suit. Noct twisted in his seat, the green fake leather squeaking in protest as he gave her a questioning look.

“Go on! It helps your eyes adjust to the dark.”

He rolled them at her before obeying. For as much as she claimed to despise the games immortals played, she sure seemed to enjoy having fun in the face of their ignorance, but he guessed the stakes were never as high with her when she acted like this as it was with the gods and Old Kings.

“Just flipping off the light switch,” she warned as he heard a clicking sound over the rhythmic beating of the wheels against the tracks. “Just keep your eyes closed for a minute.”

The way his hearing heightened as he sat there in the dark with his eyes closed was kind of amazing. Noct hadn’t noticed her footsteps as she’d gone to turn the light out, but he could hear each foot as it fell softly on the textured rubber flooring and the whoosh of pleather as she took her spot next to Iggy again.   

“I wish we had time to stop,” she said quietly. “There’s a magic in snow in the wilderness that you can’t get in the city.”

“I hate snow,” Noct said. “It’s pretty for like five seconds before it turns into black mush—and way too cold. Good thing it hardly ever snowed in Insomnia. Guess it was because of the Wall trapping all that heat in.”

“I suspect that had more to do with the asphalt holding the heat in and turning the city into a giant heat sink,” Iggy said. “Remember, the Wall allowed precipitation in, so it likely let the heat back out.”

“So how’s snow different in the wilderness?” Gladio asked.

Laura’s voice was hushed and awed as she answered, “It stays clean, for one thing, and it gets so quiet. The snow acts like a blanket on the ground that muffles all the sounds. You can look up into the sky, and the fat flakes catch in your hair and eyelashes like glittering diamonds. Plus there’s all the fun things you can do in the snow, like building snowmen, making snow angels, ice skating, wearing scarves, hot chocolate . . . ooh! Mini marshmallows! And oh! You boys might appreciate this: I’ve heard most human men like peeing their names in the snow.”

“I’m certain I must have misheard you. Could you run that by me a wee bit slower?” Iggy asked, and Noct smirked, blowing out a quick breath through his nose. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that, Noct.”

“You could do that back in Insomnia if you were quick enough,” Noct said with a grin.

“Mmm hmm, best part about the snow if you ask me,” Gladio chuckled. “We tried building a snowman really quick once, but it was a mess and still freezing cold. Didn’t try again after that.”

“But the cold is magical too, don’t you see? I doubt you guys have Christmas in this universe, but surely you must have _some_ sort of winter holiday.”

“Yeah, Hootd!” Noct said with a fond smile of remembrance.

“Come again?”

“Hootd, as in Halfway Out of the Dark,” Iggy said. “The longest night of winter before they begin to grow shorter again. Historically, families would gather for a meal and hold vigil until the new day—covering their houses in bright lights and singing songs or holding raucous parties all night to ward off the daemons. Though the practice is mostly outdated in modern-day Insomnia we’ve kept a few elements, such as the exchange of wrapped gifts, decorating our dwellings, and having a family meal.”

“Yes, exactly! Everyone comes together in the cold and the dark to ward it off. The colors get richer and brighter when you decorate your houses and wrap beautiful gifts. Loved ones cuddle on the couch in front of the fire to get warm; everything glows. The world becomes that much kinder to compensate. Peace on Eos, goodwill toward men, that sort of thing.”

“Huh, never really thought of it that way,” Gladio mused.

They were all silent for a while after that as they sat in the dark with their eyes closed—probably remembering all the Hootd celebrations they’d had. Back when he was a kid and living in the Citadel, Noct had always liked Hootd season because his dad would set aside one entire day to spend with him and Iggy—no one else. The _one_ morning of the year he had no problems getting up early—he used to feel like he was gonna explode when Iggy would make him wait fidgeting on the edge of his bed until precisely seven o’clock in the morning before Noct would drag him down the three flights of stairs and down the hall to his dad’s apartments. They’d spend the entire day together, just the three of them—eating way too many pancakes, opening presents under the tree, taking a trip to the zoo or the theater for a private show, and listening to stories about ‘the old days’ until he and Iggy couldn’t hold their eyes open any longer.

Of course, things changed a lot as he got older and his dad grew more and more disappointed in him, but then Hootd had become all about him, Iggy, and Prompto hanging out at his apartment all night, with Gladio stopping by for an hour or so before he went to his dad’s celebration.

At least he had those memories to look back on.

“All right. I think it’s been long enough. Open your eyes,” Laura said in a soft voice, full of life. How come he felt older than a seven-thousand-year-old woman these days?

After hesitating for a moment, deciding whether to allow the train to gently rock him to sleep or obey her instruction, he chose to open his eyes and look out the frost-lined window.

“Damn,” Gladio murmured.

Iggy sucked in a long breath through his nose before letting it out slowly. “It’s quite another matter to see it from one’s own eyes,” he breathed.

“I should take you to Hoth tonight,” Laura said into the window, fogging up the frosted glass with her breath. “I’ve got that universe on the brain after meeting Biggs and Wedge. If you go at the right time, all three of its moons are in the sky at once, and it’s almost as bright as daylight out—reflecting the entire world in pink and purple. And the ice falls are _gorgeous_.”

“Mmm, so long as you make it warmer than here, it sounds lovely.”

The scene passing by them did little to shake that feeling of isolation, but instead of taking the train to the dark Underworld, they were now traveling through Shiva’s paradise—a sparkling blue-white blanket covering everything from the mountains to the treetops to the ground. He could see wisps of powdery snow curling off the jagged peaks in the dim, hazy light the moon gave off now, and a part of him mourned the fact that the air was probably too thick with scourge here to see the stars from now on.

He doubted he would ever see them again in this life.

“Cool,” he said with a smirk in an attempt to shake off his morbid thoughts, but it was hard work.

Iggy let out a little snort. “Careful, Highness, or your face will freeze like that.”

“Looks like my face isn’t the only thing in danger of freezing,” Noct retorted, nodding down at where Iggy was curling and uncurling his wrists in his lap.

Laura’s eyes snapped to Iggy’s hands before she grabbed one with a huff and pulled it into her lap, rubbing rough circles into his wrist and the muscle at the base of his thumb with an air of experience—like she’d done it a thousand times before.

“I’m fine,” Iggy said unconvincingly, and Noct noticed that he didn’t even attempt to pull his hand away as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

“Hands are _still_ cramping—you’re too cold, and you’re not getting enough fluids,” Laura tutted. “You think it’s a simple matter to use all the magic you did back in Tenebrae? And then almost drowning. You should drink some hot tea.”

“Tea’s a diuretic; it would do little to hydrate me.”

“Hot cocoa, apple cider, the blood of the undead—I don’t care.”

Iggy let out a sigh. “Not only were we unable to procure Ulwaat berries from Tenebrae due to the catastrophe, I also neglected to ask about apples from Eusciello. The region is supposed to be famous for them.”

“I’ve got thousands of apples from so many different planets, and we can grow those berries when we get back to Lucis,” she said, but then her voice grew softer. “Though we should try to raid a cafeteria or something while we’re in Zegnautus—collect a few samples to preserve of your home planet. I collected what I could from Tenebrae these past few days, and I’ve got Aranea spreading the word to send any additional samples to Lestallum for me . . . if anyone makes it over that way.”

“Did you get any of the sylleblossoms?” Noct asked, hoping it wasn’t just food she was trying to save.

To his relief, she nodded. “Ever since Altissia, I’ve been collecting what I can of food and plants. Ignis has Sania working with the hunters to get a complete seed catalog of Lucis as well.”

“Sounds like between you, Aranea, Claustra, and Sania—should be able to save most of the plant species,” Gladio noted. “Probably still gonna lose some though.”

“There may be something I can do when the long night is over,” Laura said quietly. “We’ll see.”

“Do you think it’s started everywhere in the world like it has here?” Noct asked.

Laura shook her head. “They still had some daylight left in Tenebrae.”

“And the last reports I received from Sania indicated there was still several hours of it in Lucis,” Iggy added.

“So why . . .?” Noct began, but Laura jumped in to explain.

“Think of it like pollution from a factory. They’re making all those MTs here. The regression of daylight from the particles in the air is bound to be uneven just as pollution is.”

“Though Lucis has Ravatogh, so we aren’t exactly particle-free,” Iggy said.

“I just hope it lasts longer now that everyone isn’t out hunting daemons anymore,” Noct sighed.

Some days, he couldn’t believe that it had come to this—that they were even _discussing_ stuff like this. The first twenty years of his life, he’d never seen a daemon, except for the one that had attacked him as a kid. Though part of him knew that the world was always destined to go this way, the deepest part of his heart would sometimes wonder if his dad wouldn’t’ve done a better job had he still been alive, if there’d still be daylight.

But he was doing his best—they all were.

“It’s getting colder in here,” Gladio said, shivering and standing to summon his fluffy black snow jacket, with its fur-trimmed hood and silver skull insignia on the chest. As though this were some kinda signal, [Iggy](https://66.media.tumblr.com/f44b084c868861e14a5ac48566916a56/tumblr_pg2ou5ePqS1tq8igqo10_1280.jpg) stood to summon his as well, and Noct decided he may as well put on his downy khaki-colored vest.

“We must be approaching the Glacian’s cadaver,” Iggy replied as he zipped his jacket up and sat back down next to Laura.

“Won’t be a blessing if all we got’s a body.”

“If the Frostbearer can project her essence upon this terrain, she may yet be able to grant Noct her power. If not, let us hope we pass through the gorge without incident.”

Laura made a face. “Oh, did you have to? ‘Hope we pass without incident.’ That’s almost as bad as, ‘nothing can possibly go wrong.’ Now something’s certain to happen.”

“Doesn’t matter if something happens in the gorge or not. It’s what’s after the gorge I’m worried about,” Gladio said, rubbing a fist through the frost on his window and looking out.

“Given our experience with the gods, I must say that I’m quite concerned enough about the gorge for now,” Iggy replied.

Laura leaned over, pushing Iggy forward a little as she untucked his hood from his collar. “Ugh, more skulls,” she muttered as she caught sight of the insignia on his chest. “At least that Lucian crest makes more sense now.”

Not that his family crest making sense was any comfort to him. The image only solidified the fact that Lucian kings were born to die, but at least the halo and wing of Eos that pointed to his line’s divinity was explained. And the black—no one had ever told him that the Crystal had once been all blue. Ardyn touching it with all that scourge inside him must’ve forced it to react and protect itself, but why would Somnus choose those symbols as reminders and then allow everyone to forget Ardyn anyway? He couldn’t decide if he was tempted to keep those reminders around or if he’d rather erase all evidence of this mess.

He guessed, as the last of his line, it didn’t really matter either way.

He sat in silence and the dark for another hour or so, watching the diamond world roll past them and silently wondering what would happen to Lucis after he was gone. No doubt Iggy, Gladio, _Prompto_ , and even Laura would get things stabilized—even if Iggy and Laura ended up in Tenebrae. Maybe the entire world would become a democracy without the royal lines, or maybe a new monarchy would rise from this with Gladio and Iggy as kings—if they wanted. He’d like that.

The pitch of the train’s wheels raised as they left the muted, snowy ground and transitioned to the suspended bridge, and Noct found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the window as he held his breath and willed them to pass by the Glacian without anything happening.

But of course, gods damnit, they’d been on the bridge over the Ghorovas Rift for only like, a couple of minutes when the momentum of the train slowing pulled him forward in the seat, the wheels grinding and squealing on the tracks underneath them.

“Nice going, Igs,” Gladio said sarcastically as he stood and headed for the door. “I wonder what it could be this time. Hope it’s just a quick snow shoveling job.”

“Indeed,” Iggy agreed.

“Let’s just take a look,” Noct muttered on a sigh as he followed.

But damnit, it wasn’t just the bitter cold seeping through his layers and his gloves; the wind whipped violently across the high bridge, stealing his breath and body heat away as he wrapped his arms around himself. As he squinted into the whitewashed air, attempting to see past his own clouds of breath, he thought he could just make out the giant outline of a jaw, lips, and nose just over the side of the bridge.

“I think I can see her,” Noct said through clenched, chattering teeth.

“Yes, that’s her,” Laura said with interest. “So, this is who everyone on the fracking planet keeps mistaking me for.”

“Yeah, sorry, Princess, but she does kinda look like when you came back to Altissia looking all freaky.”

“Yeah,” Noct agreed, “with the ears and the skin.”

They shuffled closer to the metal guardrail, peering as far out as they could into the dark in an attempt to catch sight of the rest of Shiva’s corpse lying prone over the tundra wasteland.

“A bit, I suppose,” Laura admitted with a frown, stepping closer to Iggy’s side, “but I don’t think I’m quite that blue. And I tend to wear more clothing, on average.”

Gladio chuckled and elbowed Iggy’s arm. “Much to Iggy’s dismay.”

“Remember that revenge is a dish best served cold, Gladio,” Iggy replied irritably.

Noct closed his eyes and sighed as that whisper of breath, like the last release when someone dies, sounded from behind them. They should’ve known this had been a trap from the second the train stopped here, of all places. Turning to Laura for confirmation, he watched her tilt her head for a second before opening her eyes. She seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

“Yes, Ardyn’s here . . . in addition to those daemons,” she said in a hard voice, nodding behind him, and he turned to spot six snagas and three wraiths growing up from a pool of the very disease that had turned them.

He wondered for a fleeting moment who’d they’d been in life. Bus drivers? Middle management? Fast food workers? Niflian nobility? Whatever they’d been, they were stopping them from getting the train free and endangering his family, endangering Prompto.

“Yeah, that wasn’t a trap or anything,” Gladio grumbled as he summoned the sword Laura had given him.

Noct took a few steps forward, picking up the pace as he drew closer. “Let’s clean up out here, warm up in there.”

From behind him, Noct could hear the tinkling sound of Iggy summoning his daggers as he called out, “You three have the swords for the wraiths; I have the daggers for the snagas. I suggest we split them.”

“Those aren’t alvs,” Laura argued. “You’ll still need some help with six of them. Go ahead and do your thing, and I’ll help once I take care of this wraith.”

Pushing the chatter out of his mind, Noct danced to the side, spinning to duck a snaga heading toward him before disappearing with a _whoosh-clang_ to jam his blade into the side of the wraith he’d chosen. Yanking his sword free of the wraith’s insubstantial flesh, he shook off the miasma just as it lunged at him, and before he could phase, its dead, bony hands grasped his neck with a surprising amount of strength. The sharp points of its finger joints dug into his neck, and he could feel his magic being drained from the breath the creature was choking off as he scrabbled at its arms and head with his free hand and sword.

Just as the world was beginning to spin, a flash of silver passed in front of his vision, falling hard on the wraith’s arm and breaking it in half.

“Gladio,” Noct choked.

Gladio smirked and said, “Yeah, you can thank me later. Get back in the game.”

Just as he was about to turn back to his recovering wraith, something hit him in the back, and he spun to face the threat as the magic surged in him.

“Sorry, I couldn’t enchant that necklace for the other curatives,” Laura said, lowering her hand as she flipped a falchion in her other hand and stabbed backwards into a snaga. “Back to it!” she said with a cheeky smile, and danced away.

Deciding to take a page from Laura’s, and now Iggy’s, book, Noct kept his feet moving, dancing and weaving in a circle around the wraith and warp-striking each time it lunged for him.

But then he remembered: he could be doing more damage if he had some help.

“Hey, Specs, you got anything for me?”

“Certainly,” he called out happily, not pausing in his twirl around a snaga as he broke a flask of frost in one hand. “This ought to give you an edge—break the ice, if you will.”

He tossed the icy cloud at Noct with a smirk, and Noct reached out to catch it between his hands, the chill of it practically searing his fingers through his gloves. Seriously? It was freezing out here, and the _best_ element to defeat this thing was _ice_? He gritted his teeth as he gripped his sword, the joints in his hands aching as he felt his legs getting heavy with the cold. Damnit, he had to keep moving.

“Cool, thanks Ig!” he managed to call back as he dodged another swipe of his wraith, but Iggy had already danced away next to Laura to take down a snaga together.

His hands and blades imbued with ice, he found that each parry and each push into the wraith’s crackling flesh left more visible slashes in its dark death shrouds, and he couldn’t help but huff a deep, burning breath of relief when it melted into a pool of scourge at his feet.

“Aaand I’m spent,” Noct let out on a sigh, doing his best to ignore the pain building in his lower gums from breathing in the cold air. He couldn’t wait to get back on that train and get the hell out of this creepy freezing place—as soon as he tossed a fire flask at the icicles that had built up at the front of the train. Maybe afterwards, Iggy and Laura could make them some of that hot chocolate when they got back inside.

He should’ve known that a couple of low-rate daemons wouldn’t be enough for Ardyn. As they turned toward the front of the train, a pool of black bled into existence in the pristine snow in front of them—starting no larger than a pizza and growing . . . faster and faster until it was as big around as Noct’s favorite fishing hole back in the Citadel’s gardens.

“This should be fun,” Gladio muttered under his breath.

With a guttural roar that vibrated the ice under his boots, the daemon that ripped its way into existence looked more like a mechanical creature to Noct than organic—like a spider-cockroach-praying-mantis made of metallic bones, armored plates, and jagged edges.

“Yeah, real fun,” Noct muttered back as the daemon gathered its scourge to take on solid form, its yellow eyes glowing eerily in the dark and piercing the haze of blowing snow as it stared them down. “What the hell is that thing?”  

“A deathclaw—weak to shields, fire and light,” Iggy said in a rush. “We must take care; this is a fearsome foe, capable of killing us with one—”

Luckily, Noct got the gist of what he was gonna say, because Iggy hadn’t had the chance to finish as the thing reared high, extending its six segmented claws to the sky and leapt for them.

“Noct!” he could hear Iggy yell, but any kind of heroic action on his part or attempt to maneuver out of the way on his own was cut off when Noct’s sight was blacked out by the creature’s dark, segmented underbelly.

The deathclaw’s hard scales smacked against his head, and he dropped to his knees, fighting the urge to be sick as the world spun around him. Noct felt another smack on the back of his neck, oddly clearing his head and vision of the red haze that had threatened to overtake him. The necklace. Damn—did she have to enchant it to throw those potions so hard at his head? Maybe she’d done it on purpose.

“I’m all right,” he called out, jumping to his feet and thrusting his sword up into the creature’s underbelly before rolling out from underneath its piercing feet. “Gladio, do your thing,” he called out, eager to put this thing in the ground.

“Any last words?” Gladio growled cockily, swinging his sword high over his head, plunging it into the icy ground, and sending out waves of impulsive shocks that knocked the creature back several paces.

“You know, you always say that,” Laura teased as the deathclaw spun to face her, and she jumped lightly over its massive, whipping tail before continuing, “but then you fail to finish it off . . . kinda the point of words like that.”

“It’ll happen one of these days,” he quipped as he hacked one of the deathclaw’s legs off, “and it’s gonna be kickass when it does.”

Specs leapt high into the air, dismissing his blades, summoning his radiant lance, and forcing the blade deep into the back of the daemon’s head as he landed with a grunt of effort.

As it reared up again, Laura yelled, “Noct, it’s going for you!”

She hadn’t had to say anything because he’d been ready for it this time, parrying the claws and thrusting right into its face the second it landed.

“Pro . . . no. Specs, could use a little help here,” Noct called as he used his momentum to slide under the creature’s belly and slice a slit up its underside.

 Prompto.

 Damnit, no. Focus.

“Noct!” Ignis shouted, this time throwing him a blazing ball of fire.

Iggy’s flames danced around his wrists, lending extra power to his strikes and sending tingling warmth into his frigid fingers. The deathclaw raised three of its namesake into the air to take a swipe at him, but Noct spun to the side and let the world go in a haze of blue, watching with almost detached interest as the insubstantial armor passed through his body that was no longer completely on the physical plane.

As he stood still in this veiled world, a weird, eerie feeling prickled at his instinct—watching Gladio, Iggy, and Laura work together. Was this what it felt like to be a King of Old—watching from the shadows as the ones he loved put their lives on the line? It didn’t seem fair . . . all he had to do was sacrifice his life when the time came—probably when they arrived in Gralea. It was almost like seeing the future, in a way—watching the three of them work without him as they slashed viciously at the creature’s armor, sending streams of miasma squirting in the air before they reduced to vapor.

They’d be okay without him, but he hoped they’d at least miss him when he was gone. At the very least, he’d leave the world a better place for them to live, and he wouldn’t have to sit back and watch as this fucked up destiny of his continued to tear chunks off all of them. This was in his hands.

Whatever they’d just done to this daemon must’ve really pissed it off, because those claws that had been swiping through his phased body suddenly detached, forming a line across the entire battle area and shooting hot, red laser lines that melted the ice and snow just as Noct had brought himself back fully into the world. He tried to phase again, but those vicious crimson beams cut through into his astral plane and burned him anyway, searing blistering stripes across his skin and forcing him back into the world with a shocked and pained gasp.

Another crack on the back of the head made him grunt with pain, even as the sensation sent streams of relief down his veins. He was definitely gonna have to talk to her about that.

“Gladio’s down, Noct!” Iggy cried out as he whirled to the side, narrowly escaping the wall of beams as the claws returned to the creature. “We’ll keep it occupied, but you must get to him quickly!”

Noct pressed himself up against the train as the claws passed, casting his eyes around the battle area in a panic, and there—Gladio was lying sprawled out in the snow next to the train, a trickle of blood dripping down the side of his face and his eyes closed.

Six, that image was just so wrong—his brother, his comrade, so full of life lying dead like that. Gladio had always been the one kicking his ass to do more, be more, right alongside Iggy. The image of Iggy, pale and still next to that river flashed over his sight—followed by Prompto’s eyes wide with terror as he fell, but fuck no. Prompto and Iggy were both alive, damnit, and no one needed him more in this world than Gladio right now. Focus. The daemon was standing between all of them and Gladio’s body, sending out those rows of laser claws he couldn’t phase through over and over and over; how could he get to him in time?

He needed to use his resources, delegate, lead.

“Laura, you can cast Crystal fire, right? And Iggy, the sagefire thing?”

“Yes,” Iggy answered as he twisted away from a swiping claw, hurling a fire-imbued dagger at the daemon’s more delicate midsection.

“Then draw it toward the guardrails and light it up.”

He waited impatiently off to the sidelines, grappling with the desire to throw himself into the fight or risk his life as Gladio’s last seconds slid through his hands. He couldn’t let him down, no matter what . . . the one time he could prove to Gladio that he had what it took to be a king, to be his King.

He did what he could from a distance, tossing a few daggers and summoning them back as he watched Iggy and Laura work together. Obviously, the telepathy thing was a huge advantage in the field, allowing them to work together without having to take the time to communicate, but it was more than that. It was almost . . . effortless—the give and take, attack and cover, the way they protected each other—like they were really partners.

But he shifted his attention to Gladio the second the fire erupted from Iggy’s and Laura’s hands, sneaking behind the deathclaw and summoning a phoenix down. He closed his eyes, reaching in deep for that gold power he now knew was Eos’s gift of Life.

No one really knew how this worked, but Gladio probably only had seconds left before Laura had to start holding him there. As he cracked the flask over Gladio’s chest, his own power coalesced with a burst of phoenix fire to dance around his head just as it had with Iggy. Instead of quietly gasping as Iggy had, however, Gladio bolted upright, almost smacking him in the face and knocking him to the ground. Without a word, Gladio bared his teeth as the fire flickered in his brown eyes, opened his mouth wide, and let loose an ear-shattering bellow that sent Noct falling back on his ass in shock.

Did he do it wrong? Had Noct hurt him somehow?

Gladio turned to Noct with wild eyes. “Fuck yeah! Let’s go!” he roared, jumping to his feet and yanking Noct up with a hand.

“Sorry, babe!” Laura said, strolling up with a cocky smile. “You slept through all the action.” But her face fell as she stepped up to Gladio and put a tentative hand on his chest. He shuddered and closed his eyes as she asked, “Are you all right?”

Gladio stepped back from her hand and looked over at Noct, staring down at him with a serious expression. He put a heavy hand on Noct’s shoulder as he said in a thick voice, “Yeah, I am. Thanks.”

“Figured Iggy and Laura’d miss having a fellow adult around,” Noct said with a shrug and a crooked smile. “Glad you’re okay.”

“’Okay’ being a relative term,” Iggy said, glaring up at the seating car. “End of the battle like this? You’re in for a rough night.”

Noct smirked over at Gladio in remembrance.  

“Better than the alternative,” Gladio quoted before raising an eyebrow at Laura. “I don’t suppose—”

“And you’d better stop there while it’s your choice to do so,” Iggy cut in. “I’d hate to run an experiment on the effects of two phoenix downs back to back on a friend.”

“And while all this quipping is great fun, remember we have an old friend waiting for us,” Laura said. She looked up at Iggy, tilting her head, and he wordlessly summoned his hip pack and began strapping it to her as she pulled a large, dark emerald from her Pocket.

“Hey, buddy! Get in here!” Prompto yelled from inside the train.

“Ignore that; it’s Ardyn fucking with you,” Laura said in a venomous tone as Noct and Gladio whipped their heads towards the car. “Thanks, love,” she added in a whisper before securing the stone in the pack.

“I realize I may not be getting any older in here, but I do grow tired of waiting,” Ardyn called out impatiently.

“Asshole,” Laura muttered under her breath. “I wonder where the hell he even came from.”

“He does seem able to simply appear from nowhere,” Iggy said in a clipped tone, summoning his daggers and handing one to Gladio, who took it cautiously with a bemused expression.

“You wanna explain why you’re handing me this?”

“Not while we have eavesdroppers, not really,” Laura replied.

Noct clenched his fists and began striding swiftly toward the door. “Let’s go get Prompto back,” he growled, only glancing briefly behind him to make sure the others were following as he flung himself up the stairs.

“Where’s Prompto, you bastard?!” Noct roared as he shoved the half-frozen door to the seating section aside, but a blast of thick, frosty wind that numbed his face and blew into his eyes made him stagger back. “What the hell?”

Just there—at the other end of the car through the thick haze making his eyes tear up, he could barely make out the silhouette of Ardyn leaning casually against one of the seats, the tails of his coat whipping in the gale.

“Stop! Stop damnit!” he screamed.  He was so gods damn tired of playing these stupid theatrical games. “Where is he?! Where’s Prompto?”

“Oh! Hello there!” he greeted with a cheery wave. “My, but this is quite the family reunion with the three of us here! And it seems as though one more is on her way.”

“Be careful, Ardyn; you were wrong once before, and look what it got you,” Laura warned from behind him.

Ardyn’s golden eyes flickered to a point just beyond his head before turning back to Noct, but as much as he wanted to remain standing in this asshole’s presence, the cold whipping down his lungs was keeping him from drawing in a full breath. As he dropped to all fours without even feeling the vibration that should’ve been radiating up his arms. Still crawling toward Ardyn, he realized he had no idea what he was gonna do when he got there . . . maybe wring his neck with his icy hands, even if it took his last breath.

“Look at you,” Ardyn sneered, “a king on his knees while even his subjects stand tall behind him. Who would you even be without your little friends?”

Two Glaive boots appeared by Noct’s head, and he heard Laura say, “Enough games, just say what you came to say and get the hell out of here.”

Ardyn rolled his head to the side, letting his lips slide up into a slow, flirtatious smirk. “At least I know who you’re not. That’s a coldness that can only be hers.”

“Yeah,” Laura snapped back impatiently, pointing to the door at the opposite end of the car, “hers, I’m betting.”

Noct took a deep breath from the collar of his jacket before looking up to see a shadow approaching from behind Ardyn, seemingly unaffected by the frost and frigid wind just like the other immortals on the train—and Iggy and Gladio holding Laura’s daggers. There was something familiar about the way the figure held her body completely still with each step, the downcast eyes—Gentiana.

“Ahh,” Ardyn sighed. In a low, warm voice, he said, “Such a beautiful face you wore the day you died."

Without so much as raising her eyes as she passed, Gentiana pressed a finger to her lips and touched it lightly to his, a slight, sassy smile quirking her mouth.

Fractals of white spread over Ardyn instantly, freezing his last word on his lips as he grew rigid.

“Well, that couldn’t have been what he came here to say,” Laura muttered. “Say, d’ya mind turning up the A/C a bit? I’m having trouble these days telling if you’re an ally or an enemy, but either way, you’re starting to tread on thin ice with the humans in here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the "Ahh, the face you wore the day you—" I have no idea why they felt English speakers shouldn't know what this line said, but every other translation seems to have decided it was okay for him to say "died." I went ahead and used a translation of the Japanese for that line.


	75. Chapter 75

A heavy weight settled around Noct’s shoulders as the sleeves of his snow jacket flopped in his peripheral vision, but the added insulation did pretty much nothing to protect him against Gentiana’s frigid blizzard. But he wasn’t about to reject Laura’s offering as he shuddered there on all fours before a Messenger who may or may not have been about to attack Iggy. He leaned up a little on his knees to thrust his shaking arms into the coat.

Gritting his teeth as hard as he could against the burning chill, he raised his head when a pair of black open-toed, high-heeled boots stopped underneath his eyes

“Let it now be done,” Gentiana whispered fiercely, her voice somehow managing to tickle the hairs in Noct’s numb ears over the gale, “as promised to the Oracle.”

As usual, he had no idea what the hell what she was talking about—what the ‘it’ was that was supposed to be done. Seriously, he’d love for nothing more than to stand up and demand she start giving them _some_ kind of answer to _something_ in straight sentences that made sense for once.

But all he could do was sit on his knees with his hands wrapped around his biceps as Gentiana raised her eyes to the grimy train ceiling and spread her arms wide. He had to look away for a second as the frosty blue light that enveloped her body threatened to sear his eyeballs, his gaze not returning to her glowing body until her bare, powder-blue toes touched the rubber floor. The air grew immediately quiet and still, and for a second, Noct thought he’d been transported back into that frozen world that Ardyn had put him in.

She was just as surreal in person as Laura had been when she’d returned to Altissa—with pointed ears, a faraway expression, and an otherworldly light playing on her nearly naked body. But Laura had been right—Shiva was a much more dramatic blue than she’d been, and her glowing headdress of icicles and mythril chains combined with her gravity-defying braids and sashes might’ve made him awestruck had these been different circumstances.

But Laura broke the spell when she muttered, “Well, I guess that’s what ‘reveal themselves to the chosen’ means—literally that they reveal themselves to the Chosen . . . King.”

“Gentiana, it’s you. You’re the Glacian,” he said, pushing himself up on his trembling legs and stumbling to place himself between Shiva and Ignis just as Gladio had also stepped over to block Ignis’s body. Noct was interested in why Laura hadn’t made a move to protect Iggy, choosing instead to stare Shiva down, when Iggy tutted from behind them all.

“Honestly, don’t you think you’re overdoing it a bit? She hasn’t made a move toward me in all the time we’ve known her.”

“She’s known about us since Titan,” Laura said, not tearing her eyes away from Shiva’s. “Referred to Ignis as ‘the Mate.’ I’d say Shiva, at least, has reformed her prejudiced ways, but what of the others?”

Shiva lowered her eyes to the floor, reminding Noct of the more human Messenger that had been following them since the beginning of this trip. “The High Messenger decrees that Pitioss is the path to the secret shame of the Six. They see the error of their ways and seek penitence through service to mortals. The Frostbearer holds no ill will to the Fire or the Queen.”

“You may want to have a word with Leviathan, then,” Iggy said dryly.

Noct turned to glare at Shiva, nodding emphatically. Because while she might have thought it was cute to reveal that a god had been following them around this whole time while revealing nothing about Ardyn or the threat he posed to Luna, her sworn charge, Noct didn’t find a single thing cute, funny, or even incredible about this. He might’ve been willing to do what needed to be done to save the world, but he was done with fate and whoever fucking with his life to manipulate him into doing it.

And he was done with his friends suffering because of it.

“I wanna make it clear that everyone I travel with is under my protection. Leviathan risks the covenants between the gods and the King by threatening my friends.” Doing his best not to tremble with the cold, he stood tall and lowered his head threateningly at the divine entity gazing serenely back at him. “You mess with them, you mess with me, too.”

With a long, slow blink, she answered, “The Draconian communes with the Tidemother. The Fire and Queen are in no danger from the gods’ wrath. The Anathema is forgiven for going forth in the Frostbearer’s name.”

“Well, gee, thanks for the heads up,” Laura snapped. “And the Anathema has been paying for the Frostbearer’s sins lately, so the Anathema figured lending her name was the least she could do. But what about you? Are you simply hiding your disdain from us?”

“The Frostbearer’s love for mortals springs from her love for the Pyreburner. The gods’ protection extends to all creatures here below—even to the mortals created in their image. They are feeble creatures leading fragile lives and clinging to foolish fancies. The Frostbearer scorns these visions of hope, which melt like snow in the sun’s light—”

“And then Ifrit gave Solheim fire, you two kids fell in love, and you changed your mind, we know,” Gladio said with a frown. “Most of us read the Cosmogony. Get to the good shit. You already said you regret turning on Eos, and I get that. Why’d you turn on Ifrit when he backed her up?”

Shiva closed her eyes and shook her head, the mythril chains around her neck clinking with the movement. “The Six have safeguarded this star since time immemorial—each of a different mind, but united by this common purpose. The gods’ protection extends to all creatures here below—even to the mortals who betrayed the Mother with the tools, the knowledge, given them by the Pyreburner. In the days that follow the war, while the Six are still asleep, the Pyreburner is sought by a man who draws him away from the Light. His peril is sensed by the Frostbearer. She rushes to his aid, only to be felled by the foreign hordes.”

“Okay, so he was threatening humanity and you _had_ to step in,” Laura said, tilting her head in thought, “but you died protecting him later.”

“When the smoke of war clears, the world of man is in ruins, their mother star left scarred for time eternal with wounds and blight. The plague passes to mortal and divine alike, unchecked by any power—save that of the Blessed Star of Life and Light found in one man of the Mother’s line.”

“So you entrusted Eos’s womb to the line of Caelum to protect, then gifted them with the Ring to communicate with the Crystal and begin an ancestral memory,” Iggy said thoughtfully. “Perhaps implied the Chancellor would become King of a new kingdom if he healed the blight.”

When Shiva lowered her head and didn’t answer, Laura spoke. “No. It’s more than that, isn’t it? Because Lunafreya didn’t actually heal the scourge, did she? Otherwise she would have ended up like Ardyn.”

“Luna was NOTHING like that bastard,” Noct growled, taking a step toward Laura, but she held a hand out, her face soft and sympathetic.

“I know that. But Ardyn _embodies_ the scourge.” She turned back to Shiva. “While Luna probably only set it dormant, he eradicated it. You had him collecting it, didn’t you? In him. How stupid could you be?”

“Wearied from war, the Six seek solace in slumber. The Healer, so close to his goal, is swayed by his power. Feeding on the dusk and embracing the darkness, he spurns the Dawn, effecting a life untouched by Time. The Messengers help to found the kingdom of light in the Mother’s name and gift the Kingdom of Lucis with the tongues of Terra, her beloved homeland. Messengers plead the Mystic to subdue the Accursed until such time as the Chosen King can make his rest permanent, for now the Stone is no match for both the Blight and the Accursed.”

“Oh, frack,” Laura cursed, her eyes going wide. “Ardyn said the bloodlines were watered down with each new generation. Eos’s power grew weaker in each king as the years went by.”

“And with each King’s death, another Lucii in the Crystal is collected, building the Power of Eos,” Iggy said. His voice grew cold as he continued, “Noct is merely the last you need for it to be strong enough to defeat the Chancellor and heal the blight.”

“You mean this whole Chosen King shit was just down to _math_?” Gladio asked, his voice cracking a little on the last word.

“It’s more than the Caelum lines. Remember what Leviathan said?” Laura asked.

“The heirs of Eos are nearly gathered for the cleansing,” the Glacian responded, “when the King of Light will house the soul of the star.”

“But what does that mean?” Gladio demanded.

But Noct didn’t need to hear the answer to _this_ question.

“It means I have to die,” he said with finality.

The reasons why he had to do this didn’t really matter anymore, what the hell housing the soul of a star would even mean. It didn’t even really matter whose fault it had been—either Ardyn, Solheim, or the Six. The simple fact was that he had to do it, or the people, _his_ people would all die. Every single moron who had stood by their car in the middle of nowhere instead of walking to the road to get a lift into town for a repair kit, every cat that refused to eat raw fish, every person that needed their help over these past months—Cindy, Cid, Takka, Vyv, Monica, Dustin, Iris, Talcott, Sania, Navyth, Aranea, Coctura, that asshole Dino, Holly, Dave, Kimya and Ezma, Weskham, Camelia . . . —they would all be lost if he didn’t do this.

He just didn’t want to be kept in the dark anymore. He guessed that same logic should probably be applied to his closest family.

Turning to look them all in the eye, Noct said in a slow, steady voice, “All this time, you guys were protecting me. You guys . . . and Prompto . . . you’ve all stayed with me, and all it’s done is caused you pain. If I’m really some kinda savior, then I’m gonna save the ones I love. But I need you guys to go on after this and continue helping the people . . . in whatever way makes you happy.”

Ignoring Laura’s stoic expression, Gladio’s open mouth, and Iggy’s firm resolution, Noct turned to Shiva, who spoke before he could say anything.

“Before long, the darkness will swallow the Six and the star they protect. This star’s fate no longer rests in the hands of the gods. It sits on the shoulders of the Chosen. Deliver this world from darkness—and grant my love release.”

“I’ll do it,” he said firmly. “But no more keeping secrets.” When he heard Laura scoff in disgust, he looked over at her. “What?”

But she kept her burning eyes locked on Shiva as she answered, “Let’s not even discuss how you should have been there for Luna that day or how you can apparently subdue _him_ with such ease,” she sneered, flinging a hand toward the back of the car where Ardyn stood frozen. “These men are spending their one ‘fragile life’ in the ‘foolish fancy’ that they can clean up your mess. Yet their hope does not ‘melt like snow in the sun’s light;’ it endures as the strongest diamond. How insulting is it that you claim you no longer have the power to protect the star, but leave them in the dark and make them walk through fire, water, and ice to receive your ‘blessing’?”

“Power must always come at a cost. The Queen well knows this.”

“Then bear the cost yourself,” she snapped back. “You cannot play god then wash your hands of the things that you’ve created. Sooner or later, the day comes when you can’t hide from the things that you’ve done anymore.”

“The Six will bear the cost,” Shiva responded coolly. “The heirs of Eos are nearly gathered for the cleansing.”

Laura went quiet as her eyes widened. “Oh. I see,” she said in a small voice. “It seems you truly _can’t_ hide from the things you’ve done any longer.”

Shiva bowed her head in acknowledgement, and before Noct could ask what they were talking about, her icy blue eyes slid from Laura back to Noct.

“The Oracle is no longer of this world, but her thoughts remain—and they must be known. The High Messenger is moved by the girl’s determination to restore the light, her heart warmed by the girl’s benevolence. Her faith in mankind is restored once more.”

Noct had just enough time to register Laura’s hand slapping on his shoulder before a swift, icy wind blew through his skull, shoving images of Luna and sylleblossoms behind his eyelids. The sky was a gradient of buttery yellow to brilliant blue, so different from the dim, hazy orange they’d just left, and the cool breeze seemed to set the puffy white clouds and indigo flowers alike to stirring as it tugged at the edges of Luna’s short white dress and made the tips of her golden hair flutter.

Being able to see her face up close like this—without a mask—had she really been that beautiful?

 _“If only I could . . . hear his voice once more . . . if we could laugh together as we did as children. If we could . . . live out our days together as we once dreamed,”_ Luna whimpered, hunching over and trembling with the effort of holding in her quiet sobs.

Noct had never really been the hugging type, but seeing her weeping like that . . . standing alone in that field of flowers where she had once wheeled his wheelchair out so they could play together . . . something ripped his heart at that sight, and he wanted nothing more in the world than to run and throw his arms around her, to tell her that he was there and he would never let her down again.

 _“Others need not hide their grief. Is the Lady so different from them?”_ Noct heard Gentiana’s voice ask softly.

 _“No, she is no different at all,”_ Luna said, gulping down her sobs and shaking her head _._ Growing quieter, she said, “ _She wants exactly what they do: to be with the one she loves. But want though she may, it is not to be.”_

Oh Six, Luna—she _had_ loved him back, and gods, that was no comfort at all. In fact, it hurt like hell—an actual knife slowly being pushed into his chest. If he could just _touch_ her, just this once . . ..

 _“The Lady’s thoughts have been heard,”_ Gentiana said in a voice like glass. Reaching up to tenderly brush a tear away from Luna’s eye with her thumb, she said, “ _The love she bears the King shall never fade—and, in time, her feelings shall be known unto him. And if the words are not spoken from her lips, then the Messengers shall see that they are heard. The gods’ favor and the Lady’s love shall be with him evermore.”_

 _“Gentiana,”_ she breathed, grasping a hand in both hers, and if Noct was seeing things right, a single crystal tear rolled down the goddess’s cheek and dripped into her long dark hair. _“I’m undeserving of your kindness. Thank you.”_

Noct could’ve stayed there in that blissful paradise for eternity, watching Luna receive that act of kindness she’d been shown so little of in her life. But he was jarred back to reality when his brain suddenly began receiving messages from his eyes instead of the goddess—the frigid air making itself known again as he shivered in his jackets on his knees. Was this how it felt when Laura and Iggy did this? How could Iggy bear leaving his dream world every morning to face reality?

Turning his head really quick in both directions, he was surprised to find himself mostly alone with Shiva; only Laura stood some ways back by the door of the car, leaning against the wall like she was waiting patiently for the Glacian to finish.

Turning back to the hovering goddess in front of him, Noct murmured, “Thank you . . . for giving that to her.”

“And so the promise is fulfilled. As her words go with him, so shall my blessing,” Shiva said softly, spreading her hands to summon Luna’s trident in a halo of sparkling blue. “O King of Kings, restore light unto this world. The King and the Frostbearer shall meet again—once the Chosen receives the revelation of the Bladekeeper at the Umbral Isle upon reflection.”

He didn’t know how or why Gentiana had gotten a hold of Luna’s trident after he’d used it to earn the Mark of Leviathan, and at that point, he really didn’t care. His jacket crackled with breaking frost as he reached up with a numb hand to take the trident, dismissing it to the Royal Armiger with a, “Thanks.”

Without another word, the Glacian disappeared in a flash of blue, leaving Noct alone enough to quietly fall apart between frosted green pleather seats and that gods damned textured rubber. Glowing indigo flashed on the corner of his vision as he choked back the tears that were coming whether he liked it or not, and a delicate, velvet brush of something passing over his hand made him push himself up a little. Reaching out to gently stroke the edge of the petal, he hit the floor with his other fist.

Fuck, it was just so unfair. They’d both been cursed from the beginning, both been born to die. He’d set out to _finally_ save her, thinking he could _finally_ get her away from the Empire after they’d left her behind all those years ago, and she’d never even meant to get out of Altissia alive. Even if her death had been fated, why had she had to suffer her entire life? Why couldn’t he have been there for her in the end?

“Luna . . . I’m sorry,” he choked, hoping that if this ghostly sylleblossom petal could reach him, his words could echo across the void and reach her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you. Not even . . .” he slapped the floor again in frustration, “. . . when you needed me most.”

Six, had he known he was only gonna get one chance to tell her how he felt, he wouldn’t’ve waited to sort all those swirling thoughts in his head. He would’ve told her right then and there at the masquerade and dealt with the consequences later, but no. He’d still been doing his stupid ass thing trying not to deal with the thoughts that made him sick, and he’d missed his chance.

“There was so much you wanted to say. So much I wanted to say,” he said to the floor, hating how much his voice was shaking, “and now I’ll never have the chance. I’m so sorry.”  

He’d been holding it back for what felt like eternity—this sickening wave of hurt—as _they_ continued to batter at the back of his mind like moving shadows, chipping away at his soul and stealing away what little there was left of him. He would surrender to it soon, on his own gods damned terms, but he was taking this moment to feel it—just as Laura had taught him.

And he cried. He cried like he had when his nanny died, when they’d left Luna behind in the fires of war, when he’d lost his dad and his home, when he’d let Luna down—just like he promised he wouldn’t. The tears he’d been ignoring for so long finally spilled over his eyelids, burning his skin before freezing on his cheeks and the floor by his hands.

This time when he felt the delicate touch of a petal just on the edge of the pinky finger of his fingerless glove, he noticed the change of light and looked up.

_Luna._

That same dress. Those sweet, smiling eyes. She’d always been so kind to everyone, always willing to set aside all the shitty things she’d been through to help anyone in need. He’d done a piss poor job of actually doing much about it, but she’d always inspired him to be as _good_ as she’d been.

“Luna, I love you,” he choked, because who knew how long she’d be here to hear it? Even though he’d practically blurted it out, it still felt like the words had been ripped from his chest. Iggy’d been right. It _hurt_. Why did it hurt so much?

Her perfect lips twitched up a little more at his words, but her eyes grew large and sad. With trembling fingers, he reached out to touch her—just one touch, maybe one kiss, before he set out to join her. Of course, for all they’d done for the world, it couldn’t manage to give him the one thing he wanted—to touch her skin _once_ like he hadn’t since he was eight years old. She slipped through his fingers like vapor, leaving a cloud of sylleblossom petals behind to float down around him and catch in his hair. He caught one before it landed, holding the glowing talisman as tenderly as he would have her hand and letting himself go again.

“Luna,” he gasped, the burn rising up in his throat. “You and I will be together again someday. I promise.”

Pulling himself together, he leaned on the frigid bench armrest and hauled himself to his feet. With a deep breath that made his lungs ache, he turned to face Laura, who looked like she was pretending to find something fascinating about the frosted-over window.

“Sorry,” she murmured when he shuffled closer, feeling a little dead inside. “I sent the others to de-ice the engine and check on Biggs and Wedge so you could have some privacy, but I couldn’t leave you alone in here with _him_ ,” she spat, nodding to the frozen Ardyn behind him. “No telling if he would’ve stayed like that with you distracted.”

Noct took a step toward the man . . . his uncle . . . then another. He tried—he really did—to hold in that seething anger, directing it to his numb fingers to curl it into his fists. This was _all_ his fault. If he’d done what he was supposed to, none of them would’ve had to go through this shit.

“Noctis,” he heard Laura call from behind him, and he could tell by the tone of her voice that she’d picked up on what he was about to do.

He didn’t care.

“Damn you,” he hissed, summoning his sword and driving it through where Ardyn’s ice-cold heart should’ve been. “That’s for Luna!” he spat, wishing it could be permanent.  Without waiting to see what would happen to the pieces he’d left behind, he whirled and marched past Laura. “Come on,” he growled. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

“Noct,” Laura warned, catching him by the arm and spinning him in the direction he’d just come from.

“You know,” Ardyn drawled, rolling his head on his shoulders and leaning casually against a train seat. “I feel I’ve earned the right to call you Noct.” When his yellow eyes slid to where Laura had just stepped up beside Noct, he smiled patronizingly. “Now, now—this is between me and my dear nephew. Not _everything_ is about you, you know.”

Looking down and away, Ardyn hid his eyes from Noct’s scrutiny as he said in a wounded tone, “Your attack hurt me.” He slowly turned his head to reveal his dark glare. “My feelings, at least. And after all the memories we’ve shared! Remember this? Ah! I should have asked if you remember _him_. Truly a blast from the past, nay?”

Instead of recoiling when Ardyn pulled out Prompto’s quicksilver and pointed it at them, Noct lunged forward, reaching for its barrel. That was _Prompto’s_ favorite gun—not his best, but he loved that it was randomly named after him and usually pulled it out first in a fight.

But Ardyn snatched it away before he could touch it, raising it in the air with an, “Ah, ah, ah, you mustn’t take . . . what’s not yours!”

“WHERE IS HE?” Noct demanded as Ardyn turned and sauntered a few steps away in his usual dramatic fashion.

“He?” Ardyn said with a gleeful little chuckle as he twisted to smile over his shoulder. “The little gunman’s a short shot away. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you. And you might even find your Crystal. With all these daemons about, you could certainly use it. Off you go then. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your friend.”

As he spoke, he slowly raised a fist in the air, his fingers wrapped around what looked like the kind of black clicky pen that Prompto would sometimes drive him nuts with when they’d study at his place.

“Hey!” Noct protested when Laura suddenly grabbed Noct by the shoulder, shoving him between the seats just as Ardyn pressed the little red button at the top.

She lay over him for several seconds like she was protecting him with her body, but the train car remained silent except for Ardyn’s retreating chuckle and heavy thunk of boots on the floor.

“Laura?” Noct asked when he heard the door slam shut.

Laura moved off him and grabbed his hand to pull him to his feet. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Thought it might’ve been a bomb . . .even if he shouldn’t be hurting you until he gets what he wants, I couldn’t take the chance.”

“So you don’t know what that thing was?”

She shook her head. “Much as I would like to, I don’t know everything, you know.”

“Seems like it sometimes,” he chuckled, looking down at his boots. But then he remembered, “Are the others okay?”

Laura nodded first before tilting her head, her attention focusing inward as her blue eyes went blank. “Everyone’s all right. They’re just finishing up with the train. We should be getting underway in a few more minutes. Come on, let’s move to the dining car and get out of this melting frost.”

It was easy to ignore the scent of old oil on the air as he hopped up onto one of the stools, letting his head fall heavy into his hands and the marginal warmth of the place settle into his burning fingertips. Someone had scratched the word _Endlessness_ into the dark wood of the counter, and he skimmed the pads of his fingers over the wound as he heard Laura say, “You shouldn’t have done that, you know.”

“He deserved it.”

He felt her sit down on the stool next to him, but he didn’t look up from tracing the letters. She sighed heavily.

“I know it’s hard,” she said softly, her voice trailing off before she began again in a stronger voice. “I told you way back in Longwythe I wasn’t going to offer unsolicited advice, but I feel like this is too important.” Noct heard rather than felt her hand settle on his layers of jackets, and he finally dared to meet her eyes—so much like his own. He wondered what it would’ve been like to have a sister—someone to help him through this shit in every universe—someone like Iggy, but of his own blood. But then, he guessed she’d be slated to die, same as him.

“Please, don’t let this harden you,” she pleaded. “Consider mercy, Noctis. After all, there is darkness in all of us.”

Noct’s attention drifted slowly back down to the counter. As much as he hated the _idea_ of showing that bastard any kind of mercy, she was probably right. Luna definitely would’ve . . . but he had no idea what mercy really meant for a man he had no choice but to kill.

“Do you want to talk about it? Any of it?”

Noct blew out a breath and shook his head. “Honestly, it was easier when I didn’t talk about any of this—feel any of this.”

“Part of having feelings is learning to integrate them into your life, Noct . . . learning to live with them. No matter what the circumstances . . . sometimes it takes courage to try. Courage can be an emotion too.”

Courage—he’d always managed to summon it in the heat of the moment, but when it came to something like putting that gods damned Ring on, he’d always been a coward. But could anyone blame him, really, for being in no rush to take on his role as King and hurtle headlong into death? Laura never had.

“Just . . . thanks. You know, for always looking out for us.”

She stared at him for a moment with a fathomless expression before wrapping a hand around the back of his head and slowly pulling him forward until his temple touched her lips briefly. He thought, no matter what, this kinda thing would always feel weird to him, especially now that she was Iggy’s wife, but he allowed the contact, wondering if this heavy flutter in his chest was what it felt like to love a sister. He could see it now—what his dad had seen in her all those months ago.

When she pulled back, her eyes were shimmering as she said, “Thank you, for letting me into your family.”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know this, but he found his mouth opening to ask anyway. “Was my . . .,” he swallowed. “Was my dad scared?”

Her lips pulled down into a pitying frown that made him want to tear his eyes away, but he held her gaze as she admitted, “Terrified. But he faced his fate with his head held high, to protect you . . . and Luna.”

And that was actually a relief to hear—that the strongest man he’d ever known had been scared to face death. “I guess it makes it easier when you have people you have to protect,” he said quietly, thinking of Prompto, Iggy, Gladio, and even her.

“You have some time before it’s supposed to happen,” she said gently, reaching for his hand and squeezing it tightly. Her eyes moved over his face, searching for something, before she said, “Noctis, I swear to you, if there’s any way in the world I can be there when it happens, I will be—like I was for your father.”

Noct jerked his hands back and shook his head roughly. “No. I can’t ask you to do that. I saw what happened to you back in Cartanica. I need the four of you to be there for each other in the end—protect them first and foremost. Besides,” he squinted out the frost-lined window as the train jerked forward, “I have a feeling something’s gonna happen when we get to the Crystal. I just . . . I dunno, feel it.”

“ _Something_ big is going to happen in Gralea,” she confirmed. “I feel it too, but I don’t know what it is yet.”

“I just wish I had a choice in all this,” he sighed, picking at a loose string on his coat cuff. “At least I know why it has to be me now, not that that makes it suck any less.”

“As much as I wish I could tell you that we are all masters of our own fate, people like you and me, and even the other guys to a certain extent, are ruled by the laws of time. We can only be our own masters in the moments in between, in our flux points, and that’s where our true potential lies.”

“And we may yet be able to change the tides of fate, Noct,” Iggy added as he strode into the dining car, “now that we have more information about what the Crystal requires to rid the world of darkness. We have _time_.”

Laura looked away, her nostrils flaring a little as she spoke quietly. “We’ll see. We’ll certainly try our best.” She let out a deep breath before sliding off the stool, skipping behind the bar, and placing a heavy pot on the stove. “Allons-y!” she said with a bright smile as she pulled a foil-wrapped bar from her Pocket. “We still have a few more hours until we reach Gralea. I think Biggs and Wedge have earned themselves some hot chocolate, and I’ve got this milk from a creature called a cow that’s going to blow your mind.”

Much to Iggy’s somewhat reluctant amusement, Laura had whipped cream, chocolate drizzle, _and_ some of her mini marshmallows for him to use on her alien hot chocolate. It was a strange idea to be drinking milk from an animal that wasn’t a sheep, but the flavor was milder, sweeter, less gamey; Noct found he kinda preferred it. And Iggy seemed to be inspired by it, even though he claimed he’d had cow’s milk before, as he’d come up with at least four new recipes—at least, that was how many Noct had noticed as he sipped at his cocoa.

And then there was the marshmallows. Why the hell hadn’t they invented those here yet? They probably should’ve had more of her s’mores while they were camping and had the chance.

But even though he was starting to get a little sleepy from the rhythmic rocking of the train beneath him and the crash after the sugar high, he found he couldn’t rest with Gladio pacing back and forth in agitation, the phoenix fire still blazing in his restless brown eyes.

“We’re almost there, Princess,” Laura said sympathetically, setting a cup of coffee down in front of Ignis. He grabbed her hand before she turned away, and Noct could tell by the way their eyes met that they were exchanging some kinda gooey thank you. When Gladio passed by their booth again, she said, “Unfortunately, I’m sure there will be plenty of daemons for you to work that potion out on.”

“I almost hope so. I’m losing my _fucking_ mind over here. Dunno how the fuck you managed to _sleep_ , of all things,” he said to Iggy.

“I did tell you—” he began, but was interrupted by the screech of train brakes.

“What now,” Noct muttered as they all stood and headed to the front of the car with quick, wary steps. Seemed like the best idea was to get to the engineers first, since they couldn’t see anything in the black windows beyond.

“I haven’t been able to see anything since we entered this tunnel,” Laura said, frowning as they passed another window. “But there are a limited number of options as to what it could be, and none of them are good.”

“My guess? Something to sidetrack us,” Ignis replied darkly.

They’d made it to the sleeping car when a ground-shattering explosion yanked the floor underneath his feet and sent webs of sharp cracks spreading over the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Oi, uhh . . . city’s tryin’ t’ keep us out . . . wiv the daemons,” came Biggs’s distorted voice over the loudspeaker just as three goblins slammed themselves against the broken glass and began crawling up the train.

“Doubted it was gonna be with unicorns,” Laura muttered.

“Gotta run! Don’t worry about us!” Biggs finished before the loudspeaker clicked off.

When a goblin jammed a bony fist into a nexus of cracks and crashed to the floor of the car in a shower of shards, Noct held out a hand and growled, “Let’s get to work.”

But the ultima blade he was calling for didn’t appear in his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Gladio asked.

“My weapons! They’re stuck!” Noct yelled back.

“Guess we know what that trigger was for now,” Laura said. “I can’t access your armiger, either.”

“Get back!” Gladio roared, raising an arm to shove Noct behind him as he leveled a kick at the goblin’s head.

“Run!” Iggy shouted, and the four of them turned to the back of the train. He passed Laura as he ran, noting that her gleaming silver-white falchions were in her hands.

“I’ll take point. Ignis, Gladio, heads up!” She tossed both falchions hilt-first toward Gladio and Iggy, who both reached out and snatched them from the air without stopping.

“Time these daemons received a little training,” Iggy said with a smirk as he reached for the back door of the car.

Laura bit her lip for the briefest of seconds before pulling out a long golden tube, decorated with the same kind of silver scrollwork Iggy had on his daggers. “Go on,” she said, jerking her head. “Afraid I don’t keep enough weapons around for all of us. Shouldn’t even be using this one here.”

With a nod, Noct sprinted after Iggy and Gladio, phasing to dodge the goblins and snagas that they hadn’t managed to cut down or had broken into the train after they’d passed. Over the sound of breaking glass and the rumbling of the train being tilted on its wheels, he could make out an odd whirring sound coming from behind him. As much as he wished he could see what Laura was doing with that tube back there, he kept his eyes fixed in front of him.

“Only a matter of time before we run out of room to run!” Iggy called back.

“You got a better idea?” Noct asked as they hurtled through the dining car. Because as much as he hated the prospect, he did have a better idea, and while it didn’t make him one ounce less afraid, he knew it was gonna have to happen eventually. It might as well happen when it was his choice. Reaching into his pocket, he grasped the Ring and clenched it in his fist, ignoring for the moment the familiar whispering at the back of his mind.

_We’re here. Come and claim your final legacy._

“We trade the train for the Regalia,” Iggy said. “To the freight car!”

But as they dashed to the back of the train, past upended wooden crates, around boxes of canned peas spilling out into the aisle, and over fallen metal shelves, the flashes of movement in the dim lighting of the freight car made it all too clear that the daemons had beaten them to it.

“Gladio, cover me while I unhook the Regalia,” Iggy shouted, throwing himself to the floor at the trunk as Gladio sliced through a snaga trying to leap at his back.

There were too many of them. With Gladio preoccupied keeping them off Iggy and Laura holding off more just outside the door with her mysterious whirring and flashes of gold light, Noct was beginning to grow a little frantic when it seemed like there were even more daemons crawling over the car after he’d kicked and punched off the ones he could reach.

It was time.

He took a quick, almost painful breath, allowing himself one last second to be plain old Noct, before he opened his fist, squeezed his eyes shut, and slammed the Ring onto his right middle finger.

Voices. Memories. Power. The Light and the Dark rushed into his head, shoving him to the side and shouting in his thoughts.

_The Crystal. The Crystal. GET TO THE CRYSTAL._

But there was enough of him left to remember that he was only here to save his friends. Raising his hand to the Regalia, he commanded the full power of his family line to cast the car in a bright white, holy light, shriveling every daemon in its wake. Horror clutched at his heart to see the delta of ashy embers break out over his arms as the power left his fingertips, but that power of life endemic to his line sealed them back to healthy, if not a bit sensitive, skin.

Had he been allowed to live long enough, Noct knew those webs would eventually become scars as they had for his dad.

“Noct,” Iggy breathed with wide eyes as he jumped to his feet, and Gladio let out a, “The fuck?”

Noct shrugged casually, even though his nerves were still dancing, and reached for the handle to the back door. “Figured it was time I stopped being dragged along and became King.”

“We’ll discuss this in the car. More are sure to be on the way,” Iggy said as Laura flung the other back door open. “Are you certain _you_ shouldn’t be doing the driving?”

Iggy didn’t pause as he slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door, but Laura answered, “Between your lessons and being more familiar with how the Regalia handles, you’re still the best man for the job.”

Noct could hear the smile in his voice as he started up the car. “Hmm.”

The second Gladio shut the door after throwing the back of the train open, Iggy slammed his foot on the gas.

“Hold on!” he called out as the car flew into the air. She landed on the tracks, front tires first, with a screech and a jolt that tried to throw Noct into the back of Iggy’s seat, locking his seatbelt in place.

“Damn it,” Gladio growled. “This tiny ass sword is flying everywhere. How the hell do you even kill shit with these toothpicks?”

“At least you’re finally living up to your name, Gladiolus,” Iggy remarked as he swerved to miss an abandoned train car. “Tuck it between the seat and the console. It seems the city’s auto-defense systems have been alerted to our presence, so there’s about to be plenty more maneuvering.”

“Just don’t crash,” Noct muttered, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the headrest.

“I appreciate your sage advice, but it’ll take a bit more than a few jolts here and there to stop His Majesty’s trusty steed,” Iggy said wryly, but his voice grew heavy as he asked, “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he said, lying through his fucking teeth, because _nothing_ would ever be all right again, “figured it was time I join the fight to rescue the Crystal . . . not to mention rescue all of _your_ asses.”

“Spoken like your dad . . . like a true King,” Gladio said with a heavy-hearted pride that Noct understood all too well.

“The Ring represents a great burden. Remember you don’t bear it alone,” Iggy said gently.

“You can say that again. You guys got my back?” Noct asked.

Laura put a hand on his arm as Iggy answered, “Always.”

***

The engine spluttered and died just as his faithful Regalia fishtailed to a halt just outside what he sure as hell hoped was the fortress, but knowing Iggy, they were right where they needed to be. Iggy removed his hands from the wheel and sat back with a sigh. The oppressive silence in the cabin kinda reminded Noct of that first day out of the city when they’d overheated her engine, and they’d all sat there wondering just what the hell they were supposed to do about it.

They sure had come such a very long way.

“Looks like that’s all she’s got,” Gladio said sadly.

“It’ll do,” Noct muttered.

“I must offer my most sincere apologies—” Iggy began, but Noct cut him off.

“No. We might’ve died if it hadn’t been for you, Specs—and definitely wouldn’t’ve gotten through the gate in time. Dunno where the hell you learned to drive like that.”

“Besides, it depends on whether we can find a couple of airships when we get out of here,” Laura said. “One for the Crystal and one for the car. Maybe we can get her back to Cindy.”

“Yeah,” Noct said, unclicking his seatbelt and opening the door as the others followed suit.

Despite what Laura thought, he knew that whatever big thing that was going down here was gonna involve him, and the voices whispering in the back of his head that were growing stronger by the minute were more than hinting that getting out of the city wasn’t gonna be his problem.

Which was, in itself, a problem. How could he protect his friends if he wasn’t gonna be there for any of it?

Noct took two steps toward Zegnautus Keep before turning back for one final, longing look at the forlorn and broken Regalia sitting alone in the dark—his last link to home, to his dad. He hadn’t really thought about it, but that car had held his dad there with them in spirit, protecting them as they traversed deserts, forests, mountains, water, and snow. He tried to erase the smoke curling from the hood, the battered front end, the broken windows, and the scorch marks flung up the side panels. His mind’s eye was suddenly transported just outside the Citadel—the bright sun shining through the Wall as his dad stepped out of the car and spread his arms and lips wide for a hug.

“Dad,” he choked as a single whisper in the back of his head surged, “thanks for everything.”

For the last time, Noct turned his back on the dead Regalia and marched into hell, his back straight and his head held high, with three of the four members of his family following behind him.

Prompto first, then the Crystal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Courage speech from Star Trek. Can't hide from the things you've done speech from Battlestar Galactica.


	76. Chapter 76

The crash of the train car falling heavily onto the metal tracks below stabbed like cactuar needles in Gladio’s oversensitive ears, and he took several running steps backwards, clapping his hands to his head to give him some kinda protection from the pain.

He had no fucking clue how Ig had lived through this the first time.

He’d taken a phoenix down before in the middle of a battle, and it’d been fucking awesome—improved his reflexes, made his mind sharper, gave him more energy. But sitting around like that for hours had only made him restless, agitated, and more than touchy to any kind of sensory input. With the way things had gone with Laura and Iggy, he’d expected it to be more of an aphrodisiac, but it seemed like a good fuck or a good fight like what he’d started back in the train would be equally good right about now to work off this crippling anxiety.

“Noct!” Iggy called out to the other side of the train car, darting toward the door to pry it open with his fingers. “The doors are stuck. Give us a moment, and we can crawl underneath to join you.”

“I got company!” Noct called back as they searched for an opening large enough for them to crawl through between the train wheels. “Think he wants us to split up. I gotta run!”

Of all the times for the kid to grow a pair.

Laura suddenly flung a hand out across Gladio’s chest, and he sucked in a deep breath as his nerves sang with the contact.

“He’s right. Get back!” she said, pushing him away from the car as Iggy dashed away.

Not really understanding why he was doing so, Gladio threw himself toward the guardrail back by the broken-down Regalia—just as an explosion echoed through his head, searing heat across his back from the billowing orange and black fireball racing toward them. Laura shoved him behind the hood just as the flames passed over them, threatening to fry the hair off his head before he ducked lower.

“Is Noct all right?” Gladio heard Iggy ask over the roar.

Laura went still for several seconds, closing her eyes before she nodded. “He’s being chased far and fast by daemons, but he has the Ring.”

As the roar quieted to a series of cracks, pops, and flickering flames, Gladio fought the jittery urge to run out to the tracks, lift the burning train car over his head, and fling it to the side to get to his king by clenching his fist around Laura’s sword tightly. “Test or not, we gotta get to him.”

“Even out of commission, she’s still protecting us,” Laura murmured, running gentle fingers over the passenger door as she stood to look over the roof.

“She was nothin’ like the Star of Lucis in terms of speed, but she brought us a long way,” Gladio said sadly, standing to check out the damage. Didn’t look like they could make it through that car, but maybe they could manage to scramble over one of the train cars flipped on their sides a couple over from the fire. “Even your Insignia had a helluva lot more get up and go, Ig.”

As they rushed toward the train car Laura had pointed to, Iggy said, “To be fair, I had a much newer Quartz model, and was lucky to obtain an Insomnian-made vehicle at all. Still—” he said with a morose sigh, “would that I had destroyed mine and not His Majesty’s.”

“No point harpin’ on it. Ya did the best you could,” Gladio said.

They both handed Laura her falchions to dismiss to her Pocket before Iggy hoisted her up to the top of the tipped-over car. Iggy followed after, taking a running leap onto the kicked-out emergency exit on the roof before jumping up to Laura’s side with her helping hand. As Gladio waited below, shifting back and forth and feeling the gravel crunch under his boots and vibrate against the soles of his feet, his instincts were screaming that everything was wrong about this situation. For the first time since leaving Insomnia, he was dependent on Laura for weapons, and the kid who’d finally proven himself a dependable king was fighting in the dark with the Ring and no Shield.

It kinda figured now that his resignation had transformed to his honor seemingly overnight, Gladio had lost the chance to prove himself and stay by Noct’s side no matter what. And then Prompto. He had to find _some_ way to get ‘em all back together.

With a grunt of effort as Iggy and Laura helped pull him up, Gladio hoisted himself onto the side of the train car and stood straight, looking out to the entrance of the Keep and the dim lights of the deserted city below and beyond.

“Looks like the way forward’s pretty clear,” he said, thrusting a chin the way Noct must’ve gone, “but it ain’t gonna be pretty. Lotta daemons ahead, I bet.” As Laura thrust her falchion into his hand and he forced his meaty fist under the rapier-like guard, he continued, “And these little stingers combined with whatever the fuck that tube’s s’posed to be . . . I ain’t liking our chances.”

“We can’t leave Noct to face the daemons alone. We must work with what we have, unfortu—” Iggy began, but froze and whipped his eyes down to the ground on the left. Though Gladio followed his gaze, he couldn’t see a damn thing in this endless black that would grab his attention like that, but he readied his sword regardless. Ig was starting to prove he could sense things regular people obviously couldn’t.

Gladio stumbled back a step as the tube Laura was holding suddenly _grew_ with a whispering whoosh followed by the buzz of live electricity. A gold ray of light, probably the length of his katana, flickered and hummed as she stood ready to face whatever threat she and Iggy could detect that he couldn’t. As much as he wanted to ask her what the ever-living fuck she was carrying, he widened his stance again without a word.  

“Perhaps I could be of service,” Ardyn said in that condescending tone of his, stepping casually out of the darkness with a smug smile that made Gladio wanna punch him in the face—immortal ancestor of darkness or not.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Gladio growled, though he had to admit he was glad to see the fucker because it meant he wasn’t torturing Noct or Prompto.

“Why, I come bearing gifts!” he said jovially.

Laura levelled a withering stare down at him, the illumination from her light-sword thing making her pale skin glow gold like when she was doing her time goddess magic.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Greek, would you?” she asked.

Of course, Gladio didn’t get the reference, but he pretended he had, smirking down at Ardyn’s twitching brow.

“I thought you might like your weapons back,” he said with a pout, holding up a black clicky pen with a red button on top.

Iggy tilted his head, not taking his sharp eyes off Ardyn. He and Laura must’ve come to a silent agreement, because the gold light shrunk back into the tube with a sucking sound before she dismissed it to her Pocket. Much as he wished he could’ve been in on the conversation, he had to trust their judgment of this guy, since they both seemed to have some kinda connection with his head space.

“It appears as though my carefully thought-out plans will have to be reconsidered,” Ardyn sighed as Gladio reluctantly handed Laura her falchion along with Iggy. “It seems you, at least, need no assistance at all, my dear—almost as though you operate on a different wavelength.”

“Always have,” Laura said carefully, but Gladio kept his eyes locked on that trigger thing. The second Ardyn clicked it, he summoned Laura’s broadsword to his hand, letting out a breath as he gripped the familiar weight in his palm.

Ardyn clicked it again before saying, “Now, I believe a thank-you is in order.”

Taking two threatening steps forward and raising his blade, Gladio said, “For what—another one of your stupid tricks?”

Ardyn took a step back and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Here I am, helping for a change, but I can see I’m not wanted.” Clutching at his heart before flicking a casual, back-handed wave in the air, he smirked and turned on his heel to stroll through another abandoned train car behind him.

“What the hell is that tube thing? And why weren’t we using those instead of your tiny ass swords?” Gladio asked when he was pretty sure Ardyn had gone.

“It’s called a lightsaber, and it needs me to work in this universe. I shouldn’t be using it here at all . . . shouldn’t be using tech that could change the course of history in a foreign universe. Can you dismiss those?” Laura asked thoughtfully, still staring into the dark.

Gladio reached out with his bond through Noct to the Crystal, his fingers tightening around the hilt as he failed to sheath the blade back into the pocket universe he’d grown so accustomed to using.

“No,” Iggy said flatly.

“I thought not. It’s like . . . I can still feel the Crystal, but she’s like a word on the tip of my tongue I can’t get out.” Dismissing her blades, she shook her head clear and looked first at him, then Iggy. “Looks like you boys will have to handle things the old-fashioned way I guess.” Another flash of silver light, and she was holding out a long, polished wooden sheath, decorated and capped with the kinda winding mythril vines that always seemed to decorate her stuff.

“For your belt,” she added unnecessarily once he’d taken it from her and she’d summoned another two for Iggy. “Don’t want to have to rely on me for weapons storage in a place like this.”

“Thanks, babe,” Gladio grunted as he hung the sheath and redid his belt. It’d been years since he’d had to use one of these, but he couldn’t find it in himself to grumble about it; at least he had a sword that would fit his hands now. Laura hummed an acknowledgement before turning around and stepping down onto the wheels of the train car sticking out, descending to the other side. “You think he’s gonna give Noct a weapon, too?”

“I very much doubt it,” Iggy replied, frowning. “Else he would have simply left his device off. He wants Noct to use the Ring.”

“Yeah, and by the way, how can he do that?” Gladio asked, climbing down the axle and leaping to the ground with a grunt.

“There were reports in the Fall that Niflheim had developed the technology to neutralize the Power of Kings. Obviously, these were more than simply rumors, and the Chancellor has brought the weapon back to the Empire for this little scenario he’s cooked up.”

Without so much as pausing to take in their surroundings, Iggy and Laura marched up to the abandoned train car Ardyn had just disappeared into, walking confidently through the door. Trusting whatever freaky ass instinct those two always seemed to use, he followed after, his nerves dancing under his skin as the still air tickled at the hairs rising on the back of his neck. He shivered and shook his head to clear it.

“You guys know where you’re going?” he asked in a low voice as they strode up the aisle like they were heading for the breakfast car on a completely normal day.

“Follow her pain,” Iggy said heavily, pointing to Laura. “The Chancellor is no doubt leading Noct to the Crystal.”

“Shit,” Gladio said, remembering Ravatogh. “That’s gonna be an issue, isn’t it?”

Laura swung around the corner, jumped out of the car, and strode to the long flight of metal stairs that would lead them inside. “It won’t be as bad as Ravatogh. Eos and I have come to an understanding.”

“Let us hope she remains understanding. There’s no place in this entire city it would be safe to keep you otherwise,” Iggy said as they passed through the kicked-open doorway.

Even if the place had been brightly lit, there were no clues to what kinda purpose the room must’ve served. It looked like it’d been cleared out in a hurry: crates, trash, wooden pallets, overturned lawn chairs, and piles of building materials made the dark rooms and halls look like a set stage in the little pools of light cast by the emergency lighting system and orange lamps placed strategically on crates along the walls.

And the place was crawling with goblins.

“Looks like he’s been preparing this,” Gladio said, remembering to pull out his sword instead of summoning it. “You sure Noct came through here?”

“I didn’t see any other options,” Iggy said as he delicately adjusted his glasses before springing forward with his daggers raised.

They worked their way up the hall without a word, the only sounds in the echoing concrete space being the thuds of metal and flesh and the occasional grunt of exertion. Gladio felt damned good letting that pent-up energy out in a fight longer than five minutes, and he probably buried the tip of his blade into the concrete a few too many times to send out those rippling pulses of power that knocked every goblin off its little booted feet in a ten-foot radius. Even though it was a fuckton lighter than his afrosword, the weight of it burned at his arm in a satisfying kinda way after a half an hour spent clearing out the little pests, leaping into the air, and swinging it in wide arcs to bring it crashing to the floor with a clamorous clang that made his ears ring.

“How you doing, babe?” Laura asked when they were clear, stepping up close and searching his face. He took a step back in case she tried to touch him again, but she seemed to have gotten the hint and didn’t come any closer. It wasn’t like he had this desperate need to fuck her if she drew too close or anything, but the shiver of sensation her touch sent through him made him uncomfortable. For as much as they joked around, she was like a sister . . . and Iggy’s wife.

“It’s fine as long as we keep movin’,” he said, stepping around her and striding forward.

Iggy’s reply stopped him in his tracks for a second, even though he and Laura kept walking. “Be thankful you don’t have to resort to choking the chocobo. Turns out the battle comes in handy after all.”

“The fuck?” he muttered as he unstuck his feet from the floor and took a few jogging steps to catch up to them.

Seriously, who the fuck was this guy anymore? Was he really not worried about Noct at all? This entire trip, Iggy had been the one practically dressing him in the morning, flinging himself between Noct and any enemy they encountered—justified or not. It’d kinda been pissing Gladio off, cause how was the kid supposed to grow up with Mommy always at his side? Now the five of them were separated in some kinda apocalypse movie set, and he was making _masturbation jokes_?!

“A radio,” Iggy said suddenly, reaching out to a metal shelf along the wall. “Perhaps we can get some news as to the state of things out there.”

“And maybe explain some things going on in here,” Laura said. “The place shouldn’t be open and deserted like this, no matter what Aranea said.”

Gladio ignored the mention of _her_ name. They’d settled shit enough to get things handled back in Tenebrae, but he hadn’t had the time to even think about deciding what he was gonna do if he ever saw her again.

With a click of the power button, a smooth, authoritative woman’s voice seemed to bounce off the concrete walls and reverberate in Gladio’s ears, sounding way too loud in the dark silence before Iggy turned it down.

_“Failure to evacuate will result in incarceration or other appropriate disciplinary procedures. This emergency broadcast will repeat until the situation has been resolved. The ISB thanks you for your cooperation._

_“. . . This is the Imperial Security Bureau. A situation has arisen in several research sectors. All civilians must relocate to their designated refuge stations immediately. Failure to evacuate will result in incarceration or . . .”_

Iggy flicked the radio off with another click. “It appears the situation has escalated even beyond the Commodore’s bleak reports.”

“Given the state of the place, it’s probably all on automatic now,” Laura said as she shuffled through the trash and papers on the shelf next to the radio. “But look—a report of some sort. No doubt Ardyn wanted us to see it.”

“What’s it say?” Gladio asked.

Laura began walking slowly to the next room as she read, “Military Applications of Mutative Plasmodia: In light of the large sample size, the test results can be considered conclusive: commonly occurring parasitic protozoa are the agents of daemonification. These findings pave the way for the weaponization of daemons, and the first step involves finding a way to control mutated organisms. This report recommends Minister of Research Verstael Besithia submit a detailed budget request for the Deathless Project.”

“No surprises there. We already knew the Empire was making weapons from daemons. Aranea told you guys back in Steyliff,” Gladio said.

“Yes, but they too thought the scourge came from plasmodia, and yet it seems they knew there was some sort of mind control element to the scourge that they thought could be programmed. This will give us a place to start searching for a cure—wherever malaria comes from on your planet, probably some kind of insect.”

Gladio looked both ways as they passed through another deserted, trashed room and into an outdoor courtyard, his hands twitching as he grit his teeth against that gods damned potion. “We should try and find those refuge stations that announcement was talking about before we leave and see if we can’t evacuate the people. Shove ‘em in a ship somehow and bring ‘em back to Tenebrae or Lucis.”

“We may be able to manage two ships,” Iggy said with a frown as he came to a stop at a balcony that overlooked the twinkling lights of the city. “Four, if we can manage to find Biggs and Wedge after this is over.”

Gladio stepped up to the rail next to him, looking out over the silent city that reminded him far too much of Insomnia—but it was too damn quiet. Spookily quiet. He bet in its heyday, with the high skyscrapers and narrow streets, the train rolling past on the elevated bridge that intersected the city, and the Magitek engines swooping around Zegnautus, the noise must’ve been even worse than Insomnia, especially located in this bowl-like crater. Was this what Insomnia was like now? A massive ghost town? He shivered at the thought.

“I don’t feel a lot of minds out there,” Laura said in a low whisper. “I mean, my range doesn’t extend far beyond the compound, but I should be feeling at least general life in the city.”

“A city this size—it’s dead silent,” Iggy gasped softly.

“More like undead silent. Place is crawling with daemons. Maybe they used up their entire population on MTs and other weapons,” Gladio said, hoping it wasn’t true.

A flash of black and red swooped over their heads, and Gladio’s eyes shot to the sky, his hand going to the hilt at his hip.

“Fuck me,” Gladio breathed, relaxing a little when the giant winged creatures made no move toward them. “Are those things daemons?”

He’d never seen anything like them in his life— three heads arranged in a row with long, pointed snouts; three high, bony dorsal fins; and a single long tail . . . dozens of them loomed on silent bony wings around the Keep with glowing red eyes, floating on the air in a way that seemed unnatural.

So he wasn’t too surprised when Iggy said, “Yes. Judging by the description, I believe they’re what Aranea calls gayla—one of the rare non-violent species of daemons, only appearing in the most infested of areas.”

“Oh,” he said dumbly, twitching a little as one floated silently past. He wondered what kind of people they used to be, and why some turned into gaylas and others into goblins. “Let’s go find Noct and Prompto before we end up joining them.”

Winding, twisting hallways in the dark, filled with goblins, arachnes, and the eerily twitching rogue MTs Aranea had warned them about—it wasn’t the battles tensing his muscles and putting him on edge. They felt like busywork. They felt like the kinda crap that was accomplishing nothing but holding them back from getting to Noct, who was all alone in this shitty place with a new weapon that sucked the life out of him.  

Gods damnit, this was all his fault.

“How much more of this shit?” he grumbled. Clenching his jaw, he glared over at Laura. “How far away’s his mind, damnit?”

“I know you’re frustrated, but you need to calm down,” Laura said in that smooth, logical tone that Iggy would sometimes use with Noct when the kid was being unreasonable. But he wasn’t being unreasonable, for fuck’s sake. They’d never been in this deep before, and Iggy and Laura were acting like it was just another day.

“That asshole could be doing anything to either of them!”

“He’s likely doing the same thing to them as he is to us. The Chancellor strikes me as the type that allows an enemy to stew in the hell created by one’s own mind, rather than getting his hands dirty with active torture,” Iggy said.

Laura nodded in agreement. “You’re only giving him what he wants by getting agitated, and I know that potion isn’t helping . . .”

“I’m fine.”

“Hmm,” she said noncommittally, her lips twisting as she stared at the floor. After a few seconds of tense silence, she said, “I don’t like the looks of these hallways. There’s plenty of cover should we come across anything with all this random crap in the way, but I should scout ahead.”

Gladio narrowed his eyes after her as she trotted silently up to the end of the hall. She poked her head around the corner, looked both ways, and disappeared. Weird as it felt to lose sight of her like that, he guessed having her scout and report back would act kinda like a glimpse into the future for him and Ig.

But then the real reason for this little separation became obvious. He shoulda known.

“Don’t you think it’s time?” Ignis asked quietly, patiently.

“For what?”

“To let him go a little—let him learn what sort of King he is on his own. To prove to himself that he is the man we’ve always seen in him.” When Gladio raised an eyebrow at him out of the corner of his eye, Iggy continued, “Well, the man _I_ always saw in him.”

“Heh. Been shovin’ the little snot since the attack as a kid, and you were always so calm.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared down at the long line of metal grating on the floor. “All this time, and I’ve been shovin’ him straight to his death. Fuck, I gotta tell him I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Part of you had to have known,” Iggy said gently, also looking down the hall as they walked. “Though I’m quite familiar with the difference between suspecting and knowing for certain. I must say, you’re taking the news admirably compared to me. Still—I’ve learned well the lessons of what happens when I take my duty too far . . . in more than one universe, it would seem.”

“When’d _you_ find out?”

For a few seconds, it seemed like he wasn’t gonna answer, until he said shortly, “Altissia.”

The altar? Any one of the number of private moments Noct and Iggy had shared after? Dark as those times were, he wasn’t gonna ask—because either way, he hadn’t taken it well. Might explain why he was almost fucking serene right now; he’d had time to get used to the certainty of it.

“Guess I shoulda known somethin’ was up in Tenebrae. Kept sayin’ weird shit like he was tryin’ to set me free or somethin’. He knows that’s not gonna happen, right?”

“I think he was merely allowing us to cast aside our preconceived notions regarding what our duties entail,” Iggy said thoughtfully. “But so long as there’s even the slightest possibility we can overturn his fate, I hold fast to my previous plans.”

“Hey, Ig?”

“Hmm?”

“How’d you always just . . . _know_? You never wavered, not for a second.”

Iggy let out a long, weary sigh, running his gloved fingertips up his spiked bangs as he closed his eyes for a second. “I’ve known him since he was a toddler. It _always_ took some pushing, but he eventually did all that was asked of him. As long as I kept asking him to become a good king, I knew it would happen someday.”

“That’s it? _That’s_ what you staked the entire future of the world on?”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’? Merely a lifetime of habit. Perhaps a calculated risk, but hardly much of one in my mind.”

“You always were a gambler. I just didn’t know it,” Gladio chuckled. “But—turns out you were right this whole time.”

“I _am_ rather brilliant,” he replied with a smug smile, but his lips twitched down to a frown as they turned the corner into another empty hallway. He watched Iggy’s expression carefully to make sure he was only reacting to their conversation. When he didn’t grow alarmed, he figured Laura must’ve been clearing out the next hallway while they had this little heart-to-heart. “You’re still agitated though.”

“Your wife tell you that?”

“Give me a little more credit than _that_. Why does everyone keep assuming my every attribute is due to her? I’m beginning to wonder if any of you knew me at all before we left.”

“Been sayin’ that to myself since the first night we got outta there.”

“Really.”

Gladio jumped and reached for his sword at the sound of Ardyn’s teasing drawl, but twisting his head to locate its source, he spotted the speaker in a corner, strategically placed so the voice would echo perfectly for maximum creepiness down the dimly lit hallway.

“Right this way, gentlemen,” Ardyn coaxed. “Keep going . . . a little closer . . .”

“Second I see that guy, I’m gonna cut his fucking head off,” Gladio growled as Laura turned the corner and headed back to them with swift strides.

“Much good that will do,” Iggy muttered before stiffening as Laura drew closer. “She can feel Prompto.”

“He okay?” Gladio asked when she stopped in front of them. “Is he with Noct?”

“Such good boys,” Ardyn crooned as a section of wall next to them gave a little hiss before sliding open.

“They’re separated still—both okay, though Prompto is more . . . upset than Noct,” she said vaguely, but she didn’t need to elaborate for him to know what Prompto was probably feeling right now.

“Whaddya think this new game is?” Gladio asked, thrusting his chin toward the open wall, which led to another nearly identical hallway, surprisingly clear of daemons.

“It’s a dead-end the other way, so it’s not like we have much choice,” Laura replied with a shrug, stepping into the passage. “He _is_ leading us in a vague, meandering way toward the both of them.”

“I guess forward it is, then,” Gladio agreed, following her around the corner into the next room. “Place is a mess. Watch your step.”

“A communications room, of sorts,” Iggy said, pointing at a wall of gauges like he’d seen back at Meldacio and the Prairie Outpost. “Radio transceivers . . . perhaps this radio is picking up a different frequency.”

A hiss of static, and a similar authoritative female voice crackled through the speakers.

_“This is a status report from the Imperial Defense Force. The daemon outbreak stemming from several research facilities has been suppressed in most areas. Magitek infantry units have been deployed to remaining sectors. The situation is under control . . .”_

“Wow,” Laura breathed. “Propaganda like that, the city probably didn’t see it coming in the slightest.”

“Bet they never thought their little ‘pets’ would bust outta their cages,” Gladio said.

“I doubt even the daemons could simply escape from such a secure facility. It’s more likely their ‘master’ set them free,” Iggy said darkly as he slowly poked his head through the next doorway. “But look, there’s a full monitoring station just beyond. Perhaps we can get eyes on Noct or Prompto.”

“I doubt it’ll be that simple,” Laura said as she crossed the room, marched up to the left-most bank of monitors, and started fiddling with the buttons. “Ardyn led us here though, which means he wants us to see something. You two check out the other stations.”

As Iggy took the panel next to her, Gladio came to stand hesitantly in front of the last one, eyeing the array of joysticks, buttons, monitors, and all the other shit he didn’t really know what to do with. Looking over at Iggy and Laura working furiously, he said sheepishly, “I’m uh . . . kind of a low-tech guy.”

Iggy pulled his hands away from the controls and stood straight to give him the kinda exasperated stare that had earned him his nickname back home.

“Honestly, when do you believe I would have received training on Niflian monitoring station technology?”

“Uhh . . .”

“Come now, don’t pretend to be the mindless drone at the eleventh hour when I know what you’re capable of. Half the battle is merely reading what the buttons do and deducing the rest. Go on then.”

“Yeah,” he nodded and stepped closer to the controls. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I found a diary entry, of sorts,” Iggy said, staring at his screen. “It seems someone attempted to leave a final message. ‘More than half the Keep's inhabitants are now daemons. There's no hope of neutralizing them, not with control lost over the MTs. Outside, the city swarms with yet more daemons—former citizens. There's no escape.’ That certainly explains the state of things here, not to mention the city outside.”

“Yes it does, but now we just need to find out how to get to Noct and Prompto, unblock the Crystal’s powers, and get to the Crystal. Maybe we can find some more clues. Keep looking,” Laura said.

And looking wasn’t as bad as Gladio thought it was gonna be—waking up the monitors, checking out the database to see that only two file names were on the list . . . in a base this size with this many cameras?

“I don’t see Noct, Prompto, or the Crystal on any of these cameras, and it looks like everything’s been wiped,” Laura said as Ignis hummed in agreement. “Tried reconstructing deleted files from the drives’ free space, but it looks like they already overwrote everything.”

“Think I got a couple files on here,” Gladio said, double clicking the first on the list. “Looks like we’re s’posed to see somethin’.”

The other two came to stand beside him as he stared up at the static on the twelve monitors above them. The fuzz cleared into a larger-than-life image of an old man sitting back on a throne, a familiar figure standing tall in front of him.

Gladio had to give Ravus credit for having the balls of Bahamut to defiantly stand there and declare Noct the True King—even if he didn’t really understand what Ravus had hoped to gain by it. His sword was in his hand, so he was clearly gonna do _something_ , but Gladio had long ago learned that stating intentions before an execution was pretty much a waste of time.

Still—if he’d managed to get rid of the Emperor for them . . . maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

“The vapor,” Iggy said under his breath as the camera turned again in Iedolas’s direction. “The Emperor was infected . . . and clearly mad—declaring himself the True King.”

“I could see the scourge being capable of turning a man mad,” Laura said in a small voice, and Gladio glanced down long enough to see her troubled expression and Iggy stepping closer to put a hand on her shoulder. Huh. He’d never really thought to ask what she’d gone through those couple of weeks she’d been dead. He’d just assumed she’d been . . . dead. Even though he didn’t regret locking her up like he had, he still kinda didn’t like to think about his role in her recovery.

Gladio couldn’t say he was all that surprised when he looked back up at the screens to see Ravus being blasted out of the throne room by three liches; he only wished the guy’d been able to get in a few good licks to the Emperor beforehand.

When the screen dissolved into static again, he leaned forward and clicked on the next file. “There’s one more.”

It took him a second to recognize the heap on the floor, and he realized Ravus must’ve fallen from a high place when he’d been blown out of the throne room, given how heavily he was leaning against his sword, grunting in pain, as he struggled to get to his feet.

“Noct,” Iggy whispered, taking a step toward the screen as a second figure sauntered into view. “Where is this exactly?”

“It’s not Noct,” Gladio said. “File said this was recorded a while back . . . before Prompto was taken even.”

“The Chancellor? But surely he would know Lord Ravus is capable of recognizing him through his disguises. He did so in Altissia.”

“Doesn’t look like he was so lucky this time,” Gladio muttered as Ravus shakily held out King Regis’s sword to not-Noct.

 _“Now go forth, my king. Shine your light unto the world,”_ Ravus said with a shuddering breath.

There was no question of Ardyn’s true heritage when he summoned a Royal Arm and, in one swift, sure stroke, cut the glaive and Ravus’s Magitek arm clean at the joint. Picking up King Regis’s sword and driving it deep into the floor next to Ravus’s seemingly dead body, not-Noct’s voice slowly began to deepen, growing bitter and mocking as he spoke.

“You tried to save the world in my stead, but it wasn’t enough. The Crystal chose me—not you.”

By the time he rose to his full height, tossed a few papers casually over Ravus’s supine body, and waltzed off, not-Noct had fully melted into the Ardyn they all knew and hated.

“Aww, rejection hurts, doesn’t it?” Ardyn sneered as the screen went black.

“Looks like he’s really rubbing his hate and suffering into the other heirs of Eos,” Laura said, still looking up at the monitors. “Ravus . . . why did he even come back here if all he was going to do was die?”

“I get the impression he was inconsolable after Lady Lunafreya’s death,” Iggy answered. “Perhaps he wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Let’s move,” Gladio said, leading them toward the elevator in the corner. “If that’s what he did to Ravus, there’s no telling what he’ll do to Noct.”

“Fortunately for us, he needs Noct to get to the Crystal, so all he can do to make Noct suffer is to toy with the rest of us. I can only hope that Prompto isn’t bearing the brunt of it,” Iggy said as they stepped in. “In the meantime, Noct should be safe.”

“That’s a hell of an assumption!” Gladio growled as he glared at the two of their perfectly calm but perplexed expressions staring back at him—like _he_ was the one who was nuts. With a shuddering clank of metal gates, the elevator began to rise, and he took this moment of safety to close his eyes in an attempt to get a hold of himself.

Maybe he was the one going nuts. He usually had a better handle on himself than this.

He couldn’t take this shit anymore—the _knowing_ things from telepathy, aliens, other universes, visions, magic . . . the two of them were staking all their lives on something Gladio couldn’t know or understand, learn or even be a part of. Sure, he operated on instinct from time to time, but crunch time was here. The moment that Gladio’s entire life had been leading up to, where he was gonna have to stand beside the King and do what he needed to do to protect him was right. fucking. here, and they were stuck playing along with these games in this stupid ass maze and trying to rationalize the actions of a psychopath.

And Gladio had never wanted to do his duty more in his life—stick a sword in the man that was threatening his king, murder the creep for being the one that was gonna be responsible for Gladio failing in his life’s purpose, no matter how hard he tried or how much power he’d acquired. For all he’d been through these last few months, Gladio had _still_ never wanted to actually kill anything in his life except Laura . . . until now. At least he would be feeling something other than this fucking uselessness wandering these fucking halls and being deliberately led into a trap. As it stood right now, he was nothing but a Shield with no King to protect.

“A cargo bay, of sorts,” Iggy said when the elevator stopped and the doors opened. “Which means the Crystal must have passed through here at some point. Perhaps there’s a lift up ahead they might have used to take it up top.”

“That’s where you’re feeling it?” Gladio asked Laura with a weary sigh.

She nodded, staring right through him like she knew everything he was thinking.

“All right then. Let’s go. Guess we’re still headed in the right direction if Ardyn’s got company waiting here for us,” he replied, nodding toward the goblins and reapers growing up out of the concrete catwalks suspended over the cargo bay.

Again, the three of them were quiet as they progressed across the room, cutting their way through the waves of daemons. Gladio couldn’t decide if he was even more pissed off for the extra busywork or grateful for the opportunity to shove his mythril into something that sort of bled, but he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, so he kept at it, smirking to himself a little with each scratch of claws against his skin, each puncture wound from teeth.

Ardyn was gonna fucking pay for everything they’d all been through—especially Noct and Prompto. Yeah, he might not be able to kill him, but Gladio could make him suffer.

“Why do you insist on keeping up this mortal charade—with your adorable little swords?” Ardyn’s voice sounded over the speakers as they snuck warily past a line of quietly parked Magitek armors. Gladio held his breath as he thought he saw one twitch in the shadows. He dared it to fucking wake up and come at him.

“I grow ever so weary of your pretenses, my dear,” Ardyn continued. “That power of yours could end this on a mere whim.”

“And we grow tired of these games!” Laura called back up to him. “You want to chat again? Fine. Stop playing, come down here, and find me.”

“This must be the main elevator to the top of the Keep,” Iggy whispered, pointing to the massive cylindrical structure in the center of the next room. “We’re getting closer. Hurry!”

It wasn’t until the curved door closed around them, cutting them off in the confined space, that Ardyn’s voice oozed again over the speakers, making Gladio’s skin crawl.

“Perhaps another time. I _am_ busy with your other little friends at the moment. Had you been a little more cooperative, it could’ve been you and your dearest love I could be chatting with now.”

“Yes,” Iggy said quietly as though answering a question Laura hadn’t asked aloud. “We must be close.”

“How the hell can you two just keep . . . ignoring shit like that?” Gladio asked tilting his head to look up at the speaker grill.

Iggy turned to face him, his brow furrowing. “Screaming back at him is hardly going to do us any good, is it? And given the progress we’re making, it seems as though he means for us to reunite. Are you certain you’re all right?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, trying not to give himself away by clenching his jaw as he stepped out of the elevator and stalked his way across the raised gangplank . . .

. . . and into another maze of hallways filled with metal barrels, plastic storage tubs, propane tanks, and fucking hoses lying in the middle of the floor? Relief from that crawling, rolling, slimy feeling in his gut came in the form of another door in front of them sliding open to reveal another monitoring station—this time with a bank of screens showing nothing but the Crystal.

“Finally. There it is,” Gladio said, rushing to the computer banks. He scooped up the scattered papers and handed them to Laura, knowing that her alien reading speed would gather a helluva lot more information faster than he could.

“If it’s anything like the Citadel, there should be a barrier barring access,” Iggy said, moving to the next control panel and beginning to press a bunch of buttons like he knew what the fuck he was doing. “Yes, I think I should have it here in a few moments.”

“Listen to this,” Laura said, her eyes widening as she read one of the sheets Gladio had handed her. “’Wallbreaker Wave Test Report: The wave produced exceptional results in real-world conditions, effectively inhibiting the Kingsglaive's warping and spellcasting abilities—powers that operate on the selfsame principle as the Wall of Lucis. The report concludes that the wave can neutralize not only the Wall, but all magical phenomena exhibited by Lucian royalty. Moreover, based on the data acquired from the encounter with Shiva, an enfeebling effect on the Six can also be anticipated.’”

“The machine that won them the war, that’s responsible for us being rendered helpless . . . is the same machine they used to defeat the Glacian?” Iggy asked, turning to stare at Laura.

“Not just that. This Wallbreaker is likely the same machine they used to keep Eos in her place, too,” Laura replied.

“That thing pointed at the ground in Costlemark’s basement,” Gladio said. “Makes sense. Niflheim’s been stealing from Solheim’s old technology for years.”

“Yes,” Iggy said as he got back to work. “Likely led along by the Chancellor, who may have been around to see it the first time. All right. I believe I’ve got it.”

The three of them stared up at the screen as the large spherical room holding the Crystal became the focal point of the monitoring station, the red laser beams over its circular opening flickering for a moment before disappearing.

Finally—some progress.

“Good goin’, Ig.”

“And Noct is close. Very close,” Laura said, dismissing the papers. “Let’s go.”

But the second Gladio turned around, Laura held a hand out to stop him, staring at a spot on the floor.

“Thieves cannot escape the hand of justice!” the black puddle forming in the middle of the floor hissed.

Gladio eyed the thing as it grew up from the floor. He’d encountered one daemon before this that could talk—that naga from Fociaugh Hollow—but it hadn’t been quite so . . . lucid.

“The Crystal is mine. Never shall I loose my grip!” it roared as it took on . . . some kinda form Gladio had never seen before.

“What the hell is that thing?” Gladio asked quietly, turning his head toward Iggy and Laura, but he didn’t take his eyes off the skinless, slimy insectoid creature that kinda reminded him of the Ixali beastmen—but spikier, slimier, and definitely putting off scourge miasma.

To Gladio’s surprise, Iggy let off a cloudburst of sparkling gold dust as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “And what the hell was _that_?”

Really, at this point, Gladio was just waiting for the day when Iggy just came out and confessed he was one of the Six.

“You learned to analyze,” Laura said in awe, her face transforming into a wondrous smile like there _wasn’t_ currently a monster taking form and preparing to bear down on them all.

Iggy nodded. “On the train. Not much you can do here, I’m afraid,” he said to Gladio as he pulled his daggers from their sheaths, “but I’ve got the lightning. Laura, I recommend you refrain from using magic this close to the Crystal.”

Laura pulled out her falchions in a flash of silver light and a little shriek on the air, and she winced a little at the sound. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Gladio stepped a little closer to her for a second before advancing on the daemon in front of him. Seemed like she wasn’t affecting his instinct in any kinda way like she did sometimes. Convinced he wasn’t suddenly gonna turn on her in the middle of battle, he put all his thought into the fight.

He had to trust that Ig knew what he was doing, the way he was zipping around the daemon, lightning striking the ground with every slice into the daemon’s wet flesh, because he was moving way too fast for Gladio to keep track of as he heaved his sword into its rubbery wing joints. He knew for a fact that even in the middle of a fight with another enemy, Laura would never get hit by friendly swings as she, too, flitted around the twelve-foot-tall creature, leaping onto its back, reaching around its torso, and slicing her blades across its chest.

Months of killing shit like this off, and they’d all gotten good at knowing when they’d worn a target down, at coordinating the attack to finish them off. As soon as that bony, withered body started sagging, the ribs under its skin heaving, Gladio caught the eyes of the other two and nodded. The tongues of lightning licking at Iggy’s blades seemed to brighten as Gladio hefted his sword over his head and brought it down hard in his impulse technique, sending rippling waves of force through the concrete to knock the daemon back. As he bent farther forward, he felt Laura hop up onto his back, using him as a springboard to leap at the daemon and slice a falchion across its neck, sending its head rolling across the floor before it disappeared in a pool of miasma. The body took a small, stumbling step forward on clawed feet before it, too, melted away, revealing Iggy’s brandished flickering blades.

“Good teamwork,” Gladio grunted. “That sounded like the Emperor’s voice.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we just killed the Emperor,” Laura said between heavy breaths, dismissing her blades.

When Iggy stepped up close to her, staring down under his lenses, Gladio said quietly, “Yeah, I know what you guys are talking about in there. Share the answer with the class.”

“It’s not a problem yet,” she said, raising her chin in defiance up at him. To his relief, her breath seemed to even out, but he knew that look.

“But it’s gonna be.”

She broke eye contact, walking to the door that would lead them further in. “Come on. Noct’s just a couple halls away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis’s Insignia: it’s stated in Prologue that Ignis mostly drove Noct around in his car. The reddit admins reminded me that we actually see Ignis’s car in Brotherhood. Is it still the same one after all these years? I’d like to think so, as those Quartz cars clearly last a while. Insignia is just what I decided to call it.
> 
> The convenience of how the Wallbreaker worked to give Ignis and Gladio their weapons back in game was just…wrong, as it’s a sort of AoE weapon, not point and shoot like that. So I changed how that worked for consistency’s sake. 
> 
> According to the incredible admins on the reddit server, the file in-game for those three-headed shark-dragons is labeled “gayla,” so that’s what I’m calling them.  
> I’ve mixed in documents that are actually found in the main part of Chapter 13.


	77. Chapter 77

_I can’t choose where I came from, but I can choose where I’m going._

Yeah, turned out that wasn’t quite as true as he’d thought.

No control over his own arms or legs. No ability to take action. This was probably what it really felt like to be an MT—a dead soul left to dangle in a metal contraption with no exposure to light or sensation.

At least losing the feeling from his fingertips to his ribs meant he couldn’t feel the stabbing pain from hanging with his boots brushing the bottom of this contraption anymore. Silver lining, right? He wasn’t really feeling much besides cold; not even his eye and nose were hurting from when that kaiser behemoth had made him crash the snowmobile. It seemed like the only torture there was left to feel was the thoughts beating at his brain meat. The slightly threatening bottles of chemicals lining the shelves, the sets of handcuffs, and the creepy table with torture instruments next to a tipped-over chair weren’t exactly improving the décor or helping boost his spirits. It was like a stage in this prison-like place, but he couldn’t decide if it’d been set to torture Noct or himself.

He’d always been better than anyone at torturing himself.

It was easy to name that feeling clawing at his chest because he’d been hanging there for what felt like days with nothing to do but feed it—fear. Was he gonna get rescued before he died of dehydration? Would they even _want_ to rescue him? What if Ardyn told them all what he was before he’d had a chance to explain that he hadn’t known? That he hadn’t lied to them all? It was gonna look like he’d turned on them.

Or even worse, what if they didn’t know yet, and he was gonna have to be the one to tell them? What if they didn’t believe him and just left him here in this creepy daemon apocalypse nightmare to die? As much as he wouldn’t blame them, he didn’t want to die. And now that the time for rescue or death was coming up quick, he wasn’t so sure anymore if he could handle watching their faces change as he told them what he was—that he was even more of a fake than he’d originally thought. No wonder it’d been so hard to make friends all his life: they’d probably all sensed deep down that he’d never been a person. He’d been a _thing_.

It’d been one thing to say he’d been born in Niflheim. Aranea had been born in Niflheim. He just hadn’t thought to ask her if she had a barcode tattoo on _her_ wrist, too—not that anything but this most recent little vacation would’ve cleared anything up.

Actually, a lot of things were starting to make sense about his life now. If a spy had stolen him from a lab in Niflheim and given him to his parents in Lucis, no way could they’ve been normal people, which might’ve explained why they were really never around. He shoulda known that the ‘secret research for the government’ that kept them poor enough to have to be at work at all hours of the day and night had been code for something—especially since they’d had enough money to live in the district that would send him to the same public school as the Prince of Lucis.

Even the way he’d suddenly felt so at home the first time he’d held a gun in his hand at the arcade, the way he’d always been a crack shot without having to think about it—he’d been born a killer without a killer’s instinct. He was good with machines because he fucking _was_ one.

Or something.

How did that work, really? Was he gonna grow up to look like that maniac? What if he actually went nuts like that guy did and turned on his friends? Maybe it _would_ be better if he died here. He just didn’t know anything anymore—except what he wanted. No fucking way did he wanna be MT Unit # 05953234. He was gonna be Prompto Argentum, Prince Noctis’s grateful and faithful sidekick.

Seriously, this was some kinda karma or something for liking comics so much, wasn’t it? He’d wanted to be more than what he was his entire life, and now he’d gotten his wish. Figured.

But he wasn’t stupid. When Ardyn had showed up to ‘rescue’ him from the behemoth and brought him to wherever the hell he was now to rot, he knew he was bait. He just wished he could do something about it—warn Noct that it was a trap, maybe rescue himself, or find some kinda way to save them all the trouble.

“Not exactly gonna be leaving this place a five-star review,” he chuckled nervously into the dark. “You’re sooo gonna lose your superhost status!”

Noct would come for him, right? He remembered what Iggy’d said about Ardyn being able to disguise himself or create illusions or something, so it’d just been that, right? Of course they’d come for him. Keep a positive attitude. He’d get rescued so he could tell Noct he wasn’t a fake and hadn’t been all along. He’d made his decision in the Fall when he’d first started killing MTs, reaffirmed that decision when he started killing Niflian soldiers, and solidified it when he shot a clone of himself in the head before heading off to kill . . . his creator. It was telling Noct that last part he wasn’t sure he could stomach . . ..

***

Something hit the back of his neck hard, and he flinched, digging the bars holding his ribs to the contraption he was strapped to deeper in. Had he fallen asleep? He was so gods damn tired, but he couldn’t be doing something dumb like falling asleep right now. He swore he could feel the thudding of boots on his skull as they got heavier and louder, and he figured this was probably the part where he’d start hallucinating. He hoped it got good soon; one of Iggy’s nice, hot meals would be so good right about now.

It was the knives stabbing him in the arms that really brought him to full awareness as he instinctively brought them forward to keep his face from hitting the concrete, but a pair of arms wrapped under his armpits and slowly lowered him to the floor. He guessed it was a good thing he couldn’t really feel anything below his ribs this time, since it was all he could do to keep from crying out and collapsing onto the ground once he’d been let go.

Cutting through the haze of agony were Gladio’s and Iggy’s voices.

“You all right?”

“Are you hurt? Do you need help?”

The pain pulsed as something warm gripped both his arms—over and over—working from his shoulders to his wrists in quick, tight squeezes, and he had to scrunch his eyes tighter and press his lips together to keep the whimper in his throat from escaping any more than it did.

“I know,” Laura murmured, pressing her lips to the top of his head. “I’m sorry, but this will help them feel better faster. You’re too worn down, and it’s been too long, so that potion could only do so much.”

“I’m fine,” he lied, pushing himself to his knees with a grunt and opening his eyes to see the rest of them standing over him and Laura as she continued to massage his trembling fingers.

“We were right,” he blurted out—because he swore being of use was gonna be the first thing he did when he got back together with everyone. “There was one of those [machine things](https://i.imgur.com/zY7geEG.jpg) at this Magitek production facility where I was . . . like the basement in Costlemark. And there was a . . . guy there. Trying to become immortal by turning himself into a huge daemon weapon thing.”

“That’s good to know, dear. Probably the Wallbreaker that took out Shiva,” she said gently, placing her hands on his cheeks. “But that’s not at all our priority right now. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Prompto met eyes with each of them one by one—all looking back at him with concern. Maybe they wouldn’t care about his real identity, maybe they would . . . but he wasn’t ready to find out just yet.

“Yeah,” he muttered before looking up to Noct. “Tell me. Were you worried about me?”

“Of course I was!” Noct scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. But Noct couldn’t know that his immediate response couldn’t’ve been a bigger relief to hear. “What kind of question is that?”

“Heh. Of course. That’s why you came. Like I believed you would.”

“Prompto,” Noct said softly, obviously at a loss for words, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. Noct might’ve gotten better at it lately, but he still kinda sucked talking about this stuff. Prompto decided to let him off the hook for coming up with something to say and spoke instead.

“That’s why I told myself I couldn’t die. Not until I could see you and hear you tell me I’m not a fake. That I’m the real me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Okay, so not exactly what he wanted to hear, but an apology was cool, too. It was kinda his own damn fault for not explaining _why_ he needed to be told he wasn’t a fake. Plus, thinking about it from Noct’s point of view, he guessed an apology would be all he’d want to say for the past week or whatever it’d been since he’d pushed him off the train.

“Don’t be. Everything’s all right now.”

Prompto fell back a little on his knees as Noct surged forward, throwing his arms around his shoulders and squeezing tightly. Yeah, it definitely hurt those bone-deep bruises he’d gotten from being thrown off the snowmobile, but damn, was it worth it.

As Prompto squeezed him in return, not even trying to hold back the burn in his eyes, Noct whispered, “I swear, I didn’t mean it. It was Ardyn.”

“I know, man. We’re good,” he chuckled, slapping him on the back as he pulled away. “Really.”

“Come on,” Laura said as she and Iggy pulled him to his feet. It was his legs’ turn to feel the tingling fire racing down to his toes as his knees buckled a little at taking on his weight, but he locked them tight and pushed through the pain by forcing a smile through his teeth.

Of course, she wasn’t fooled.

“There was a bunk room a few halls back. A decent meal and a good night’s rest is what you need.”

He couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of sleeping in a place like this, but he hadn’t had more than a few fitful dozings against an Ebony machine or on a cold cave floor since he’d last seen them. He wasn’t gonna admit it, but he was about ready to pass out on them all right here, right now.

“Will we be safe there? How come those places are safe, anyway?” Noct asked quietly once he’d grabbed his gun, wallet, and camera off the shelf. It was kinda weird Ardyn had left his personal items there so he could have them, but then he guessed this whole thing was a setup of some kind. He just couldn’t figure out what that guy’s angle was.

They all sneaked past the rows of cells, eyeing the sleeping, dead, or weak daemons languishing inside.

Sweet Six, that could’ve been him.

No, don’t think about that.

“I don’t know, exactly,” Laura whispered. “Some sort of magic related to the haven magic? The bulbs they use in the lights? Either way, I’ll keep watch tonight. It’s been far too long since you’ve all rested.”

“You got that right,” Noct sighed. “First thing tomorrow, we find this Wallbreaker thing and get the ability to summon back. Lucky I could use the Ring here . . . like he planned it that way or something.”

As Laura led them out of the prison, through some kinda monitoring room, and into the littered halls, Prompto turned to Noct. “Hey, thanks, by the way . . . you know, for sending Aranea to come and find me.”

“What?” Noct asked, furrowing his brow. He brought a hand up to tug at his bangs before looking away. “I, uh . . . didn’t send her. I didn’t know where you were. Here was pretty much our only option. Sorry.”

“Oh.”

Why had Aranea lied to him about that? How had she found him there? His thoughts flashed briefly to the image of Ardyn calling him forward to meet the maniac responsible for creating him. Could he have been fooled? So easily? But no . . . Aranea had helped him get his ass in gear, helped him kill that _thing_. He’d have to ask her what the hell the next time he saw her to clear it up.

The second those hissing metal doors closed behind him, Prompto dove for the nearest bunk, burying his head in the dusty-smelling, scratchy pillowcase and stretching his arms and legs as far out as he could. But a sudden flash of light and a whine made him sit up, and the hot, heavy aroma of something spicy tickled at his nose, almost making him swoon.

“Ohhhh, Six, is that peppery daggerquill rice?” Prompto asked, breathing in the scent. “Wait, you still got your powers?”

“Yes to both,” she said softly, summoning four mismatched, flower-patterned bowls he’d never seen before.

“You okay, Gladio?” Noct asked.

“Yeah,” Gladio said under his breath, but his fists were clenched tight on his knees as he leaned against the pole of his bunk.

Between Laura’s whining magic and her apparently not eating, Gladio’s clenched fists, them not having summoning powers, and Noct wearing the Ring, it sounded like a lot of shit had happened to them too while he’d been gone, but he wasn’t gonna ask and bring the mood any lower than it already was.

His mouth watered as the aroma of peppers and meat continued to fill their little haven, but he kept his eyes locked on a little tear in his jeans that had opened up near his left knee until a bowl of the steamy rice he’d been daydreaming about for days now slid under his field of view.

“Here you are. We happened to have your favorite on hand,” Iggy said quietly as he held the bowl out.

Prompto cupped the dish between his hands, letting the heat melt down into his joints as he rubbed his thumbs over the cheery yellow flower pattern and fought off the urge to just bury his face in his food like a dog.

“Thanks, Iggy,” he said back just as quietly, reaching out to take the spoon he was offering.

The awkward silence as everyone sat on beds and chairs to dig in might’ve made him uncomfortable any other day, but for the first time in like a week, he was safe-ish among friends, he was free, and he was shoveling food in his face as politely as he could manage so he wouldn’t piss Iggy off. He’d taken twelve bites, chewing at least four times before swallowing, when the conversation finally started up.

“So what’re the plans?” Gladio sighed.

“Get cleaned up as best we can without access to the armiger, sleep, take care of the Wallbreaker, and take back the Crystal,” Iggy answered, not looking up from his bowl. “Though I expect we’ll meet Ardyn along the way.”

“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna quit with that ‘Chancellor’ shit.”

“With his true nature revealed and the Emperor defeated, I suppose it was long-past due.”

Noct raked his fork through the grains unenthusiastically. “That big thing you feel, Laura—that’s coming up tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“Yes, a fixed point. But I swear, I don’t know what it is yet.”

“What ‘big thing’?” Prompto asked in dread.

Because the last time Laura had felt a ‘big thing’ coming up that she was even willing to acknowledge, their entire world fell to pieces, and even though they’d all managed to pull themselves back together, the world had only continued to disintegrate around them.

Noct let out a long, shuddering sigh into his bowl. Without looking up, he said, “I’m gonna die tomorrow, Prom.”

“No, you’re _not_ ,” Iggy practically shouted over Laura’s “I don’t think so.”

Prompto couldn’t really put a finger on the exact second he’d realized that whatever epic quest they’d been sent on was gonna end up killing his best friend in the world, maybe even killing all of them. It’d been a thought lurking around the corner of their every interaction since Insomnia fell. And even though he tried to avert his eyes on the walk here, they couldn’t help but catch that black metal on Noct’s middle finger. He certainly hadn’t wanted to ask about it when he really knew what it meant.

So even though the floor dropped from underneath his boots and that fucking burn in his eyes resurfaced as he tried to raise his head to keep the tears from falling, it wasn’t as much of a blow as he’d expected it to be, hearing it for sure for the first time. _Tomorrow_ , though? Prompto knew he’d never be ready, even if they had a hundred years, but this was too soon. _Way_ too soon.

Gladio looked pissed as hell, gritting his teeth and glaring up at the ceiling like he was about ready to punch something. Noct was shaking his head like Laura and Iggy didn’t know what they were talking about, and Iggy looked like he was gonna fling himself to Noct’s chair and shake him to death, demanding he take it back.

Prompto looked to Laura because he was just confused now, and she was the girl to ask about future stuff.

“It’s only a fixed point tomorrow that has to do with you, not your death,” Laura said, glaring over at Noct, who was still shaking his head in denial. “You were older in the vision Ignis and I saw when it . . . happened.”

“And we _will_ avert it,” Iggy growled.

“Ignis,” Laura sighed, closing her eyes in exasperation before looking back to Noct, “I swear we’ll try, Noct, we will, but in seven thousand years of doing this, I have _never_ seen it happen successfully.”

“And if we do it unsuccessfully?” Gladio asked.

“The world will end, but more than that,” Laura said heavily. “We could destroy this entire universe.”

Prompto counted out seven beats of painful silence before Noct blew out a breath. “Yeah, don’t do that. Not for me. I mean . . . if it’s safe, sure. I’d rather not die if I can help it, but if we all die anyway, what good would that do?”

“I didn’t mean . . .,” Iggy began, but Noct interrupted.

“I know what you guys think, but I know what I feel. It’s like . . . time is chasing me down. Ever since that first tomb, it’s been stalking me like a coeurl, haunting me. Something’s telling me . . .,” his voice broke as he looked down at his empty bowl, “that this is my last night with you guys.”

No one knew what to say to that. This had always been bigger than all of them, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Noct, whose life had always been on borrowed time. It wasn’t fair to Iggy or Gladio, who’d been raised from birth for a job they were destined to fail. It wasn’t even fair to Laura, having to go through all this shit when it wasn’t even her world.

And it wasn’t fair to him. The one person in the world who’d noticed him, who’d accepted him from the very beginning—he was gonna lose that no matter how hard he tried to keep him.

“Someone once told me that time was a predator that stalked us all our lives,” Laura said softly, breaking the silence. “But I rather believe that time is a companion who goes with us on the journey and reminds us to cherish every moment because they'll never come again.”

“Make now _always_ the most precious time,” Iggy agreed.

There was another minute of almost touchable silence before Laura stood and began collecting their bowls. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. I think I have enough shorts and t-shirts for you all to sleep in . . . except maybe you, Gladio. You guys can shower in that excuse for a water closet over there, and I’ll clean your clothes while you sleep tonight.”

“S’all right. I can keep my tighty-whities so I won’t offend anyone’s delicate sensibilities,” Gladio chuckled. “Thanks, Princess.”

“Nothin’ better than bein’ clean for a new day!” Prompto said brightly, but he thought he might’ve overdone the false cheer a little as his words settled weirdly between them all.

Laura set the dishes aside before turning to him, holding out her hands and summoning what looked like a black pair of boxers and a red t-shirt. She was obviously trying to ignore the whine of her magic, so he did too—but he eyed Iggy nervously before looking back down at the fabric.

“Um . . . these aren’t Iggy’s, are they?”

“Exactly what are you implying?” Iggy asked indignantly.

“No! It’s fine. It’s just . . . you know, wearing another guy’s shorts . . . kinda against the code.”

“I’m . . . not even going to ask,” she said with a little giggle, shaking the bundle in front of him. “I do have some of Ignis’s clothes with me, but these are mine. A girl can slum it a little too, you know.”

“Are you certain this is a good idea?” Ignis asked as Prompto took the bundle from her. “If we’re caught unawares . . ..”

“Then the worst that could happen is that you’re slightly underdressed for battle,” Laura interrupted. “Honestly, it’s not as though we were truly ever safer from random people in a haven or anything, and those jeans and silk don’t exactly do much to protect you, anyway.”

“Oh, gods, I sooo didn’t need to know that about the haven thing,” Prompto exclaimed in horror. “I never even thought of that.”

“And it won’t be an issue because I am, and always have been, keeping watch. Now, go on.”

The ten minutes he spent behind that little tile partition, the hot water beating down on the bruises and making the half-healed cuts on his face tingle, were definitely in the top ten most conflicting moments of his life—so relieved to be among friends and yet . . . it wasn’t gonna last long, was it? He had to tell them before whatever happened tomorrow actually happened, but he couldn’t just bring up that kinda shit on what Noct thought was his last night of his life.

Fuck, he was about to collapse right here in this shower cubicle. How could he make this a night to remember? Getting wasted and singing stupid songs at the dark would be a good idea if they weren’t half-dead and in this boss-level dungeon.

All he could think of was plopping down next to Noct after he’d taken his turn showering and bumping him with his shoulder. “You wanna play a game? I’d have to see if I could borrow Iggy’s or Gladio’s phone, and we’d both have to play with the AI, which kinda sucks, but . . ..”

“Thanks, but I’m kinda worn out.”

“The Ring?”

Instead of answering, Noct took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. Prompto sat there, useless, fighting between passing out and finding something to distract him when Noct spoke.

“It’s okay. Just being here with you guys is enough.”

It seemed like none of them wanted to go to sleep once they’d all showered, and after Laura had dumped all their clothes into buckets to get soaking, they sat in a circle on beds and chairs again, trying not to look at each other. But no one knew what to do, what to say to break the pall hanging over them all.

Iggy clenched his jaw and sighed. “Make now always the most precious time,” he murmured before gently clearing his throat. “I do realize the timing of this may seem somewhat inappropriate, given our current circumstances, but if I am to do this, there are no three people in this world I would rather have here right now.”

Without giving anyone a chance to ask what was going on, he slipped off the bed and got down on one pajama-legged knee. Taking both of Laura’s hands in his, he looked up into her questioning face.

“Rose, given that Ardyn already knows of us and cannot wish to do us any more harm than he already does, it has become a more pressing matter that I do this while we’re all together.”

He reached for his wallet on the little table next to the bunk and pulled something out before returning to her.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I should very much like it if you wore my ring—and, one day, when you’re more prepared, if I wore yours.”

“Aren’t you guys already married?” Noct muttered under his breath, but Gladio shushed him.

A slow, sparkling smile spread over Laura’s face as she looked down at Iggy, making Prompto’s chest throb a little. Gods, just _once_ , he would give anything in the world for someone to look at him like that. It was like Iggy was the center of her entire universe.

“It would be my greatest honor,” she said, bringing a hand up to cup the side of his face, and Iggy let out a whoosh of a breath. Seriously, did he think she was gonna say no?

Prompto swore Iggy’s hands were trembling a little as he slid the ring on her finger. It looked really old and a little worn—the simple mythril scrollwork carved on the bands beginning to smooth out with time, but the diamond in the center glittered in the low light as he spoke in a deep, quivering voice.

“With my king and liege bearing witness, with this humble ring, I, Ignis Scientia, Duke of Kettier, freely and unreservedly take thee, Laurelín Ni’annen as my wife.”

Gladio grunted a chuckle. “What? No grand declarations of undying love?”

“Yeah, kinda disappointed, Specs,” Noct said with a wistful, misty kinda smile. “I was expecting some poetry or something at least.”

“I’m _still_ waitin’ on the kiss, to be honest,” Prompto added. “If you’re not gonna go all hearts and flowers.”

Iggy turned around to give them all a withering look. “What could I possibly have to say to her that she doesn’t already know?” Turning back to Laura, he said, “I’m afraid I was terribly rude for springing this on you without allowing you the chance to have anything prepa—"

“Ignis Scientia, shut up,” she interrupted, beaming down at him. “Do you know how much of those twelve years I spent thinking about your hands?”

Holding out two fingers, she summoned a ring—mythril with an onyx band through the center and swirls of tiny diamonds that made it shimmer like stars.

The rush of a whispered word was so quiet that Prompto almost hadn’t heard it.

“Rose.”

As she slid the ring on his finger, she said, “And I, Laurelín Ni’annen, freely and unreservedly take you, Ignis Scientia, Duke of Kettier, as my husband, with your king and liege bearing witness.”

Prompto couldn’t see too much from his angle as Iggy pulled his hand back to inspect the ring closely, but those green eyes were lit up with the kinda pride and joy Prompto had never seen in him. The sight broke his heart—seeing the guy he’d once thought was cold and scary kneeling in front of the woman he loved and asking her to be his right here in the middle of this hellhole. There was no black velvet or white silk, no swelling harmonies of violins, no expensive imported flowers or seafood like he would’ve expected a guy as stylish as Iggy to have for a wedding. The contrast of it did kinda seem weird but also right. It was nothing but the five of them against the dark . . . as it had been from the beginning.

And it was the most beautiful thing he’d seen so far on this trip. They’d turned this room of doom and gloom into joy. How had they done that?

Even more amazing, they’d chosen to wait until they’d gotten him back to do this.

“Is it all right?” Laura asked softly, her brows pinching together a little as Iggy continued to stare down at the ring.

“It’s _beautiful_.”

“I noticed you had a weakness for things that sparkle.”

Iggy slowly reached up with his newly-ringed hand to brush his fingertips along her cheek, just under her eye, and the tenderness of it made Prompto wanna cry for some reason.

“Yes, I do.”

“Gross. I hope you guys know you’re sickening.”

The magic suddenly broken, Iggy pulled back from Laura and rolled his eyes. “Yes, that was exactly the blessing from the King I was hoping to hear.”

“Oh yeah,” Noct said, twisting his lips into an awkward grimace. “Um . . . by the power vested in me, I, Noctis Lucis Caelum, King of Lucis, pronounce you man and wife with my blessing. I uhh . . . bestow upon Laurelín Ni’annen Scientia the title of Duchess of Kettier, along with the associated privileges and expectations of such.” After a brief pause, he bit his lip and asked, “Did I do that right?”

“Near enough,” Iggy said with a broad smile. “I do thank you, immensely, Majesty.”

“All right, fuck this shit,” Gladio said, rubbing at his eye. “It’s the weirdest wedding I’ve ever been to, but you _gotta_ kiss. Just once, you guys.”

Prompto had only seen Iggy and Laura kiss once—right after Pitioss, but it was still weird to see them smile at each other with so much joy in this shitty place, slide their hands up to caress each other’s faces, and press their lips together like they were each drawing life and strength from the connection. If he could never have that for himself, he wanted to remember it forever.

“Oh, shit,” he whispered, scrambling for his camera on the table and managing to get in a few shots before they pulled apart.

Laura gave Iggy one last kiss on the forehead before he got up off the floor to sit down on the bed again. “All right, you three,” she said with a chuckle. “Think that’s about all the mush you boys can handle for one night. It’s bed time.”

But Prompto kept snapping pictures at the two of them sitting on the bed next to each other—with Iggy’s smile so wide his eyes were crinkling at the corners and Laura’s face glowing with life.

It was almost enough to keep him from thinking about having to sleep in a place like this with _those_ memories still stirring at the surface of his thoughts.

“Gotta admit, pretty wiped, but of all the shitty places we’ve slept, this one’s the shittiest,” Gladio grumbled as he crawled into his bunk.

Noct shot Prompto a matching look of dread over Laura covering Iggy with a sheet, but Laura caught the exchange, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“I could put you all to sleep telepathically, if it would help—keep watch over your dreams. You’re going to need to be at your best to prepare for whatever’s coming tomorrow.”

“So you’d be like . . . watching our dreams?” Prompto asked nervously. He didn’t know _what_ kinda effed up stuff his mind would probably make of his experience over the past week now that he had a chance to really sleep, but he definitely wasn’t ready to share it with anyone.

Laura shook her head. “No. Your dreams are a bit too personal for me to just intrude on like that. More like monitoring your brainwave patterns and making adjustments, keeping you in a deeper sleep.”

“I’ll take that,” Noct said immediately, and her eyes darted over to him lying in his bunk, staring at the mattress above. Her expression softened to pity and something else—something like affection—before she nodded.

“Yeah, me too,” Prompto said, picking at the corner of the sheet. “Thanks, Laura.”

“Think I’ll be okay without the dream thing,” Prompto heard Gladio mutter from his bunk, “but I could probably stand to be put under.”

Prompto bit his lip as Laura went from bed to bed, placing a hand to each temple briefly as Iggy, Gladio, and Noct immediately closed their eyes and went limp. Instead of leaning over him when his turn came, she settled on the bed next to his head, and he scooched over to make room for her to pull her knees up.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asked gently.

Prompto sighed, choosing to stare at the metal grating and grey fabric of the bunk above instead of looking into her eyes.

“How much can you tell, looking at me?”

It was always kinda unclear on how much she could sense by just looking at a person. He’d always just trusted her not to look into his head, and he’d never actually felt anything like she said he would if she ever did try. He went rigid for a second, waiting for whatever feeling to crawl over his brain now that he’d given her permission as he scrunched his eyes tight, but he didn’t notice any change.

“I can tell you’ve been through a lot. You’re shaken,” she said, placing a hand on his forehead. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Prompto chuckled up at her, meeting those large, pitying eyes. He hadn’t wanted to make her feel sad. “Hey, gotta watch over Noct first, right? Can’t keep us all in line.” But once he looked away again, he asked in a quieter voice, “No, but I mean . . . what do you see when you look at my mind? Like, what kind of person am I?”

“Sweetheart,” she breathed in the kind of voice that reminded him of what a mom should sound like, and he had to hold back those fucking tears welling in his eyes at her tone, “you _know_ what kind of person you are. I can see it shining in your mind as plainly as I see it shining through your eyes. You _are_ love, Prompto.”

But was it real if he was doing it to be loved back? Was it real if he wasn’t even real?

“What if you were wrong about me though? What if I told you it was all fake?”

He looked up at her in time to see her close her eyes and shake her head. “I wouldn’t believe you. Even the most cunning person couldn’t lie to me like that for as long as I’ve been around you. Your heart is embedded in your every action, your every sacrifice.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m awesome like that,” he chuckled.  

He imagined blurting it out to her right here, right now . . . _I was supposed to be an MT_. What would her reaction be? He bet that loving expression would morph to horror and disgust faster than he could say ‘lol jk.’ He turned away from the idea of it, away from the sight of her staring down at him with that love he didn’t deserve—even if he had decided he wanted it.

“You should tell us whatever it is that’s bothering you, you know. When you’re ready. It’ll make you feel better to get it out and know that it changes nothing.”

Her hand had slid to the hair on the side of his head when he’d turned away, but instead of pulling back, she curled her fingers into his scalp, stroking and scratching lightly in a way that sent a shiver over his skin. No one had ever done this to him, touched him like this, and he sighed into the contact.

“You should put me under and get back to Iggy,” he said reluctantly after a minute. “Don’t you have somewhere to take him tonight?”

But she didn’t remove her hand as she replied, “I’m with him now . . . sort of. We’re never really apart, you know. He wants me here with you, too.”

Prompto furtively glanced over to where Iggy lay in the bunk across, his arms wrapped around a spare pillow and his expression peaceful.

“Where’d you take him?”

“He’s home, for now, working on something he wants to give me. We might go somewhere later if he’s feeling up to it.”

It was just so weird to imagine—traveling from this apocalyptic nightmare to the comfort and safety of home in a matter of seconds—but then he guessed they’d all gotten used to grabbing hold of whatever happiness zoomed past on this terrifying journey and clinging to it for as long as they could. The nights by the campfire, chatting over a bowl of Iggy’s rice or a cup of Laura’s tea, sparring in the mornings, singing obnoxious songs on the radio just to make Iggy frown and Noct laugh, even some of the hunts they went on—they were all those little things that made stuff like the last week worth it, worth everything.

Tomorrow. He’d tell them tomorrow.

“Think I’m ready now,” he said, closing his eyes as her fingers slid from his hair to his temple.

“Sleep well, dearest. I’ll be keeping watch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that Prompto’s feelings of being an MT, of being a thing, are his opinions in this chapter and not mine. I am definitely aware that he is fully human.
> 
> Time is a predator quote from Star Trek.
> 
> The machines in Costlemark and the MT Production Facility—I imagine they're just MT generators, but roll with me here.
> 
> So…that prologue, eh? I had always intended to break canon with Ardyn/Solheim/the gods/the Crystal/the scourge, and this merely reaffirms it. So don't assume what happened in the prologue has happened here.


	78. Chapter 78

Laura opened her eyes to the crisp, chill air; the scent of apples on her tongue; that bright, golden light of autumn at noon; and his warm, heavy arms wrapped around her as he breathed at her back.

“Did you finish what you needed to?” she asked, adjusting herself so she was tucked between his side and the back of the plush sofa. Nuzzling aside the unbuttoned collar of his white linen shirt, she nestled her nose in the hollow just above his warm collarbone.

She could hear the frown in his voice as he said, “Yes. I do hope I didn’t leave you with _too_ many tasks out there. What sort of a husband am I?”

“The kind who needs to recuperate after using elemental power today. Dishes and laundry are done. I even found some stores of ammunition for Prompto’s gun in the cabinet. How’s your head?”

“Mmmm,” he murmured into her hair, pressing soft lips to her temple, “you know, it’s much better now.”

“I wish you didn’t have to use the Crystal’s power when I can’t bear the brunt of the cost. I know you limited it, but still . . . it kills you both a little each time you do that through him.”

“Needs must, I’m afraid,” he sighed. “I shall limit my usage to that amount which keeps us alive—no more, but certainly no less.”

“I know.”

The wind blew through the trees, whipping eddies of red and gold across the wide-open balcony and bringing in a fresh wave of cool air and that incomparable scent of fall. Despite the beauty and peace of the moment, every mind in her vicinity was dark: Gladio’s fear and frustration, Prompto’s horror and despair, Noct’s dread and resignation, Ignis’s empathy and melancholy—and farther away, _someone’s_ wild half-daemonized anguish. Even Eilendil, picking at his silver claws in his space above them, was imagining with a wistful longing flying out with his people to the Thalassian Islands to collect the down left by migratory geese to use in their winter nests as he normally would be doing this time of year.

“I’d never seen His Majesty channel the power of the Ring like that,” Ignis said heavily. “The way his eyes glowed as a covenant with a god, the . . . cracks of power breaking him apart. He really isn’t as human as I thought.”

His mind colored with black grief as the image of an older Noct breaking apart at those very seams and falling to ashes and phosphorescent petals flashed across their bond.

“But not divine enough, it would seem,” he finished forlornly.

Laura brought a hand up to settle on his cheek, rubbing a thumb across the bone as he closed his eyes. “If Shiva is to be believed, not even the immortal on this planet will survive in their current forms.”

“Yes, and little comfort that news brought. If even the immortal won’t survive, how on Eos can we expect to avert Noct’s fate?”

“I don’t know yet, love, but you need to be prepared for the very real possibility that we may fail.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “But I have faith. And that isn’t all that’s been weighing heavy on my thoughts.”

“Gentiana.”

“I hadn’t noticed before because she never made direct eye contact with anyone, but earlier today, it was made rather apparent.”

“I don’t know, Ignis. I wish I knew what to tell you.”

“She must be harboring _some_ sort of ill will, despite her insistence otherwise.” He clenched his teeth and shook his head in frustration. “What other explanation could there possibly be for her to make eye contact with the three of you but refuse to meet mine, even when I spoke directly to her?”

He wasn’t looking for an answer from her as he glared up at the ceiling, so she stayed silent, breathing in his sweet herbal scent and grazing her lips soothingly across the pebbled skin of his neck.

“I know,” he said after a few moments. “I’m casting a pall on what is to be an evening of celebration. Fixed point aside, we’ve all reunited, and you agreed to marry me in front of witnesses.”

“If you’ll recall, I had agreed to it from the very beginning.”

Ignis tightened the arm around her waist as he idly edged a finger over her tapered ear point. “I don’t think you realize just how much that means. Thank you. And . . . now that I know how circumstances have turned out, thank you for staying behind when Prompto fell. I’m aware the choice to respect my request can’t have been an easy one.”

“You were right. I wasn’t. It was as simple as that.” Even so, she couldn’t shake the notion from her mind that she’d failed both Prompto _and_ Noct spectacularly these past few days.

Bubbling teal of incredulity and the slightest sienna of smugness colored his thoughts at her words, as it wasn’t often he could best her in opinion and logic—in his mind, anyway.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she chuckled in breathy puffs against his skin, and he tilted his head to rest against hers as he sighed. “Did you have a mood word for tonight? Or I could start a fire, and we could spend all evening on the couch snogging like teenagers.”

“I’m not certain even a chaste snog wouldn’t be too much to keep my lips sealed back in the real world,” he said, his lips quirking up against her forehead. “But my gift for you is completed, with Eilendil’s assistance, and I suppose I should like to do something befitting to celebrate our nuptials after that . . . rather untraditional ceremony.”

Laura grinned against his neck, dragging her hand down to where she could watch the diamond shimmer on her finger as she tickled at Ignis’s honey-colored chest hair. He caught her bubbling thread of joy and echoed it back, surprised that she would find something as mundane as a strip of metal and rock around her finger as deeply meaningful as she did when his deep crimson had been shining in her head for months now. Of course, he didn’t realize that a portion of that joy stemmed from the fact that there now existed photographic evidence of Ignis Scientia getting married in his pajamas—with the Shield of Lucis in his underwear and the King and Prompto wearing hers.

She’d let him come to that realization in his own time.

“Perhaps . . .,” he trailed off, tugging her up the length of his body a little until she was level with his cheek. With the smallest of deep, vibrating hums at the back of his throat, he turned on her, pressing cool, soft lips against hers and pushing her deeper into the back of the couch. _Perhaps a **touch**_ _of snogging before I present my bride with her gift._

Laura groaned a little into his mouth as he moved to hover over her, propping himself up on one hand and running another over her face tenderly. Control. She had to maintain control of herself, especially as her physical body was currently sitting in a chair next to Prompto, getting up every now and then to make adjustments to his and Noct’s turbulent brainwave patterns each time they indicated they were about to slip into a nightmare.

But he was so alive and soft and gentle and _him_ over her, between her lips—her favorite skin-tight silk waistcoat slipping under her hands as she ran them over his lithe body. His warm, wet tongue was flicking out delicately to taste her, teasing her with the intense coffee flavor he somehow always had in this world of theirs. He did it again, and she retaliated—sucking his tongue into her mouth, entwining her flavor and his.

Much to her chagrin, Ignis pulled back when she felt him stirring against her thigh. “We should get started, if the evening is to be cut short by your guest as you suspect,” he said, standing and straightening his waistcoat, collar, and sleeves before smoothing the fabric down the length of his torso.

She lay there transfixed, watching him run his hands over the sleek lines of his body and quietly nursing that burn for him. “Yes, I have somewhere I’d like to take you, if there’s time,” she managed to say after several moments.

He frowned down at her as she sat up. “Are you certain it’s prudent for you to meet him alone with the rest of us vulnerable like this?”

“It’s the best way to get the truth out of him. He’s starting to see me as some sort of equal, I think, and he can drop the air of performance. Plus, he gave them back to us. It’s not like he would have a reason to take anyone now.”

“I must say, that the others allowed you to put them under with him coming was nothing short of astounding.”

“Bloody hell,” she spat, closing her eyes as her heart dropped to her feet. “We forgot to tell Prompto in all the mess. Oh my god, how could I have done that?”

Ignis leaned over the edge of the mahogany Kawai baby grand, removing the violin case from the bookshelf and laying it across the piano bench. “I wouldn’t have encouraged you to deceive him beforehand, but now that it’s done, it may be for the best for him to not know until after it’s happened.”

She sighed, hating that she’d been unintentionally dishonest but knowing he was likely right.

“We’ll bring him up to speed, and he’s getting a night’s rest free of worry,” he said consolingly, unsnapping the case and plucking out the bow. “In the meantime, you need to relax yourself, and Eilendil has assisted me in preparing this for you.”

A whoosh of air on the balcony followed by the clatter of claws on the polished wood made her turn her head to see a golden retriever-sized Eilendil slither-waddle inside. Without a word, he made his way to the fireplace, breathed into the hearth, and curled on the hearthstone next to the piano with a deep sigh.

 _Of course you would choose a husband so inept as to need assistance in preparing a wedding gift_ , Eilendil grumbled.

“Just be grateful I’ve made you appear prepared with a gift rather than being caught unawares.”

 _You have been married for months by the customs of our planet. I was hardly caught unawares,_ he said with a smoky huff.

“My boys,” Laura said with a fond smile, resting her chin against her palm as she leaned over the arm of the couch. “I love to see you two getting along so well.”

“Eilendil was kind enough to agree to play back a sort of recording of my piano playing, as I have my doubts I can play it back myself perfectly while distracted with the violin.”

“Tell me about this piece. You’ve been careful not to play too much of it in my presence.”

Ignis lowered the bow from his violin and stared at a spot on the floor near the couch. A delicate flush of pink spread over his cheeks as he tilted his head. “It is . . . me,” he said with a tiny shrug, “and everything I ever wanted, selfish though it sounds.” A frown tugged the corners of his mouth down as he said, “Come to think of it, this _is_ rather self-centered for a wedding gift . . ..”

“Not in my mind. What more could I ask for? Please,” she gestured toward his violin, “play me yourself, love.”

He nodded once, still frowning, before he took his stance and let his eyes unfocus.

Despite only having known him for four months, Laura felt that she knew his heart and mind better than most. Everything he ever wanted? That was to see Noct free of all burdens, to see everyone he ever cared for safe and happy—and, if there was a sliver of spare goodwill to go around, he might like to see a little happiness for himself, if it wasn’t too much trouble.

His long lashes fluttered against his cheeks as the muscles in his forearms twitched with the draw of the bow across the strings. He swayed with the melody of the piano and deep, soulful caramel of the violin—as humbly unassuming as the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ru3-_g4xyy4) as he was pulling from the instruments. It wasn’t a joyous cacophony or a grand declaration; the sound of his soul was a gentle whisper, a humble plea, quietly offered up to the sky in a wistful, sweet tinkling of piano chords and slow, delicate glide of strings.

The song was rather short—a polite statement of what he wanted from this life and no more, no embellishments or fanciful frills, no repetition, unassuming in its simplicity.

“Ignis,” she whispered when he’d finished and gave another bashful, half-hearted shrug.

What wouldn’t she give to be able to deliver that desire? To answer that selfless request and fulfill every wish in his kind and gentle heart?

“Anyway, that’s what I’ve been working on,” he said softly, turning his back to her to place the violin back in its case. “Would that I could offer you more. You have my thanks, Eilendil, for the assistance.”

Eilendil bowed his head, closing his eyes. _It was the most expedient way to get some peace and quiet around here,_ he grumbled.

She was there behind him when he turned around, flinging her arms around his neck and burying her face at the base of his throat, breathing deep underneath his collar and murmuring across his skin.

“That was lovely. You’re so very lovely,” she said between gentle kisses, letting her arms drift down to wrap tightly around his waist as his enveloped her.

“I appreciate you taking the time to listen to that.”

“The honor is mine. You have no idea. Are you feeling up to a trip somewhere? I’d like to take you to the planet Pensacola for dinner, if that’s all right?”

“I suppose it’s fortunate the calories won’t count, as we’ve only just eaten” he said with an amused chuckle, closing his eyes. “Very well, show me Pensacola.”

Laura sent a mental thanks to Eilendil before changing the scene to a long, narrow, cramped room—with three rows of stainless-steel countertops covered in various ingredients, industrial sinks filling enormous pots of water, grills giving off shimmering mirages of heat, and stations of dishes and utensils in various stages of preparation. The air was almost thick enough to touch with the humidity and scent of cooking food, and the too-small space seemed to be alive with bustling chefs as they zoomed back and forth in controlled panic to complete their assigned tasks for the evening.

“ _This_ is the planet Pensacola?” Ignis asked, leaning over the stove to eye a young Gliboidian stirring a saucepan of beurre blanc furiously.

“The planet Pensacola, 68th century, and we’re in the kitchen of _LeShef_ , named ‘Best Restaurant in the Universe’ a hundred years in a row now. I thought, perhaps, a quick chat before we have a meal?”

“With the head chef?” Ignis asked hopefully, his viridian eyes lighting up and his lips parting to reveal just a hint of a toothy smile.

“An approximation. She never traveled on the TARDIS, so her personality will be based more on my perception of her than actual fact.”

Ignis looked up suddenly at the sound of a motorized whine rising over the din of the fifteen people shouting and moving back and forth in the tiny room, and he raised his chin higher in an attempt to see over the crowd.

“Will you MOVE?” a hoarse female voice bellowed over the whine.

The kitchen went nearly silent as the group parted to let the cephalopodean woman pass, her motorized tank coming to an abrupt halt in front of Ignis and nearly splashing him with a wave of seawater as the momentum caught up with her.

“So, I see you’ve finally decided to pay us a visit,” Sally barked at Laura. The stern glare of her orange, bulbous eyes didn’t change, but the skin of her mantle flushed in what was, for her species, a broad smile. Laura laughed as two damp tentacles reached for her shoulders and tugged her closer to the tank of water . . . the only sort of hug a sea creature could share on land.

“I’ve been saving you for a special occasion!”

She pulled back to watch Ignis, who, having grown used to meeting beings of all shapes and sizes, bowed respectfully. “Ignis Scientia, at your service.”

“Ohh, Laurelín, he’s _perfect_ ,” she cooed through the speaker attached to the front of the tank. “Sally Gordon’s the name. A cephalopodean— _not_ an octopus, do you hear me?”

“Of course,” he said with a nod.

“So,” she said sharply, turning to the kitchen station they were standing next to, “Seafood is a given, elsewise you wouldn’t have brought him here. You’ll have my very freshest, of course. Except for the sushi, and you’d know all about that. I’ll be preparing a special vegetarian menu for you and your dreadful tastes, of course.”

As she spoke, Sally pushed all eight of her tentacles through the force-field holes in her tank—grabbing a gorboar root to dice, reaching for a spoon to stir a boiling pot of soup on the stove, pulling out an enormous nephropida to begin prepping it for Ignis’s meal, and snapping tips off haricots verts.

“Do you mean to say that fresh fish is not best for sushi?” Ignis asked politely, his eyes darting back and forth in an attempt to intensely analyze Sally’s every move.

“Seas, no, child! Fresh fish has no flavor. It must be flash frozen and allowed to sit and age at least seven of your days to develop the flavor.”

“I had no idea,” he said, blinking down at her. “When I learned to craft sushi to assist Noct with his part-time job, the restaurant there always brought the fish in daily from the Allural Deep to be prepared that evening.”

“Then they’re ignorant,” Sally snapped. “You’ll see. I’ll send out a special course before your meal. And the signature dish for dessert, of course. Now, shoo! I’ll send Rejibit out shortly.”

“Thanks, Sally,” Laura said, reaching for Ignis’s hand and leading him toward the back door. She stopped in front of the non-descript, white metal door and turned to look up into his curious face. “Shoes off.”

He merely raised an eyebrow at her before complying, blinking away his black boots with the sort of defiant confidence he could only display here in this world of dreams as he stood barefoot in the kitchen of the top restaurant in the entire universe.

“Am I otherwise appropriately dressed for the occasion?” he asked, glancing down at his dark jeans, black waistcoat, and linen dress-shirt.

“Yes, you look stunning, as always,” she said, but she frowned down at her yoga pants and stretchy sweater. “Though I could use some work.”

She blinked, changing her attire to a long cream-colored dress with her favorite sort of diaphanous skirt and a neckline that fell off her shoulders. Ignis’s eyes dropped to the flash of color by her bare feet as the skirt swirled to rest—embroidered purple flowers lining the hem and rising up in a gradient of crimson to tangerine to bright gold. She’d always loved that she’d finally found someone that appreciated her flair for the dramatic.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, sweeping back a wave of the dark hair that hung to her elbows to cup the side of her face. But anything she could recreate here in this world was nothing compared to that light in his eyes that she’d never grow tired of seeing.

“Come on. ‘Beautiful’ is out here,” she said with a grin, pushing the metal bar that would open the door.

Ignis inhaled a sharp, deep breath through his nose at the [sight](https://i.imgur.com/glTIxBb.jpg), struck silent with awe as he took in the view of the planet whose color saturation levels seemed to be turned up to maximum. Leggy palms and squatty, long-fingered mangroves swayed bright green in the warm breeze, casting long shadows over the blinding white sand. Where the vividly turquoise water oozed gently up the shoreline, it stained the beach a pale lavender that faded to white as it dried—until another wave washed over it again to repeat the process.

But the sky was what made Pensacola truly stand out for tourists among the thousands of beach planets in that galaxy alone. The atmosphere was perfectly clear, allowing an unobstructed view of slowly swirling galaxies above their heads—bright with pink, gold, lavender, indigo and white vortices of stars. The sky itself was a ridiculously vibrant shade of blue-black, streaked with whorls of lighter sapphire and clouds of magenta between brightly pulsing stars. All they needed was a bright pink and blue dolphin to leap from the peacock-colored waves to complete the Lisa Frank scene on all her folders as a girl in primary school.

“My word,” he breathed as she shut the door to the kitchen behind her, resealing the holo-imagery so that the building would blend back in with the scenery. She tugged on his limp hand, smiling to herself when he refused to tear his attention from the landscape as she led his shuffling feet to their table and sat him down facing the water.

His mind stayed still with awe for nearly a minute as his eyes roamed silently over the vista—taking in every nuance, every scent of the fresh breeze, every whisper of the gentle waves against the shore as they echoed off the murmuring tree line, the taste of the salty air, the warmth of the radiant blue sun, even the velvet grains of sand between his toes. He was experiencing this world as she’d always intended—completely with his every sense.

“So, what is it about the cuisine here that makes it worthy of such a prestigious award for so long?” he finally asked in a hushed tone, his face still filled with wonder.

“You’ll see here in a moment when Rejibit comes out. All the food is glorious, of course, but the final course is what we’re here for, what she wins for.”

“Chef Gordon’s signature dessert? Why is it so special?”

“It’s telepathic. Sally invented telepathic food.”

Ignis blinked, his eyes finding hers for the first time since she’d brought them outside. “A dish that reads the diner’s mind? How does it work?”

She nodded, leaning back as Rejibit placed a bowl of stir-fried vuros in front of her and a full plate of sushi in front of Ignis.

“Thank you, Rejibit. And . . . sort of. It sends out telepathic waves to your parietal and temporal lobes to determine which flavors you prefer based on your memories, even the ones you don’t think you remember. The food is full of tiny particles that take the correct form and release those chemicals into your mouth, mimicking the flavor. With some luck, I may be able to recreate the experience for you and not just how it was for me.”

“And how is it that I can be experiencing this sushi if you yourself have never had it?” he asked politely, tilting his head to closely inspect the perfect construction of the nigiri, maki, and sashimi artfully arranged across a long wooden board.

“I visited this place before I became a vegetarian.”

“I see,” he said, placing his napkin in his lap and delicately picking up his chopsticks. He picked up a Gillfin maki, dipped it lightly in Sally’s signature dipping sauce, and brought the roll to his lips.

“Mmm,” he hummed sensuously. “She was right, of course. The flavor is much more intense. And her knife skills . . . the meat is so tender; the rice is perfect.”

Their meal continued in a similar manner, with Ignis’s smile growing more and more relaxed from the placebo of glass after glass of wine and course after course of his favorite food—shellfish. The sweet, tender flesh of nephropida tails dipped in clarified butter; sea scallops pulled fresh from the cape and served on a bed of grilled asparagus; creamed crab and spinach dumplings—Laura hung onto his every praise, his every assessment, his every guess as to the meals’ ingredients and preparation. He vowed when they got back to Lucis, he would learn each and every one of these recipes to share with Noct.

As much as she hated to represent the reminder of their bleak setting back in reality, she just couldn’t bring herself to consume even imaginary meals with that Crystal fire burning away at her insides. She did her best to pick at what was set in front of her, but the way his eyes would slide over to her and narrow slightly was enough to let her know that she wasn’t fooling anyone. Happiness came so infrequently, however, stolen in those moments in between, so they did their best to forget for just a few hours the dark day that loomed over them and basked in the miracle they’d found with each other in this quiet, wondrous evening.

When the famed silver cloche was presented to their table, Laura held out a hand to stop him from lifting it. “Let your mind go completely blank and press your thumb up against that raised glass square there.”

He grinned at her, anticipation and excitement bubbling bright blue in his thoughts, before turning back, taking a deep breath, allowing his mind to go still, and pressing his thumb to the plate. Searching deep in his psyche, she found the flavors and pulled them together. She should have known—odd that they should have to be pulled from so far in the past, though. Laura wondered if he even remembered this particular recipe.

The tenderest smile crossed his face as he lifted the cloche to see what his heart desired most to complete their meal.

Fluffy chiffon cake with a large quenelle of cream cheese ice cream and a sprig of fresh mint.

Looking like a little boy on Christmas, or Hootd, morning as his lips spread wider, he carefully spooned off a little of the quenelle and a small bite of the cake before holding it out to her. “It’s custom on Eos for the bride and groom to feed each other at their nuptials as a symbol of their care,” he explained.

Laura leaned forward and opened her mouth as he gently inserted the spoon—silky smooth, vanilla, and lightly sweetened, just as his recipe was, but there was something more—something floral and spicy on the exhale that she recognized from her tea in Altissia.

“In sickness and in health, I vow to take care of you, always,” he said huskily before leaning forward to brush his lips against her cheek.

Taking the spoon from his hand, she reciprocated, combining the two elements on the plate and placing it gently on his lower lip.

“As I vow to take care of you, Ignis, to cherish you forever.”

He chewed thoughtfully, no doubt immediately detecting the difference and furrowing his brow in concentration as he swallowed.

“Do you know where this recipe comes from?” she asked.

“No,” he said once he’d swallowed, breathing out the flavors on his palate. “Though it stirs a certain something—a sense of nostalgia I cannot place. I’m detecting cinnamon, but something else.” He was silent in thought for a few moments before he finally turned to her for the answer.

“Mama Edea’s Cinnamon-Churned Honey,” she said. “I even have a few bottles from when we were in Altissia.”

“Really. Would you mind terribly if I . . .?”

“Don’t be silly. Of course you can use as much as you like.”

“I’d like to experiment some . . . see if I can recreate this.”

They finished their dessert, taking turns feeding themselves and each other, before walking along the beach. Doing her best to take his mind off tomorrow, she told him of the planet’s renowned reputation for the best salt in the galaxy—the reason why the seafood here was so delicious—and pointed out the sea turtle nests as their toes sank into the pillowy damp sand and the waves licked at their ankles.

“Perhaps we could conduct an experiment, comparing Galdin sea salt with that of Pensacolan salt. I do wonder how much the differences in mineral composition would affect the flavor of many of the dishes in my repertoire.”

“Drastically, if my experience is anything to go by. Perhaps we could get a few people together to conduct a blind taste test.”

“Now, that _would_ be something. I’d be interested to see if we Eosians had an innate preference for the salt of our home world.”

She’d had few disruptions in the real world to pull her partially out of her fantasy with Ignis this evening—a possible growl of a daemon outside their door once, but mostly Noct’s and Prompto’s shifting and turbulent dreams. But it seemed even Ignis caught in his subconscious awareness the oily pool of scourge as it approached their door, and he shot her a dark look before she rushed them back to Therinal, leaving him with Eilendil before settling onto the couch and keeping enough of their connection open that he would know precisely what was going on.

 _Don’t be afraid to awaken us the moment anything even appears as though it will go wrong,_ he advised as she opened her eyes and moved to stand in front of the beds. The comforting weight of the emerald on her hip was enough insurance that she could do whatever was necessary against Ardyn should it come to blows, even despite that increased burn and drain she’d been experiencing ever since they’d arrived.

Vapors of Starscourge leaked under the door, coalescing and growing into the near giant of a man that had been following them since Galdin. She stood as relaxed and casual as she could in the middle of the room, watching his eyes and hands carefully for any sudden movements as he solidified.

“Good evening,” she said with a gracious nod.

“Hello, my dear,” he said with a tender smirk, leaning against the door. “No tea for me this evening? I imagine you were expecting me to come.”

“Of course, though your accommodations leave something to be desired for a decent tea setting. I _was_ curious if whatever is protecting this place would allow you in. I assume that was why you were so squirrely about insisting on a camper when you stayed with us that night. Can you even step foot on a haven?”

“Why, of course I can! Though it does tend to tamper with things a bit,” he admitted, leaning his head back into the corner and crossing his legs. “I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier—I heard tales of your work with the Hydraean in Tenebrae. Impressive, if they’re to be believed.”

“Oh, they’re to be believed, all right. Ignis and I can be rather aggressive when threatened.”

His smile grew smug. “Ah, but the Advisor’s no longer yours, is he? I’m surprised to see you protecting the Gunslinger this evening, but then, the gods always were fickle. Perhaps there’s some hope for me, after all.”

Laura was far too old to be unnerved by the way his words were accompanied by running his tawny eyes up her body suggestively, lingering on her bare legs and the swell of her breasts beneath her t-shirt. Sexuality was as much a weapon for him as it often was for her—and just as meaningless in this context.

“I may have given you some of my names the other day, but don’t think for a second that it means what you think it means.”

“Yes, and it seems you’ve added one more name to that list. I suppose congratulations are in order,” he simpered as his gaze froze on the ring finger of her left hand. His eyes shot to where Ignis lay, his arms still wrapped around the spare pillow and the diamonds of his own ring glittering in the low light. “I’m hurt I didn’t receive an invitation.”

“I would think you’d be up on the proper etiquette for these things. You congratulate the groom; you offer the bride best wishes. Besides, we didn’t have your address. Figured you’d show up anyway, though. Put you down for the beef; didn’t figure you for a fish man.”

“I can be as flexible as the next man,” he said, his eyes still lingering on Ignis. “You might be surprised.”

“I rarely am, you know. Although with you . . ..” She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms and leaning into her hip. “I keep trying to figure out why you’re really here, why you keep showing up to have a chat and then swishily sauntering off for no apparent reason. It couldn’t really just be a simple matter of loneliness, could it?”

“I?” he asked, placing a hand against his heart. “I’m merely here to check on our dear little Prince and his retinue after the ordeal they’ve been through.”

“Bullshit. You’ve had them at your mercy all day, so you know exactly what state they’re in. I see you’ve taken my advice about torturing innocents to heart. That was cruel what you did to him. To both of them.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched as he frowned over at Noct, and Laura tilted her head, trying to feel around the roiling Starscourge to glean any bit of information she could from the color of his mind. His twisted expression cleared to pleasant joviality the moment she’d caught it, but the underlying emotion still colored his next words as he spoke in a lilting, smooth tone.

“I believed the boy blessed by the Astrals and spoiled by his father could stand to get a taste of what it is to give all of himself and receive only scorn in return. He’ll need to be well-familiar with the feeling if he is to take his place among royalty.”

“By the light of all the stars, listen to you,” she breathed. “This entire thing with Noct . . . taking out those who love him one by one, putting him through all this. That’s why you killed Luna. That’s why you tried to get Ignis to kill himself. You were _jealous_ of their faith, of their loyalty?”

When he merely narrowed his eyes at her in response, she couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “My _god_ what a petty child you are, even after all these years. No wonder your gods don’t want the divine and mortal mixing. The world is literally ending, and all you can do is help it along because _you_ had a bad life.”

“You have no idea what I’ve been through. The retribution I am owed in repayment,” he snarled, his expression turning dark and real as he straightened to glare down at her. “They played me for a fool, misled me into thinking I would be rewarded for my goodwill. They’ll trick him in the end, as well, my dear. You’ll see. They’ll leave him alone with nothing and no one more than what he has become.”

Paying careful attention to his phrasing, she noticed that perhaps he was beginning to realize that she wasn’t Eos, after all, deep down. It gave her hope that maybe he’d start _listening_ to her for once, helping to make this entire process easier on all of them. But underneath her own façade, she shuddered at seeing just how far this healer had fallen—further than she ever had. Was there even hope to touch the man he once was and lure him out?

“I’m really glad the man I chose to make immortal in the name of Time had a better heart than you. For all his suffering, it only made him kinder,” she said sadly, thinking of Jack when the Bad Wolf had brought him back to life. But Jack hadn’t had the influence of the scourge; he’d made friends, saved the world, suffered alongside those he loved, stood watch as he lost them all to the same Time that kept him alive for billions of years.

“And you’re implying that it _wasn’t_ you who did the same to me?”

“I’m outright stating it. Ardyn,” she sighed as she took a step closer, and he closed his eyes, cutting off his expression from her view. “Please, whatever you have planned for tomorrow, that poor madman you have running around out there, don’t do it. Let it go; let him go, and we can help you.”

The fixed point didn’t budge, whatever it was, so she knew he wouldn’t back off. But at least she’d tried, always.

When his lids raised again to reveal that gold, glittering with menace, Laura wasn’t fooled by the lazily cheerful resting expression of the mocking politician. She knew that tactic, oh so well—had learned the art of the perfectly-crafted persona at nineteen from a nine-hundred-year-old Time Lord and had used it herself frequently in the intervening millennia. This conversation was over.

“Well, it was a lovely chat, but I really must be going, my dear. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, I’m certain. Be sure to enjoy the rest of your evening.” A fake smile and a tip of that gods-awful hat later, and he was melting into vapor and seeping back under the door.

With a sigh and a wave over her shoulder, she checked on Noct’s mindscape one last time before settling down next to Prompto, running her fingers through his hair for a second before leaning over to settle her head near his shoulder.

And she opened her eyes to find herself once again tucked into Ignis’s side, Eilendil’s fire crackling merrily in the hearth, and that soft golden light coloring everything magical. Had she not been doing this for hundreds of years, she might have found the contrast jarring.

“You weren’t able to get as much from him as I’d hoped.”

“Baby steps. He’s hardly going to sit down and tell me his life story, even with you lot asleep. We managed to learn some minor things.”

“But if something is to happen tomorrow, we’re running out of time.”

 _Perhaps the interaction alone will mitigate the cruelty of his plans for you all tomorrow,_ Eilendil said from his place on the hearthstone without opening his eyes.

“I don’t know. I’m only beginning to understand his motivations. Manipulating them to our benefit is another matter entirely,” Laura said, squeezing Ignis’s body closer. “And whoever belongs to those dark and desperate thoughts I keep feeling . . . even if Ardyn could let him go, I doubt he would simply because I asked.”

“He’s jealous of Noct—of the support he has in us.”

“Even the light can lead you to darkness if you aren’t careful,” Laura reminded him. “It sounds as though he trusted in the gods that had him collecting that scourge, and they promised him the new kingdom of Lucis after the fall of Solheim.”

“We never did receive confirmation of that from Gentiana,” Ignis pointed out.

“And we likely never will, because he’s claiming betrayal, being left on his own. They won’t admit to being the cause of this openly.”

“Betrayed or not, it hardly excuses everything he’s done.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” she admitted, but her voice grew softer as she reached up to place her hand over his heart. “Can you imagine it though, Ignis? Being named the Chosen King, only his task was to heal the Darkness, not rid the world of it. Imagine he had no one to turn to as Noct did—no one to leave pieces of his heart with as he lost himself to fate—only to be betrayed by those who had told him to do it in the first place.”

“If our theory is correct, he loved the Oracle he killed, and we still don’t know what role his brother truly played in all this.”

“Noct didn’t begin to realize he loved Luna until he saw that the sacrifices you boys were making meant love. He needed you this entire time. He still needs you, and Luna wasn’t enough. Ardyn’s Oracle wasn’t enough.”

Ignis let out a breath and closed his eyes. “That such a future was even possible for Noct . . ..” He shook his head. “I cannot fathom it.”

“It almost feels like the gods were trying to repeat history, trying to keep Noct in the dark about his death so he’d walk into it.”

“Do you suppose they had Ardyn collecting the scourge to kill him and rid the world of it?”

 _His description of touching the Crystal and turning it colors as it rejected him intrigues me. As far as we know, the Crystal is the only source on the planet to heal the sickness other than the man himself_ , Eilendil said.

“You believe the gods intended to use the Crystal to . . . ‘heal the world of him,’ so to speak, and it backfired?” Ignis asked.

_Speculation. Possibly._

“Speculation,” Ignis sighed. “I’ve always despised relying on it, and yet it seems as though we’ve little else to go on these days.”

“Then enough speculating.” Laura leaned up to let her lips linger at the corner of his frown. “If you want to shave this morning before we get going, you need to get up now.”

“Do you happen to have a razor? I know you have no need for such things, but in seven thousand years, perhaps you may have collected one or two?”

“In a sense,” Laura chuckled before pressing one last kiss to his cheek and opening her eyes.

She stepped lightly over to Ignis’s bunk and leaned over his peacefully-sleeping body, sweeping his messy bangs away from his forehead and bending to skim her lips over his warm temple.

“Hey, time to get up, sleepyhead,” she whispered into his ear.

His relaxed facial features didn’t so much as twitch, but she felt the shift of his shoulders just before his arms wrapped around her middle and pulled, dragging her to his chest before he leaned up to nuzzle her neck.

 _Good morning, my beautiful bride_ , he said in a tender rumble, but even through the barrier he’d put up in his mind, she could still feel the worry churning in the undercurrent of his thoughts at meeting today’s fixed point.

 _Good morning,_ she cooed into his chest, bringing a hand up to rub at the stubble prickling his jaw bulge. _Give it a couple of days, and you’d be my mountain man._

_I despise the sensation as it grows out; it itches._

She shoved at his shoulder as she got up, and he groaned, reluctant to let her go.

 _Come on. You’ve got no mirrors and no razor, so I get to be in charge of your hair and face today,_ she said with glee. Of course, she had exactly seventy-three mirrors in her Pocket, and he probably knew that, but she wasn’t about to bring it up.

He cracked an eye open to glare at her. _You’re not planning to give me some absurd hairstyle in an attempt at humor, are you?_

She had to admit she was a little hurt that he would think she’d do that to him, but she said, _Yes, that was exactly my plan. How’d you know? Nothing would please me more than for you to be staring down Ardyn with pigtails._

 _I suppose I’m fortunate you have any of my toiletries at all in that Pocket of yours,_ he replied, turning to put his feet on the ground, straightening his back, and rolling his shoulders in long, slow circles as his t-shirt loosened and tightened over his chest.

 _Come on,_ she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. _Shave first, then hair, then clothes._ She led him to a chair next to the cracked porcelain sink and sat him down. A quick clench of the teeth as a flash of fire shot across her brain, and his shaving brush and soap appeared in her hands. _Would you mind lathering the soap?_ she asked as she ran the brush under the water.

_I wondered where this extra set went for the longest time._

_All these years spent collecting things, I might have become a bit of a kleptomaniac. I only wish I’d thought to steal some of your uniforms as well._ Leaving a quick kiss on his forehead, she skipped back to his bed and pulled one of his daggers from its scabbard under his pillow. _Unfortunately for you, I didn’t think to get you a spare razor._

Her lips quirked up into a slight smile as his mind split and refracted—a dual impression of trust and apprehension at her implied proposition. But he played it cool as he said, _And what are the odds of the others awakening to find you with a blade to my throat the morning after I marry you?_

Laura leaned down to take the brush from his hand. He raised an eyebrow before lifting his chin to bare his throat and jaw for lathering.

 _Since I can feel their minds stirring, I’d say the odds are pretty good._ She set the brush in his soap container and picked up the dagger from the sink. _Now hold still,_ she said, flipping the blade in her hand and bringing it to his throat. _I’ve never done this before._

He didn’t budge, but his eyes widened a fraction. _Truly?_

_What? Shave a man’s face with a dagger? No, extensive though my combat training was, it never came up. Still, it’s not like shaving is all that difficult. Used to do it as a human all the time. The blade just happens to be a little longer._

_Just . . . be careful, we needn’t set ourselves up for any more close shaves today._

She tipped his head back as he sighed and forced himself to relax against the angled edge at his throat. Laura herself began to relax into the routine as she worked, sinking into the peace of the morning here in their little cocoon of warmth in the middle of the dark—the deep breaths of the boys at her back; Ignis’s own slow, steady breathing; the scrape of the blade against his skin; the clean, smoky sage scent of his soap; and the intriguing zing of his arousal stoking a gentle ember in the back of her head.

 _What are you doing?_ he asked when she leaned in to graze her lips across the soft skin next to his Adam’s apple.

 _Testing to make sure I got everything_ , she replied, smiling against his neck. _I may have to go back and do this for each section, now that I think of it._

 _Mmm, I’ve no objections here, though even if you miss a spot, I’ll manage to scrape by._ He lowered his chin to capture her lips lazily, but the spell was broken when they both heard Gladio’s groan as he rolled over.

“Heh, always knew you were gonna kill him somehow, Princess,” Gladio grunted in a scratchy voice at the sight of her finishing up a few spots here and there. “Gotta admit though—didn’t think it’d be with his own blade.”

“Ugh, you’re _shaving_ him now?” Noct groaned, rubbing his eyes.

She paused in running the blade over Ignis’s cheek to glance over at Prompto, who had silently swung his legs over the side of the bed without a hint of his usual morning cheer and stared blankly down at his feet. Bloody hell, she wasn’t looking forward to their conversation this morning, of having to tell him that she’d forgotten to bring him up to speed on things—especially considering that it seemed he had something profound to come clean about to them all, as well. At some point—hopefully soon.

She pointed the dagger at Noct with a glare. “Be grateful. There are far worse things you could catch us doing the morning after our wedding night.”

“By the gods, may Ramuh strike me down in this very spot,” Ignis moaned.

She rounded the blade on Ignis next, growling, “That’s not funny.”

He did, at least, have the good grace to look sheepish as his eyes dropped to the floor. “It’s just an expression.”

Swiping the blade across his cheek one last time to finish up, she said softly, “For everyone else in the world, perhaps, but not for you.”

While the others slowly woke up, she used Ignis’s wax to style his hair as he ran his hands over his face, no doubt checking to see if it was still in one piece.

 _We’ll have to do this again someday,_ he said thoughtfully.

_Oh yeah? You liked that, did you?_

_Sometimes it takes me by surprise, the things you do that make me feel this way._

One last adjustment to the feathering in front of his ears, and she leaned in to place a brief kiss on his smooth cheek. _Finished. And you can tell from the lack of snickering that I did not, in fact, give you pigtails._

She made to pull away, but his hand darted out suddenly to grasp at her fingers. Those large, emerald eyes of his shone with contrition as he said, _Thank you, and forgive me; I didn’t intend to insult your attempt to care for me. You always have brought out my ruder tendencies._

 _For which I’ve always been grateful. Don’t worry about it_ , she said with a squeeze of his hand.  _Go get dressed while I take care of breakfast._

Ignis stood, reaching for the clothes she’d left out last night before heading to the shower cubicle to change. _Keep my portion small, if you please. The food may not be real, but I feel as though I’ve done nothing but eat since last night._

Laura had just pulled out the container of warm, frulotte and cream oatmeal when Gladio suddenly bolted upright on the bed.

“Hey! Did he come last night?”

“Did _who_ come last night?”

She closed her eyes and sighed. So much for discussing this calmly with Prompto over breakfast.

Laura opened her mouth to answer when a flash of blonde hair appeared over her eyes, obscuring her vision of reality. A torn, groaning hiss seemed to vibrate over her paracortex—a death rattle of a mind clawing out in desperation.

_Library. She’s in the library._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Episode Ardyn. Interesting. I’ll be using very little from the prologue and the episode, so don’t assume what you’ve seen or played has happened for this story.
> 
> The planet Pensacola comes from the end of the movie Contact.


	79. Chapter 79

_You don’t need to stay awake for this,_ Laura said to Eilendil as they crept past yet another uniform lying innocently draped spread-eagled across the floor. _There isn’t anything you can do if we run into trouble._

With the five of them reunited and armed, their morning spent winding through the deserted hallways and the still-operating monitoring stations had been eerily silent, devoid of any sort of opposition—except for the recurring brush of that dying and tormented mind against hers, growing more and more labored as he succumbed to the scourge. The news of their tail had put everyone on edge—coloring even Eilendil’s thoughts a sickly sort of green.

_My intellect has managed to keep you alive thus far. I am not about to change a lifetime of habit._

“Air . . . is . . . in the l—library,” Ravus choked again. A crash of heavy plastic and the deep ring of hollow metal against concrete echoed from a distance down the twisting corridors, and Noct, Gladio, and Prompto looked over at her for confirmation.

“I don’t know what he’s doing.”

“Is he too far gone to put him outta his misery?” Gladio asked.

Laura’s lips twitched into a frown as she nodded. “Even if he weren’t so far away, he’s too daemonized for me to touch like that. There’s not even enough of him to reach out telepathically like he was earlier. I think he’s just blindly repeating his last human thought.”

“So . . . we’re gonna have to fight him when he can’t . . . fight it anymore,” Prompto said under his breath.

Noct let out a sigh. “Luna’s brother . . . all this time, I thought he was our enemy.”

“Though I regret the need for destroying an ally, we’d be doing him a favor,” Ignis pointed out. His voice grew soft as he continued, “It’s what I would have wanted had our positions been reversed.”

Noct reached the end of the hall and looked back to Laura with an eyebrow raised questioningly, and she pointed to the right—the direction from which the deep, subtle bass hum floated on the air, which they’d been following all morning in the hopes of turning off the Wallbreaker to get Noct’s powers back.

 _I think I’m beginning to hear it myself,_ Ignis said, cocking his head as they turned the corner onto yet another deserted wreck of a hallway.

“But how’s he alive now when we saw him killed over a week ago?” Gladio asked.

“And he looked pretty dead last night,” Noct muttered. “Kinda preserved for a week-old corpse though.”

“Ardyn’s work, no doubt,” Ignis said. “I imagine the ability stems from the life portion of the Power of Eos—more powerful than that which Noct pours into a phoenix down.”

Prompto grimaced over at her. “Yeah, but how can he _do_ that? Just bring people back to life?”

“What is life? A quirk of matter. Nature’s way of keeping meat fresh,” Laura quoted with a shrug, though a secret frisson of awe passed through her at just how _much_ he could do with those daemonic powers of his. What were the limitations, and just what the _hell_ was this scourge that made him capable of wielding his powers so versatilely? “If he can do it now, though, I wonder why he didn’t do it when he killed his Oracle. Perhaps he wasn’t powerful enough or didn’t know how?”

“Let’s just concentrate on finding him in this hellhole and puttin’ him outta his misery,” Gladio growled, “both of ‘em.”

“Gladio,” Laura warned. She was beginning to grow concerned for this mounting frustration and anger building a volcano in his mind. “It won’t make any difference to kill him.”

She could understand his feelings, though, given that his lifelong servitude and devotion was so very similar to Ignis’s, and he had only just learned for certain that he would fail—had been doomed to fail from the very beginning. This was his Altissia.

She could only hope the consequences weren’t as devastating as that unimaginably disastrous day.

“I don’t give a shit,” he muttered obstinately.

 _Is that going to be a problem?_ Ignis asked, frowning first at Gladio, then down to her. _Between him and this fixed point, this premonitory sense looming is becoming . . . unsettling, to say the least._

_As always . . .._

_Wait and see,_ he sighed. _I can only hope that the worst of whatever may befall us occurs when we’re all safe—far from this endless, abhorrent keep._

This ‘keep’ _was_ unnecessarily large, likely designed by some moron who probably wore a long cape and loved the way it billowed out behind them as they strode through this maze. She’d seen very little in the way of tactical necessities for an empire beyond the communications and monitoring stations, and how many of those could one place possibly need? The most absolutely baffling asset of the place besides the crates and random piles of construction materials was the weapons vending machine . . . seriously? Who in this military base would be buying military-issue weapons from a vending machine? The MTs? The staff? Why weren’t these provided elsewhere? And then the Emperor sat on a throne in this place somewhere, so it also served as a palace? Nothing about the building, the layout, or what they’d found inside so far made sense, even for an empire of war.

Really, this place was too much like the Death Star. The over-sized evil headquarters with useless, empty rooms, random boxes stacked in the corners, and meandering hallways must have been a theme for malevolent empires. She should really look into architecture theory when she had the chance to make sure there wasn’t some enormous, interdimensional conspiracy going on to enslave humanity by means of terrible headquarter design.

 _Are you **truly**_ _disparaging the décor at a time like this?_ Ignis asked, glancing over at her with an eyebrow raised.

_Call it a coping mechanism. The sooner we put Ravus to rest, the sooner we can get the Crystal, get this fixed point is behind us, and get the hell out of here._

At the end of the hall was a door marked A-06 in the worst font ever invented by mankind, the same barely-readable font that had been showcased on their map all this time. Honestly, that this empire had managed to rise up at all was suspicious; Lucis should have realized they’d been getting help from _someone_ when they began gaining ground, given the way everything else had been handled.

 _Ravus’s words keep plucking at my thoughts. What does it mean?_ Ignis asked. _What library do you suppose he’s referring to? He was saying ‘she’ earlier this morning. ‘She’ is ‘air,’ and she’s in the library?  Could he be referring to Garuda?_

_I don’t know, but it must be important if his last thoughts are so fixated on the idea. But we haven’t seen anything even resembling a library in this pointless place._

Noct fumbled in his pocket for the keycard as they approached—because apparently Ardyn’s journey for him the previous day had been all about obtaining the proper security clearances to be here. A swipe to the access box, and the doors hissed open to reveal . . . every evil lair she’d ever seen in every bad movie and every surreal experience she’d been through—particularly reminiscent of the intensive care unit at the New New York Hospital on New Earth. She eyed the thousands of closed doors that lined the outer walls of the cylindrical cavern they’d found themselves in as they crossed the metal-grated catwalk that spanned a deep precipice.

Though the others probably missed it, neither Laura nor Ignis failed to spot the flash of a shredded white coat disappearing around the corner of a side passage leading out of the cavernous room, accompanied by that wave of Starscourged woe.

“Hope no one’s afraid of heights,” Prompto chuckled nervously, but even though he’d practically whispered the utterance, the sibilance of it seemed to echo off the walls and hundreds of feet down to wherever the floor was in this place.

Laura stopped to lean over the rail and get a better sense of what they were dealing with. What were the odds that one of them was going to end up dangling by their fingertips over this drop-off before the day was out? It seemed the only purpose for these vast rooms.

“We’re surrounded by Starscourge; I can feel it,” Ignis murmured under his breath, inspecting the doors.

“Great, just great,” Noct muttered back.

“In this number, I’m thinking MTs? The cubicles are about the right size to hold one, but why store them like this? And why the frack are they randomly floating back and forth? What’s the point?” Laura said. It seemed a terribly inefficient way to guard whatever was in the room at the center of this cavern, but then she supposed that given everything else she’d seen here, she shouldn’t have been surprised in the least.

“The glowing red lights—this is feeling pretty familiar,” Prompto said as he bit his lip and craned his neck up at the massive cylindrical room their walkway was leading them to.

“Yeah,” Gladio replied, “Between the dark, bein’ up so high, and the Magitek glow—feels like we’re back in Costlemark.”

“And that thing,” Prompto whispered, pointing up at the glowing [red turret-like device](https://i.imgur.com/zrEzhZx.jpg) hovering from the ceiling high above their heads. “It looks kinda like those machines in Costlemark and the Magitek Production Facility, but more modern.”

“This must be the Wallbreaker then,” Ignis said. “Collecting Eos’s energy from the Crystal, feeding it to the MTs, and blocking the Power of Kings.”

“Which means what we’re looking for is probably in that room up ahead,” Noct said. “But I went through here yesterday. That door’s locked, and my card won’t work.”

“Is there no way through?” Ignis asked, peering around the corner in hopes of finding another entrance or a window they could break.

As the five of them stopped in front of the high, black metal doors and Ignis ran his hands up the column of red lights going up the center, Laura frowned over at Prompto, standing rigid with his fists clenched at his sides. His mind was pulsing red and black, practically pushing against her senses with primal fear as he stared down at the keycard box like it was about to come alive and infect him.

Honestly, after all he’d been through, a single night’s rest wasn’t nearly enough to recover before setting out again. She could tell the way his hands would subtly tremble now and then that the potion and Ignis’s healing attempts hadn’t completely eradicated the strain on his arms. And though she had apologized profusely for forgetting to forewarn him of Ardyn’s visit, it seemed to have undermined his confidence. God, she’d never meant to do this to him.

“Prompto?” she whispered, coming to stand next to him. “What is it?”

Prompto’s watery cerulean eyes shifted to hers as he gave her a terrified smile.

“There’s a way,” he said shakily. “Pretty sure Ardyn planned for there to be a way, but it means I gotta tell you something.”

Clearly, he’d learned far too much of hiding his true emotions, though not as convincingly as Ignis. His mind had always been a little on the false side, like he’d always been convincing himself just as much as the others of his cheery nature, but that self-consciousness, that fear of rejection was always roiling just beneath the surface. Grown men and seasoned warriors hadn’t yet managed to master the sort of composure he was managing as his mind continued to flash and scream, but she supposed that given all he’d been through, he’d become both now at the tender age of twenty.

Apparently, it was time.

Laura took a step closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his back to let him know that no matter what he was about to say, he wasn’t alone. But instead of speaking, Prompto raised his tight and shaking fist to the scanner and pressed the back of his hand against the reader. The light changed from red to green, and the doors slid open with an unnecessarily ominous and thunderous rumble.

Laura leaned over to peer around the corner, checking to make sure there was nothing dangerous awaiting them—and of course the fracking throne room would be here, of all places, where the controls to the Wallbreaker were. Seriously, absolutely _nothing_ about this place made any sense.

But she turned back to Prompto, waiting patiently for the explanation as to why he was so terrified and why the barcode tattoo on his wrist that he’d always kept mostly hidden beneath a collection of bracelets was capable of opening the throne room door to the enemy empire.

“So MTs . . . they’ve got those code prints. Just like I do,” he said tonelessly, careful not to make eye contact with anyone.

“No, they don’t,” Laura said with a frown. Pointing to her head, she added, “Eidetic memory, and I think I’d remember seeing a barcode printed on the wrist of an MT. They don’t even have wrists, really.”

“Well, guess you wouldn’t see them under the armor or something. So, as it turns out, I’m one of _them_. They’re all clones; they’re all . . . _me_.” His speech grew hurried and panicked as he rushed to explain, “But I swear—I didn’t know that when I told you guys I was born in Niflheim. I didn’t lie.”

Laura moved the hand at his back to entwine their fingers, squeezing tightly as he poured all his strength into squeezing back. He bit his lip as he tried his best to meet the eyes of the others, fighting back tears, but their minds had gone still with shock and confusion. As much as she would have preferred to see this moment play out without her intervention, she felt she needed to step in and clear something up first.

“Okay, so maybe you _are_ a clone, but that doesn’t make you an MT. MTs are daemons, dear . . . not even that . . . just barely conscious scourge, like infected souls. And they don’t even have bodies underneath that armor. You _know_ that. You’ve seen them sliced up.”

“But—” he began to argue, furrowing his brow, but she cut him off.

“You’re human—just as human as Gladio and Ignis. You just happened to be created in a lab and not born, but frack, that doesn’t mean anything, I swear. Clone armies are nothing new in the universes, you know, and I’ve known a lot of good men and women who’ve been cloned.”

His eyes pinched tight in pain and hope and fear and so many thoughts and emotions swirling in that head of his like a maelstrom, but it all came to a halt when Noct spoke.

“Yeah, and I think we already established we don’t care where you were born . . . or created or whatever.”

“I don’t see you turning against us. Not now, or ever,” Ignis said with a slight smile, reaching out to slap Prompto on the shoulder.

“Already got an alien on our team,” Gladio said, leaning casually against the door jam and crossing his arms. “We could probably stand to diversify a little.”

Prompto stuttered incoherently for a second, his eyes widening. “Thanks, guys. Still. I can’t change where I came from,” he said before his voice dropped to a near whisper. “What I am.”

“Since when does where you come from matter to you?! You never once treated me as a prince,” Noct said with a smile, stepping forward to punch Prompto lightly on the shoulder.

Gladio grunted out a laugh. “He’s gotcha there.”

“Never so much as a Highness,” Ignis said loftily, his green eyes twinkling, but an undercurrent of disquiet was churning in his mind at Prompto’s words. _We’re going to have to catch up in greater detail when this is over. If the facility is capable of running on automatic, we must shut it down before leaving the Empire. And what if there are more?_ _What other experimental facilities could there be hidden among such a vast region?_

“We’re done here. Come on, Crown citizen,” Noct said teasingly, walking backward into the throne room with a cocky smirk.

_Perhaps Aranea can give us more insight beyond Prompto’s recounting, or even Biggs or Wedge._

Gladio slapped Prompto on the shoulder as he passed, saying warmly, “You’re one of us, right?”

Laura stayed by his side as the other three made their way into the throne room, watching with an amused smile as he stood with his mouth gaping open.

Ignis turned back with a cheeky smile. “Unless you’d rather not be,” he said wryly, raising an eyebrow. He turned to follow the others up the satin burgundy runner, repeatedly embossed with what she assumed to be the Niflian symbol up the middle.

She examined Prompto’s star-struck expression and leaned into his shoulder. “Feels better, doesn’t it? No more secrets, and we’re all still here.”

“I—I dunno what to say.”

She leaned over further and kissed him on the cheek. “Come on, let’s go see what trouble we can find in there.”

 _I must say I don’t care for this silence beyond Ravus._ _I never thought I would wish for daemons to spawn, but it’s been far too quiet this morning,_ Ignis said as Laura and Prompto caught up and inspected the empty onyx, marble, and gold throne that was the focal point of the room. Though they had tried for opulence with the layered columns of glowing stone and sumptuous draping fabric, the effect was nothing compared to the grandeur of the throne that almost garishly displayed the long-acquired wealth of Insomnia.

But unlike Insomnia’s throne, this one wasn’t completely empty.

“Guess the Emperor musta changed here,” Gladio said, frowning down at the long white robes trimmed in the same decadent red silk and metallic emblems; he’d ‘died’ at the helm, his hands still resting on top of the throne’s armrests, given the positioning of the limp sleeves.

“Yep, looks like the Emperor got himself some new clothes,” Laura said in an attempt to lighten the mood, but the odd looks she got from the four of them made it pretty clear the joke had been lost on them. “Never mind.”

“So this is where it’s coming from?” Noct asked as he approached the panels of switches and blinking lights that ran along the outer wall. Without waiting for confirmation, he raised Regis’s sword and rammed it to the hilt into the machine.

She could feel the warning bit back on Ignis’s tongue, but she still said, _Do they not teach you all electrical safety in school?_

 _I wouldn’t know, but it would seem they don’t,_ he said sardonically as the lights of the panel went out and the hum that had been reverberating in the back of her mouth like metallic balls all morning stopped. Arcs of electricity licked across the panels as Noct stepped back, and Laura’s attention darted to the open ceiling, where the glowing red turret hovering high above them flickered and went out.

That block that had been niggling in the back of her mind just beyond her awareness loosened and broke free, and Ignis looked over at her questioningly.

 _Are you all right?_ he asked as the fire in her paracortex flared, briefly blocking out her vision in a red haze and sending needles down to her fingertips before settling. Gritting her teeth and retreating from their bond just that tiny sliver more, she looked over to see his green eyes large with concern.

“Ehh . . . so. Did it work?” Prompto asked, grimacing.

“With the device down and out, Noct’s power should be up and running,” Ignis said without breaking eye contact with her. _I can feel you retreating._

_In a place like this, on a day like this, you don’t need the additional distraction. We’re going to have to disconnect at some point as we draw closer._

“Go on, try it.” Gladio said.

A crushing wave of anxiety hit her as he processed her words; fixed point days and disconnecting their bond didn’t exactly bring back fond memories. But he bit back the feeling immediately, shaking his head clear and letting out his breath.

_Right, of course._

“All right,” Noct let out on a sigh, holding his hand out and hesitating. “Moment of truth.” A flash of phosphorescence shone from his fingertips before his favorite engine blade appeared in his hand.

“We’re back baby!” Gladio shouted. “Now let’s go find out if that fixed point is killing the creep once and for all.”

Prompto bounced over to Noct on his tiptoes, both fists raised in the air. “All right!” he cheered, reaching down to slap Noct’s ass in celebration.

“What a relief,” Ignis sighed.

“Let’s roll,” Noct said, dismissing his sword and jerking his head toward the door.

Laura sighed a little to herself as they strolled to the arch of the open doorway, burying herself in the softer, frothier moods of the other four while she had the chance. The moment didn’t last nearly as long as she’d hoped, as Ignis flung an arm out to stop Noct just as they passed underneath the arch. Massive, stony feet dropped out of the sky and crashed to the marble floor, sinking into the masonry as though it were thunderous, crackling grass. Black, muscular legs pulsed with effort as the roaring giant stood to its full, prodigious height.

“A gargantua,” Ignis remarked mildly, pulling his daggers from their sheaths. “Well, it seems as though our weapons prowess is to be tested immediately then.”

“About time,” Gladio added.

***

 _Everything_ had grown dull, flattened, two-dimensional—with her bond cut off, her telepathy tamped down, and the waves of energy from the Crystal pulsing against her brain, pushing against the backs of her eyelids and setting her skull to aching. Ravus’s presence was doing little to help matters, coating the tip of her tongue in that hauntingly familiar scourge with her every breath as they drew closer to his position.

“Air . . . is . . . l—libr—librar—y.”

“Your Majesty, your precious Crystal awaits you,” Ardyn’s voice rang merrily through the mostly-empty loading bay, deadening on the stacks of wooden crates against the wall and echoing off the quiet armors standing sentinel. “To liven things up, I thought I’d take you on a stroll down memory lane. Of course, memories decay with time,” he snickered.

Ravus’s torment seemed to rear up against her passive touch, threatening to stain her mind with that black anguish and even blacker scourge, as dragging, stuttering steps replaced Ardyn’s voice.

“Can he hear us or not?” Noct asked, summoning his sword. “He should know by now we know it’s Ravus.”

“In whichever parts of the Keep are set up with listening devices, I’d imagine,” Ignis replied, summoning his radiant lance and pointing it toward the dark corner the shuffling was coming from. “Remember, he’s daemonized, so switch to a light weapon, Noct. His fighting style is swift, so be prepared to move.”

“Thanks, Ig.”

“Kill me! End it,” Ravus wheezed on a weak scream as he staggered into the light, giving them all a full view of what had been haunting their steps since they left the bunk room this morning.

God, he had been revived ruthlessly. A corrupted sword hung from a fused fist by his side as he held his other hand outstretched toward them—whether in threat or supplication she couldn’t be sure. The vicious purple-black glow of his heart was pulsing against his chest, fueling contaminated blood up to the curled horn ripping its way out of his half-transformed skull, to the reattached Magitek arm twisted and fused into his flesh. He’d doubled in height, his body straining against what was left of the torn shreds of the mark of his royal Tenebraean heritage.

“Gods, we shoulda stopped him leaving Altissia,” Prompto whimpered. “What happened to him? He’s enormous.”

Laura’s hearts broke for him as a dribble of putrid tar leaked from his mouth with a cough. She bit her lip before saying in a loud, slow voice, “We will, but first you have to explain. Tell us where to go. Ravus? Where is the library?”

But he’d given the last of his humanity with that final, desperate plea. With another hacking cough and convulsion that sent another sticky wave of oil dribbling down his chin, he arched his spine and threw his head back, spreading his arms wide and loosing a haunting, feral scream.

“He’s gone,” Ignis said heavily. “Let us respect his final wish.”

She gritted her teeth as she reached for Ignis’s orichalcums in the armiger, stretching out further to the pool of cool, soothing energy on her hip. Withdrawing just enough for the spell, she whispered, “Cálë.” Though she couldn’t contain her fingers tightening against the hilts, she was able to hold in the soft cry that threatened to escape her vocal chords as the bright silver UV light flared to life along the metal.

Not that Ignis was deceived for a second as he glared at her. She despised being disconnected from him at times like this—almost like having a limb severed in the middle of a fight for her life. They were no longer able to coordinate without thought or hesitation, even if they were still able to work seamlessly together through familiarity alone.

“We need to finish this as quickly as possible,” she explained. “For his sake. There may be enough of him left to hold himself back for a while, but who knows how long it will last?”

“Laura, Gladio, keep his sword arm occupied while we attack from behind,” Ignis called out as he gathered Prompto and Noctis to circle around the unprotesting zombie, still tripping forward.

Laura knew from Ignis’s experience that Ravus’s fighting style, even when he was holding back, was swift, vicious, and lightning-infused. As Gladio and Laura approached and Gladio swung his sword into Ravus’s side, she hesitated for a moment when Ravus merely raised his blade above his head and froze. This wasn’t what she had expected.

“Ravus,” she entreated when he didn’t react to Gladio’s blow. “What library? Where is the library?”

“L—l—l,” he stuttered before his body gathered itself and began to heave forward.

“Back!” Laura warned, and Gladio had just enough time to take several retreating steps before Ravus slammed his sword down into the concrete with a ringing clang.

“What’s he doing?” Prompto asked, dropping to one knee, aiming, and taking another shot at Ravus’s head as he clumsily pulled himself upright.

“Giving us a fighting chance in an attempt to end it more quickly, would be my guess,” Ignis replied as he thrust his lance into Ravus’s back and yanked it away, releasing a spout of oozing black blood.

Whatever self-preservational instinct Ravus had left in him must have kicked in, as he leaned forward and almost . . . warp-slid across the floor, the metal on the edges of his shredded boots scraping against the concrete in a shower of sparks.

“Whoa!” Noct ejected before warping up to the ceiling, then warp-striking down to Ravus’s throbbing chest.

Laura doubted she could manage a warp this close to the Crystal, so she scurried along with the others to the other side of the loading bay. Ravus stumbled back, his half-transformed face twisting with rage, and thrust his sword at Noct’s gut with a sharp demonic roar. Noct phased in a web of blue as he spun to the right and tossed his lance into Ravus’s side with another warp.

“Damn, and I thought he was strong before,” Gladio muttered as they reached the battle. He parried Ravus’s advance away from Noct, knocking the blade to the side as Laura darted in to take advantage of the opening he’d created.

The slow, lumbering swordwork as Ravus struggled to control himself made up for his terrifyingly strong hits, allowing them the time to twist and spin out of the way with ease as they continued to chip away at his broken and unnaturally resilient body. The echoes of the last of his humanity continued to batter at her as they worked on him, driving a lance of mental agony into her already aching skull and washing her away in a wave of vertigo.

The seething, toxic violet of his veins brightened as he lost his battle with the scourge, and they found that they had to move more quickly as the ferocity of his attacks grew swifter and more violent. With a groan of effort, Ravus smashed his blade to the ground again in a blast of concrete shrapnel, and, thinking the effort was another redirection of uncontrollable force, they didn’t bother to back away farther than the reach of his massive sword.

But of course, their assessment had been wrong, and of course, she, already in a vulnerable state, was closest to this newest tactic. Viscous black goo melted like burning plastic in a puddle around Ravus’s feet, sticking to her boots, sapping her strength, and clawing at her mind. 

 _Laurelín,_ Eilendil roared as she dropped to her knees, holding her pounding head between her fists still gripping her falchions. _You must move clear of him!_

She was far from being able to stagger to her feet and move away. Raking claws seemed to dig through skin and bone down to the soft flesh of her brain, setting her eyes and thoughts on fire. The sight of Ravus’s bared and blackened teeth grew smaller and darker as she fell forward on her aching fists.

“Iggy!” she dimly heard Noct yell from so very far away.

Stars—Ignis in danger too? But the necklace . . . his daggers. She _had_ to help, but her eyes were falling closed of their own volition as panic began to seize what little rational thought she was capable of. Even Eilendil was howling Ignis’s name—somewhere in the back of her mind. No! Where were the timelines at a time like this? That fixed point was still lingering like a knot lodged at the back of her throat, but what could she do in this state to save him—bloody hell, even to _see_ him?

She was going to let him down; she had no other choice as her arms trembled to keep her face out of the slowly dissipating pool of Ravus’s dark magic.

“No!” Ignis shouted, and she could hear the jaw-clenching ring of metal meeting metal, suddenly so close to her head that she wondered if Ignis was about to collapse on top of her. Ravus’s answering roar retreating with another warp-slide implied that his objective had been achieved. Oh stars, how badly was Ignis hurt?

She was just about to scream with the last of her strength for _one_ of the others to rescue him when two strong, familiar arms wrapped around her middle and chest, lifting her free of the sticky pool.

“Rose,” she heard Ignis murmur as she felt herself being carried away, “open your mind to me—just for a moment, love.”

As he set her down again and gently rolled her over onto her back, she reluctantly obeyed—that warm, calm burgundy splashing and shining its way through every corner without pausing to linger in the joy of reconnecting. But even with his reassuring presence in her head, thoughts had become odd and distorted, trickling like raindrops on the other side of a glass windowpane she couldn’t reach. She could just barely feel him surge toward her connection with the Crystal, gathering her energy, his own, and her native energy in the emerald at her hip to cast his regeneration spell on her.

 _‘ope ya don’t do it too good and make me regenera’e,_ she giggled. _Make for a really confusin’ day._

 _You’re delirious. Please hold still while this works,_ he replied shortly as the spell crept slowly over her body, making her limbs tingle with warmth and her lungs burn as she sucked in a deep breath. The cobwebs cleared from her head, and she was _finally_ able to look up into the seemingly calm malachite of his eyes, sensing that tightly reined-in panic and the pain he was now sharing from the Crystal ringing through their bond.

“Thank you,” she said, blindly fumbling out to catch his fingers with her own as she retreated from the connection again. _And thank you, for calling him,_ she added to Eilendil.

_He is my body. It is good to have a physical ally I can call upon when you are too stupid to save yourself._

“I save you; you save me. It’s what we do,” Ignis quoted as he pulled her to her feet and studied their situation. He nodded once in thanks to Prompto, who had stood over them and kept watch as he got his shots in each time Noct and Gladio had drawn back.

“Thanks, Prom for looking out for us,” Laura said, pulling his cheek to her lips.

“You know I always will,” he called back as she and Ignis returned to the front line.

Noct had drawn Ravus into the corner farthest from them, releasing his mortal identity to send shooting stars of his family’s glaives into Ravus’s infected flesh as he hovered in the air over the gargantuan half-daemon.

“Can you manage a stronger light spell? He’s nearly finished, I believe,” Ignis asked as he rushed to Noct’s side and summoned his daggers again.

Laura couldn’t help but snort a little at his courteous tone here in the middle of a battle, but she answered, “Yes, but I wouldn’t be able to sustain it for long.”

“Very well,” he said as he lunged forward to cover Gladio while he cracked a potion in his fist. “We need to coordinate, concentrate all our power on him at once.” 

“So you do overwhelm, and we all use our light weapons?” Noct suggested.

Ignis nodded. “A capital idea.” Turning to Prompto as Laura and Gladio moved to cover the twisting, roaring Ravus, he called out, “The moment you see us strike, fire a shot to his head.”

The dance was easier now that they knew not to have their feet on the floor when Ravus’s blade touched the concrete, but the strategy became keeping Ravus occupied as they waited for the right opening for all of them to get into position. The moment arrived when Ravus raised his sword above his head for another slow, forceful blow to the floor.

“Do it now, Ig,” Noct shouted when he’d phased back into the world from another sparkling warp-strike.

“Give it all we got!” Ignis shouted back over another of Ravus’s screams, flinging a hand out towards their enemy.

Laura had never truly understood how Ignis’s spiritual magic worked in this realm—where not even the Lucian kings could affect the mind in such a way. Even the Glaives’ limited spiritual magic that she’d seen didn’t quite have the versatility that his did. The effect on the spirit wasn’t technically telepathy for the others, even if it was for her because of their bond, tamped though it was. For them, it seemed more an influential empathic touch, growing stronger and more effective as they endured their trials together and grew closer. His precision focus lent to the five of them, they all rushed forward as one, driving their steel and mithril deep into the body of the tortured half-man. Laura waited for the explosions of Prompto’s shots before she drew from the emerald and shouted, “Aiáncala!”

Molten flame poured over her synapses as the holy light of the stars rushed from the six blades and four bullets lodged inside the radioactive body. She closed her eyes against the pain and the ear-piercing shriek emitting from her fingers, ignoring the fact that she could feel Ignis’s eyes on her as his consciousness hovered just outside their bond.

Their swords and lances pulled free of the body as Ravus fell to his knees with a choking, guttural growl, hacking up a mass of congealed scourge as his inky eyes bulged. Bloody hell, she knew too well the terror as that tar coated the lungs, mouth, and mind alike, ripping away rational thought and reducing one’s entire identity to instinctual, lashing fear. Even the linings of his nose and eyelids would be covered in the sticky slime of seething hate. She couldn’t think of a worse way for a man to die.

With a final gasp, Ravus fell face-first to the floor, twitching and convulsing for a moment before finally going still and quiet.

Laura stood next to Ignis in the circle they’d formed around the prone body, staring down at such a very young man who may have made some rather foolish decisions, but must have had very few choices in his life.

Gladio was the first to break the silence. “A sorry end for the High Commander, for anyone. He was a man with hopes and dreams.”

“Jeez, Gladio,” Laura muttered, wincing. “You’ve been officially relieved of giving any sort of eulogy ever again. That was awful.”

“Ugh. It’s horrible,” Prompto said tremulously, grimacing at the body still slick with Starscourge, its pulse still ebbing as black tears slid down the white cheek she could see beneath his hanging curtain of grey hair.

Ignis closed his eyes, sighing before inhaling a deep breath. “Lord Ravus Nox Fleuret, Prince of Tenebrae—a man who repeatedly sacrificed his life and happiness to achieve a higher calling, to protect his beloved sister despite insurmountable odds. He was willing to do anything, give anything to save her, and received naught but scorn in return. He certainly didn’t deserve such a fate,” he said, his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. “We shall move forward with his name added to the list we carry in our hearts, and in whose names we shall exact retribution.”

At their murmurs of agreement, Laura kneeled next to Ravus, tentatively reaching out to the shredded white coat and pushing him over onto his back. There was something about the angle of his jaw, the shape of his eyes, the angle of his brow that reminded her of Ignis—young and old at the same time. She reached out with gentle fingers to brush a lock of hair away from his ruined brow.

“Laura,” Ignis stated flatly, though she could hear the hesitation in his tone.

“It’s not contagious through touch like this,” she reminded him. She placed her hands on Ravus’s tear-stained cheeks and closed her eyes, reaching out for the fiery light of the Crystal space. Frack, it hadn’t burned this much the night she’d waited for Regis, but she was so much closer to the thing now. She couldn’t stay for long, so the moment she opened her eyes to the undulating aurora, she shouted the message to anything, anyone that would listen.

“Hey! This Anathema would just like to say—if this is any indication of how you treat your defenders, maybe I stand a better chance being despised. Another one of your servants has died in your service. The least you can do is grant him peace!” she shouted before withdrawing. She opened her eyes in time to watch Ravus’s body grow fainter, fading away beneath her hands in a puff of vapor and sylleblossom petals.

“What did you do?” Ignis breathed.

“From the looks of it, I called his sister.”

“Luna?” Noct asked from above her.

“I imagine she was the only one who could put his soul to rest.”

“Why didn’t he . . . transform all the way? The disease didn’t work like that back in Lucis; people would just disappear.”

Ignis’s eyes flickered over her before they shot to Noct with a frown. “We’ve seen evidence that those with time in their DNA can be infected instantly and yet not transform. Perhaps his heritage is responsible.”

“I’d say that’s likely,” Laura said, looking back down at the stained concrete. “He wasn’t a pure-blooded heir of Eos, nor did he have the telepathic barriers to resist the mental onslaught.” She grew quieter at the memories. “It was a miracle he could pass anything at all to us, really.”

She stood and backed up against Ignis’s chest as he carefully placed his hands on her shoulders. The five of them stood in silence, staring down at the empty spot on the floor before slowly turning toward the elevator.

“Look out, we’ve got company!” Gladio bellowed unnecessarily, summoning his sword to his hands again as they all followed suit.

A black hole in the floor seemed to open up from nowhere—in front of them, behind them, surrounding them on all sides as it heaved and rolled like an ocean in a storm. The typical whispering rush and creaking groans of daemons breaking through the skin of the world rose up to the dull roar of a multitude as hundreds of them pooled up out of the floor, beginning their existence as wispy columns of vapor and slowly solidifying into identifiable forms. As one, the dark army of daemons of every species crept toward them with ominous snickering, cackling laughter, and threatening hissing.

“Ohh, man, there’s no WAY we can beat all these,” Prompto cried out as he took several retreating steps, realized there were only more behind him, and stopped between Noct and Ignis.

They weren’t meant to win this battle.

“We gotta come up with some kinda plan. No way can we win this,” Gladio agreed as he lunged forward and swiped his sword across a goblin’s torso, cutting it in half.

“We could clear a path for Noct so he could go ahead and get to the Crystal,” Prompto suggested, dismissing his pistols in favor of his gravity well and backing up so he didn’t suck them all in when he activated it.

Noct’s vehement denial was barely audible over Ignis’s, “Absolutely not! If we can clear a path for one, we can clear a path for all.”

Laura cleaved a falchion through the arm of a wraith before spinning to the side, dancing around Ignis’s gracefully flitting form to bury her other blade into the quivering muscle of a naga. “Everyone try to get back to back. Form a circle of protection, and we’ll make our way to the elevator together.”

“You could still get to the Crystal . . .  if you left alone,” Ardyn taunted over the speakers. “Your friends will have to stay behind.”

That smooth, calm voice that Laura had always associated with futuristic computers echoed through the loading bay the moment he’d finished: “Hangar gate closing. Please stand clear.”

“You’d better think fast!” Ardyn said as they drew closer to the back wall together—she, Gladio, and Ignis taking the retreating edge of the circle as Noct and Prompto took the leading edge to the elevator door. “I don’t envy you your decision.”

When Noct reached out to press the button and turned his back against the wall, Laura pushed them all against its protection, calling on her bond with the Crystal to cast a shimmering web of blue around them. Each scrape of teeth, each slap of body and sword may as well have been tearing at her flesh as she flexed that bond to keep the shield intact. When the elevator doors groaned open with a cheery _ding_ , they nearly fell inside, dismissing their weapons for a moment in favor of catching their breaths. With the cage door closed behind them and no daemons in the small space, Laura canceled the spell, fell against the corner of the elevator, and closed her eyes, rubbing at her temples.

“Does anyone need medical attention?” Ignis asked as the elevator jerked down and the snarling from the cage walls above receded.

She sighed in relief at the muttered, “Nah,” “I’m good,” and “All good here!” Opening her eyes and spreading her lips into a twinkling smile, she said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to do some running.”

Which was exactly what the five of them did as the doors shuttered open to reveal the crate-lined path that would lead them across a vast, dark hangar to the central elevator shaft.

“Betraying your friends for the greater good—the mark of a monarch!” Ardyn jeered as the five of them scattered to pass a reaper clawing its way out of the ground. “Step forth, Your Majesty! If you wish to obtain the Crystal’s power, you must be prepared to lose all else.”

“Guess that answers whether he can see us,” Noct huffed.

Their boots skidded against the concrete as a gargantua ripped and clawed its way up through the ground, but those hangar bay doors were tantalizingly close, their matte black metal shining in the low light as the gap between them grew steadily narrower. The five of them scattered, taking clear routes on both sides of the daemon as he lifted his ridiculously massive sword above his head to slam it down to the ground in front of him as Ravus had.

And there was a thought . . . where were these massive weapons coming from, anyway? The clothes that appeared on some daemon types but not others? Ravus’s daemon sword certainly hadn’t been his own. Was that part of the transformation? It seemed the more they learned about this disease, the less it made sense. She only knew just enough about genetics and medicine to get herself into trouble, but she was pretty confident in saying that no human disease made weapons appear in one’s hands. She also doubted Ardyn had a hidden factory somewhere dedicated to crafting goblin hats, as well.

The room on the other side was suspiciously free of daemons as the cargo bay doors slammed shut behind them, but they didn’t pause for a second in their mad dash. As the burn from her brain stretched its fingers down her throat and into her chest, Ignis wrapped his long fingers around her arm and pulled her around the wall of the circular ramp leading up to the elevator. She couldn’t hide it anymore as those sleek metal doors pulled shut behind them and, for the moment, they were all _finally_ relatively safe. She leaned her hot forehead against the cool wall—struggling to keep from gasping as her lungs stretched painfully around that fire.

They were almost there—that hellfire was searing her synapses more and more the closer they drew. She could only hope with her resonant frequency as aligned as it could be that the boys wouldn’t suddenly start turning on her.

The gentle hand that had just brushed against the top of her shoulder jerked back a little at the sound of Ardyn’s condescending tones sounding far too close in the closed-off room.

“Do you suppose your dear friends are still alive? I must say, it’s not looking good for our heroes. I don’t see them anywhere on my monitors! What if they’ve perished before you had the chance to say goodbye?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Gladio open his mouth, likely to vent that boiling need for violence with some colorful insult, but Ignis placed a finger over his lips and shook his head.

“Those who died for you—do you ever wonder what went through their minds? Can you even recall their final words?”

Ignis and Prompto each took one of her elbows as the doors slid open. Honestly, she didn’t need help to walk . . . yet, but if they were ambushed on this long walkway suspended over yet _another_ precipice, as much as she hated to admit it, she’d probably need some assistance.

“Any news on that fixed point?” Noct whispered as they slowly approached the massive hollow sphere set at the end of the raised walkway—a fracking tiny Death Star, she should have known.

Her steps faltered as she caught sight of the blue-purple-green glow that could only be the source of every trouble they’d had since she arrived on this planet, but something else was pricking at the back of her mind, distracting her from the present moment. Everything else in her brain was screaming not to look down through the metal grating, but her body betrayed her as she dropped her eyes to the rock floor far below.

The image of her husband’s long, elegant frame lying limp and ashy in her lap was nearly solid—in full technicolor just below her feet as his chest collapsed into his last breathy exhale.

Shaking her head and shifting her thoughts back to the present universe, she said, “No.”

“It doesn’t matter. Whatever happens, at least we’re all together.”


	80. Chapter 80

Ignis released his hold on Laura, who slumped against the low rail that formed a circle around the grated platform here in this unusual sphere of a room. There was no sense in asking her if she was all right—she clearly wasn’t. With one final, reassuring caress to her shoulder, he turned to the more pressing matter demanding his attention. For the first time in his life, Ignis studied the petrified uterus with full knowledge of everything it represented, everything it truly was, and everything it could and had taken away from him.

Of course, he was also blessed with the full knowledge that this rock was the only thing in all of creation that could help them save the world.

The Crystal appeared much as it had the one time in his life he’d seen it—when King Regis had taken him and Noct to the heavily-guarded room and ordered that the long, octagonal cylinder it had been kept in be opened so that they could lay eyes on Noct’s destiny. Its dark outer shell seemed to suck in all ambient light, creating a black hole despite pushing out waves of aurora. The shell was split open to reveal a cavity—the inside of the womb lined with crystalized electric-blue stalactites, and further in, Ignis could just make out the softer, almost flesh-like glowing pink of its lining.

He couldn’t decide in that moment whether he treasured or despised the thing that had had such a profound impact on his fate, but even with his senses closed, that power he had grown so familiar with over the course of their journey pressed against his skull and soaked into his skin. It deserved his respect, whatever it . . . _she_ had inadvertently done to them all, for whether she had created all life on this planet in the fashion of a true goddess or merely brought humans from Earth to settle here, she was responsible for their existence.

“So, um . . . what now?” Prompto asked in a hushed tone.

The blue and purple glow of the aurora undulated lazily, casting eerie patterns of shadow and light across Noct’s pale face as he gazed up at his destiny. Whatever happened in these next few minutes would be the fixed point they’d been waiting for, Ignis knew without having to ask Laura, just as well as he knew that Noct’s foreboding meant this point wouldn’t be pleasant for any of them, even if he wouldn’t be slated to die for another several long years.

Noct’s frown deepened. “I dunno. It’s not like I have a manual or anything.”

“Those kings aren’t saying anything?” Gladio asked.

“No,” he snapped. Taking a deep breath through gritted teeth, he looked up sharply at the bright cavity in the center, his eyes blazing with an equally ferocious glow. “So here goes nothing.”

Reaching forward with his ringed hand, he whispered fiercely, “Please, help me stop the daemons. Help me keep my friends safe.”

Allowing Noct’s outstretched hand to make contact with the Crystal went against Ignis’s every instinct. There were few in this world that had ever even _seen_ the Crystal in its secure location at the Citadel, but His Majesty had made it all too clear the one time he had taken Ignis and Noct to see it that it should never, under any circumstances, be touched. The Crystal represented the purest heart of the star, he had explained, which couldn’t make contact with the impurity of the planet below. It seemed that Ardyn had known this as well, as he had at least chained it to float above this platform in this spherical room—several layers of protection, then. But the audacity he had displayed by removing it from its chamber and damaging the shell by inserting the hooks to attach to the chains . . . it was clear Ardyn wished to cause the Crystal pain.

But Noct had been Chosen. He possessed whatever sort of purity the Crystal demanded to make direct contact with what was left of their mother goddess. As Noct’s fingers drew closer, Rose gasped a sharp breath of pain as the tendrils of light reached out like hands welcoming a long-lost loved one. Torn as to whom he should give his focus, Ignis kept his eyes locked on Noct, praying to her dormant thread that she would forgive him for not turning to her in that significant moment.

The aurora curled around Noct’s arm and wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him a step closer—until his hand shot forward suddenly and made contact with the lip of the cavity.

“Agh!” Noct cried out. Though at a loss for how, exactly, they could help, the three of them took a step forward, but Noct flung his free hand out behind him to stop them. “No! It’s okay. I think . . .” He struggled to pull back a little as the Crystal continued to drag him up and forward. “I think this is supposed to happen. It’s a womb, right? Gotta be reborn, or whatever.”

“How do ya figure that?” Prompto asked. “That sounds kinda gross.”

“Dunno. Sorta making it up as I go,” he chuckled weakly before turning his head toward Laura with a soft smile. “Learned from the best.”

“Noct,” Ignis said softly, completely at a loss for what to say, what to do.

“S’okay, Specs. Just take care of each other till I get back.”

As he opened his mouth to say . . . something, Ignis heard slow, ambling footsteps over the metal grating, and he spun to face the threat, planting himself between Noct and Rose.

“Aww, how touching,” Ardyn’s voice echoed in the vast space, closer, more real than it had been for two days as they fought their way through this maze of horrors. “And look! Unharmed by the light—a Chosen King indeed.”

His suspicions confirmed, Ignis’s eyes fell on the shadow responsible for the utterance and that lazy, rolling gait headed towards them. It faltered for a moment as Ardyn’s head whipped in Laura’s direction. Perhaps it was merely Ignis’s imagination, but his steps seemed to grow less predatory as they continued.

“What’s this? An anathema as well?” He tilted his head, his signature smirk and mischievous eyes coming into view as he drew closer to the Crystal’s brightened light.  

Laura pushed herself to her feet, standing tall next to Ignis, but he was well-accustomed to her body language after months of enduring their trials together. He took a step closer to her side to catch her should she collapse but was careful to maintain some distance so as not to make her appear too weak to defend herself.

“Then this _isn’t_ your flesh . . .” he continued in the wake of their silence. “How interesting, but I’m afraid circumstances dictate that we attend to another matter first.”

Ardyn’s attention shifted to Noct, who was now struggling against the pull of the Crystal to join the potential altercation brewing.

“I suppose much of my thunder has been stolen away by recent revelations, and yet . . . indulge me in regaling you with a tale. In an age long past, an incurable scourge ravaged mankind as they retreated into primitivism after a long war—a tiny menace that twisted men into monsters, the likes of which you’ve seen. In Lucis lived a savior who could cure the afflicted. At the behest of the remaining Five, his body would come to host myriad daemons, that countless lives be spared.”

“We’ve gathered this,” Ignis stated icily, glancing briefly behind him to see that Noct was halfway pulled into the Crystal; they only had seconds left. Noct would return; Pryna’s vision foretold it, but for how long would the Crystal demand he gestate? Ignis despised Ardyn in that moment for forcing him to turn his back on this scene. This could very well be the final moment the five of them had to say goodbye before the day his despicable vision took place, and they were instead forced to play this game with an egotistical madman.

“Then allow me to tell the tale from my side, for once,” he replied, his voice developing a keen edge as he came to a halt in front of them. “The dwindling population needed a leader in the wake of the apocalypse, and who better to serve than the sage that cured their woes in such dark times with knowledge and power in equal measure? The gods made a treaty with man, a promise to name their equal once he had proven himself worthy of the Crystal’s blessing. He was to become the King of Lucis, the King of Light.”

Ardyn’s brow furrowed as he spoke, his eyes growing large and pained and . . . more sincere than Ignis had ever seen. So, this must be the man stripped completely of his persona. Even his voice had lost that unctuous, playful melody, growing soft in a way that Ignis was hesitant to identify as honesty.

“But he was betrayed—deceived into gathering the affliction into himself so that he could be sacrificed—cleansed in the holy fires of the Crystal for the sins of man and god alike. A jealous, violent king, one not yet chosen by the Crystal, turned on his brother, along with those the healer once thought were his allies. They made a true monster of him.”

“Yeah, probably cause you killed your Oracle, so Somnus had no choice but to take you out,” Gladio said, his fist tightening around the hilt of the sword he’d summoned the moment Ardyn had appeared. “Don’t pretend like you’re the helpless innocent in all this.”

“What is it you want?” Ignis asked flatly to cut through the rubbish, because this . . . _creature_ was sullying their parting, and Ignis had so much to say before Noct left.

“Noct,” Ardyn said tenderly, ignoring Ignis’s demand, “killing you as a mortal will bring me scant satisfaction. Claim the Crystal’s power. Arise as its champion. Only once the Crystal and King are no more can I know redemption.”

Ignis summoned his daggers as Ardyn came to stand between Ignis and Gladio and grinned up at Noct, who was still struggling against the Crystal’s pull. It had taken him by the shoulders now, and the cords in Noct’s neck bulged as he twisted and fought to loose himself from its grip to join the rest of them in this confrontation.

“Come back soon,” Ardyn crooned. He smirked wickedly at the four of them, gesturing with a grand sweep of his hand. “I shall keep your friends company until you are ready.”

“We’ll be here, Noct, always,” Ignis called to his king’s retreating face. “We’ll be waiting.”

With a final, heart-wrenching scream of, “I’ll come back for you!” Noct disappeared in a flash of blue, leaving the Crystal’s light to wane to a subtle, nearly black indigo. Ignis’s eyes darted around the scene, taking stock of their assets and weaknesses in this situation. With Laura as their greatest liability and Prompto not completely recovered from his trials, Ignis wasn’t certain they could escape this conflict completely unscathed unless Ardyn decided to show them mercy. His fingers tightened on the hilts of his daggers as he stared down the man that was blocking their exit.

Even should the unthinkably fortunate occur and Ardyn simply turn and waltz out of the room without another word, they couldn’t leave this place. Noct was in the Crystal, and they needed to return to the hangar, which may still be filled with daemons, to retrieve the equipment for loading the Crystal onto . . . something. They still needed to locate a ship.

The situation was far too complex for him to contemplate while he stared down his enemy. There were far too many people to protect in this delicate scenario. Their only hope was to diffuse the situation without inciting violence.

“How touching,” Ardyn simpered. “But it’s unwise to make promises you may not be able to keep.”

Ignis’s attention flashed to the light reflecting off Gladio’s sword as he brought it up and stepped forward. Too fast . . . this was all happening far too quickly for Ignis to devise a plan that would keep them all, including Noct, safe, and Gladio was forcing the scenario forward whether he liked it or not.

“Yeah, well, here’s one promise I intend to keep!” Gladio boomed as his arms swept toward Ardyn’s throat.

“Gladio, _no_!”

Laura darted away from Ignis’s side, and his hand closed around air as he dismissed a blade and attempted to grab her arm and pull her back.

It was almost as though his failure had provoked time to move in slow motion. The long tendrils of her hair that always framed her face kicked up as she leapt between Ardyn and the blade and spun, her unprotected back facing their enemy as she raised a hand to the sword approaching her. Gladio’s eyes widened, but his swing was already too far along. There wasn’t a blessed thing in this world Gladio or Ignis could do to stop the shimmering mythril as it headed for Laura’s neck.

An earsplitting shriek rent the air as a web of blue erupted from her outstretched hand, catching the keen edge of the blade with a high-pitched squeal of protest. With a cry of her own, Laura stumbled, falling back into the tentative embrace of the Chancellor as he, too, seemed to drop the façade of strength he’d apparently been affecting and lurched a step toward the precipice behind them. Ardyn looked down, his mouth dropping open as Laura sagged against his chest, and he slid his hands around her bicep and stomach to keep her from falling.

“Don’t—” Ignis began, more due to the visceral reaction of seeing _those_ hands yet again on the bare skin of Laura’s arm. Astrals, it would only take a second for him to infect her again and . . . or even allow her to fall over the side of the platform. But what was he to say? Ardyn already knew of Ignis’s weakness for her, already knew who and what she was. Nothing on this eos could convince Ardyn to display the same mercy she had just shown him—unless he chose to do so himself.

Ardyn continued to stare at the woman slumped in his arms, his golden eyes large and almost alarmed at finding himself in this position. “Oh, dear, now that our little Prince has gone, is the goddess finally showing her true nature?”

Laura straightened and yanked her arms out of his unprotesting grasp, but to Ignis’s alarm, she kept her back to Ardyn as she stared Gladio down as though _he_ were the enemy, her hands raised and fingers spread wide as though attempting to calm a raging beast. “Mercy, Gladio. You must have mercy.”

“There’s no WAY you’re actually standing between me and him right now after everything he’s done!”

“Guys?” Prompto queried in a small voice, stepping forward and holding out a hand to lead Laura away from Ardyn, but she ignored the offer.

“Turning on the retinue! On your dear husband! A parallel Eos, indeed!” Ardyn crowed. He held a delicate hand over her shoulder, gesturing to indicate that she should take it. “It would seem I’ve no quarrel with you, after all. Come with me, my dear. We can rid the world of the curse of Eos and eradicate this despicable planet’s animosity towards us for good.”

Instead of answering or taking Ardyn’s outstretched hand, Laura continued to stare up at Gladio, who seemed to be deciding between taking her advice or pushing her aside to make another try for their enemy. Ignis didn’t need a telepathic connection to know that this wasn’t a betrayal of any sort, rather, an attempt at the very stratagem he’d been aiming for. But as many of Laura’s schemes tended to resolve themselves with severe consequences, or explosions of some sort, his mind continued to race as he created and discarded several scenarios for getting them all out of this safely. She was still too close; Ardyn could still infect her with the twitch of a hand.

“Gladio,” Ignis said sharply, and when his whiskey-colored eyes met his, Ignis met the glare with his own threatening glower, shaking his head.

“Fuck!” Gladio roared, slamming his blade down into the grating at his feet with all his strength and frustration.

“Temper, temper,” Ardyn taunted with a sly smile.

“Will you just go already?” Laura huffed as she _finally_ turned to face him. “We’ve got enough to deal with without your intervention.”

“As you wish,” Ardyn said, removing his hat with a flourish and bowing deeply at her. “Though you should reconsider my offer. Should the Dawn break once again, it would only bring the horrors of humanity to light. Really, my dear, you should all be thanking me. In the dark, you would all know peace.”

“I’ll send you a card later.” She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “Please? Just this once. Go.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly, turning on his heel and throwing an elegant wave over his shoulder. “I’m certain we’ll be seeing each other, but you know where to find me should you change your mind.”

The four of them stood at the ready until the darkness swallowed the sashaying shadow whole. Doing his best to ignore the tidal wave of golden power emanating from the Crystal, Ignis reached out as far as he could with his senses to detect Ardyn’s pool of scourge—as well as the malevolent immortality that was his aura. He couldn’t feel an inkling of him, but he waited until Laura seemed to collapse on herself, her shoulders curling inward as she staggered back to sit on the low railing and hold her head in her hands.

“And just what the fuck was all that about?” Gladio demanded, the hoarseness of his voice amplified in the vast spherical room as it echoed painfully in Ignis’s ears.

But Ignis ignored him as he rushed to Laura’s side and crouched down to inspect her pallor, her breathlessness.

“Rose,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry. I had to do some—”

“I know. It’s all right. We’re all alive.” Summoning a bottle of water and idly wondering how it was possible he still had access to the main part of the armiger with Noct technically so close but so very far away, he twisted off the cap and thrust it into her trembling hands. “What else can I do?”

Laura looked up at the darkened Crystal over Ignis’s shoulder, her eyes narrowing contemplatively. “We need to leave.”

“We can’t leave Noct here.”

She shook her head. “He won’t be coming back here. Remember what Shiva said? ‘The King and the Frostbearer shall meet again—once the Chosen receives the revelation of the Bladekeeper at the Umbral Isle upon reflection.’ Well, if Noct’s prediction of this being his ‘rebirth’ is right, I think this is his reflection.”

“So you think he’s gonna appear at this Umbra place?” Prompto asked, crouching down next to Ignis in front of her. “Does it have to do with Umbra?”

“It’s Angelgard,” Ignis replied. “You believe he’ll reappear at the Umbral Isle Angelgard.”

“Hey!” Gladio barked.

“Why there though?” Prompto asked.

“Long has it been implied that the isle has connections to the higher realm, where the power of our star is centered. Legend says that the planet gave birth to the Crystal in that very spot.” Ignis tilted his head in thought. “But given that we now know the Crystal is Eos’s womb, that can’t be true.”

With a half-shrug, Laura said, “Could be where she showed up on this world. Could be where she gave birth to the Six. It doesn’t really matter. He’ll end up there, if Shiva is to be believed.” As she placed her hands on either side of her and pushed herself to her feet, Ignis and Prompto stood, both grasping an elbow to steady her as she teetered for a moment. “And anyway, Ardyn will take care of the Crystal. He wants this to happen.”

“You’re making all these fucking assumptions!” Gladio spat. “Are we friends with this guy or something now?”

“Gladio—” Laura began, leaning into Ignis’s side.

Gladio clenched his fists and stalked forward, his eyes full of fire. Ignis straightened threateningly as Gladio approached and stared down at her, but he merely hissed in her face. “One job. I had _one_ job from the day I was born. And _you_ got in the way of that.”

“It’s not as though you could have done any damage,” Ignis pointed out, but his logical argument only seemed to incense Gladio further as his eyes grew more manic.

Gladio opened his mouth and sucked in a lungful of air, but Laura spoke first. “I bought us time. Time to get us out of here, and maybe a little goodwill to keep us alive for however long Noct will be away.”

“Yeah . . . sorry,” Prompto interrupted, stepping forward and raising a hand as though he were in class. “How long’s that gonna be, exactly?”

“Time is fluid between us now. He may come out tomorrow having spent a hundred years in there, or he may come out a hundred years from now having spent a day in there. I have no way of knowing.”

“And . . . we’re gonna have to fend of Ardyn until then,” he said in horror.

Ignis gazed up longingly at the accursed rock that had determined their destiny so long before they were born. Given the way events had transpired for Noct so far, he had a feeling he knew exactly when they would see Noct again.

“He isn’t going to emerge until the day the vision comes true. Am I correct?”

She leaned more heavily against his side as he tightened his grip around her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, blocking out the final vision of Noct’s frightened face as he was dragged away from them. “I suppose, at the very least, he’ll be safe where he is while we work out a way to save him. He always did have a knack for trouble when we allowed him free rein.”

“Yeah, and in the meantime, your girl just showed our worst threat that she’ll cave when push comes to shove,” Gladio said menacingly, leaning forward in her face.

“Gladio!” he said, angling her away.

“So that’s how it is? I’m ‘his girl’ now? After everything we’ve been through . . ..”

“Please don’t do this, you guys,” Prompto said, stepping up to Gladio and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Gladio brought a finger up to point directly into her face. “You and me? We’re done. I’ve had enough of the secrets. I trusted you with my life last night, with my king’s life, and then you go and pull this shit.”

“We’ll handle this when things are settled,” Ignis said with a glare, pulling Laura slightly further behind him. “Let’s find some ships first, locate Biggs and Wedge, pick up the Regalia, and see if we can’t locate these evacuation stations.” With a nod to Prompto, Ignis turned with Laura toward the opening that would lead them from the sphere room, fighting back the wave of nausea he felt at the prospect of leaving Noct behind.

“And you!” Gladio bellowed at their retreating backs. “You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that? Can’t stand a shred of ambiguity, but it defines the both of you.”

They ignored Gladio’s vitriol as they led the way up the catwalk to the sphere’s exit. When Laura faltered several steps down the walkway, Ignis believed at first that it was because she’d finally lost her battle in remaining upright. He bent to scoop her in his arms, but she stopped him.

“Telepathy’s mostly still out, but I can hear someone coming,” she whispered.

Ignis tilted his head and closed his eyes, stretching out his senses as far as he could as he motioned to the other two behind him to be still.

Nothing at first, but then . . . footsteps echoing across the metal grating . . . a woman, judging by the length of the stride and the pitch of the heel clacking as it hit the floor. He didn’t have to wonder long who it was or what threat she would pose to them in this vulnerable state because her voice rang out in the darkness.

“This what you guys call a stealth operation? I can hear you screaming at each other from the other end of the hall.”

“Aranea,” Ignis greeted cautiously.

“Great. Just what we need—another traitor to humanity,” Gladio grumbled. “We don’t got time to figure out what the hell to do with you right now, let alone how you managed to find us here.”

“I’m here to rescue your sorry asses. You think Biggs and Wedge can’t get a hold of me when they’re in trouble? And where else would you be? I’m not stupid. Now come on. Got a bunch of survivors waiting outside in the shipyard.”

Ignis exchanged a dubious look with Laura before they followed after her, leaving plenty of distance between them as she turned on her heel and strode confidently from the sphere.

“How many airships do you have? We may be able to pilot up to two more, and we’d like to pick up the Regalia just outside,” Ignis called out toward the fluttering flash of bright white fabric in the dim lighting.

“And we need to stop by the Imperial Library, if you have one of those here,” Laura added.

“I got plenty of airships—more than we have pilots for,” Aranea said. “I can tell ya where the library is, but I don’t have time to help ya check out any books. I’ve got work to do.”

She slapped the button to the lift and leaned back into her hip, crossing her arms with a huff when the door didn’t immediately open.

“You’ve got a lotta stuff to answer for,” Prompto said quietly, and Ignis turned in surprise to see his brow furrowed as he frowned at Aranea. “Noct told me he didn’t send you to look for me. How’d you know to look for me at that place?”

Aranea gave a one-shouldered shrug, pursing her lips together. “What can I say? I lied, kid. You looked like you needed the boost.”

“Then what were you doing in a Magitek Production Facility when we’d just seen you in Tenebrae?” Laura asked.

The metal doors glided open with a cheery _ding_ that was beginning to wear on Ignis’s nerves. The tension was palpable as the five of them stepped inside; Ignis could practically taste Rose’s and Prompto’s exhaustion, Gladio’s anger, and Aranea’s alertness on the air as the doors slid closed again and the lift hummed its way down the shaft.

“Back when I was a mercenary for the Empire, it was my job to gather daemons for weapons research.”

“In places such as Steyliff,” Ignis said.

She nodded. “My men were delivering them all kindsa places, and I got suspicious. Found out what they were doing and decided to take ‘em out. Been shutting down all the clone farms since after Altissia.”

“It’s more than that though,” Prompto said accusingly, still frowning over at her as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “I just realized—you can summon your weapons like we can.” He turned to Ignis, raising a finger to point back at Aranea. “I saw her summon a lance but like, in red.”

Ignis thought back to each of the times they’d fought with her, and now that he thought of it, he didn’t recall where or how she stored that spear of hers when she used it. She certainly wasn’t carrying anything at the moment, which was suspicious, considering how far into the Keep she had managed to infiltrate. But if Prompto’s assessment was correct, that would mean she was bound and loyal to someone with Caelum powers.

There was only one of those left in the world now.

If the atmosphere was tense in the tiny room before, it was nothing compared to now as Ignis let his expression turn hard and stepped toward Aranea. Even Gladio had decided to cast aside his fury in favor of straightening to tower over the potential threat. Everything was still for a moment—Ignis’s nerves stretched as tight as a piano wire—until the pressure in his head shifted and the doors opened with yet another cheerful _ding_ that he supposed he should grow used to, as many lifts as they would take to get to the bottom of this accursed building.

Aranea eyed the two of them warily. Slowly raising her hand in the air, she said, “Yeah, I can summon.”

A flash of red light compelled Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto to summon their weapons as Aranea’s stoss spear appeared in her hand, but she dismissed it immediately.

“That’s not really magic,” Laura said in a low voice, placing a hand on Ignis’s elbow.

He narrowed his eyes down at the woman staring up at him with wide, earnest eyes, scrutinizing her, before he dismissed his daggers. Though Prompto immediately followed suit, Ignis noticed that Gladio’s sword seemed to linger in his hand for a moment as he glowered before finally dismissing it.

Pushing past them with a scoff of disgust, Aranea continued escorting them toward the loading bay where the five of them had so recently fought together to take Ravus down, her head shifting left and right as she searched the area. Though Ignis trusted her self-preservational instincts, at the very least, he, too, kept his every sense trained on his surroundings—including Laura at his side and Gladio’s and Prompto’s steady breathing behind them.

“No, it’s not magic. There weren’t many people out there brave enough to try out the prototype, but hey, they paid me enough. And it turned out to be worth it in the end. Gotta love the air combat, but that spear’s a pain in the ass to carry around. The program was still in the early phases when they shut it down in favor of trooper production.”

“But if not from a Caelum, where does the power come from?” Ignis asked.

“Magitek. Didn’t ask too many questions beyond making sure it wasn’t gonna kill me. The power comes from a cube with this circular writing on it. Believe me, after learning about how the Power of Kings worked, I checked.”

“May we see it?”

“Ha! You angling for a date, loverboy? I’m not handing over my weapon in a place like this.”

“I think we have the gist of it anyway. Sounds like the Empire managed to reverse engineer ancient Solheimian technology. We already know Solheim played around with dimensional tech,” Laura said. In a softer voice, she added to Ignis, “And really, it seems like a rudimentary version of what James made for me.”

Though Laura’s pocket universe had once literally been her pocket (bigger on the inside), she had eventually tied it to her bonds with the TARDIS and Eilendil, creating an access portal more similar to their own. This was merely more evidence that Solheim was a progenitor of the Time Lord civilization, in her opinion.

“Be cautious,” Ignis warned as Aranea pressed the button to the cargo lift. “The last time we came through this way, the loading bay was crawling with daemons.”

“There were a couple when I passed through just a bit ago, but nothing major,” Aranea said with a smug smile. “If there’re more, I’m sure we can handle ‘em.”

As they exited the lift and skirted warily around the edge of the empty loading bay, Ignis felt the golden thread in his head spark. Should they not encounter any more resistance on their way down, it would only be a matter of minutes before that nagging discomfort of their disconnection was resolved. With any luck, whatever moment that had transpired between Laura and Ardyn when she’d stepped in front of Gladio’s sword would have earned them at least the slightest bit of respite, even if he did fear for what that twisted man had in store for the long road ahead.


	81. Chapter 81

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief mention of vomiting, mild violence, mild horror, and death.

Trina opened her heavy, gritty eyes, almost subconsciously reaching out for Ettie’s thigh next to her own numb legs stretched out in front of her on the hard, industrial-carpeted floor. Blinking blearily down the aisle of beige metal shelving lined with boxes, she could just make out the dimmest of lights at the store’s entrance. Thank Ifrit; they would be leaving this terrible place soon.

A soft, warm hand slid over hers as she gently squeezed Ettie’s thigh. Soon. They would be safe by the time the sun set this afternoon.

Seeing that several of her fellow refugees huddled on the floor nearby had turned on their travel lights to pass the time reading or writing, she decided to do the same, pulling the newspaper out of the backpack in her lap and switching on the light clipped to her heavy, down-lined coat. Though part of her was expecting the sight, she couldn’t help but flinch as the light fell on the fifty pairs of vacant, lifeless doll’s eyes staring at her from the endcap of the aisle at her feet.

Perhaps turning on the light hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

Suppressing the shiver already beginning to raise the hairs on the back of her neck—really, she was being ridiculous—she turned her attention to the folded paper in her hands.

**Lestallum Times**

**December 756**

**_Lestallum Mayor: Monarchy not dead. Changes for Lucian provisional government in store. (Page 2)_ **

**_Cor Leonis calls off search for Prince Noctis citing divine intervention. Faith in gospel of True King growing shaky. (Page 2)_ **

**_Niflian refugees claiming racism over supposed shoddy craftmanship of new Pegglar Outlook District. (Page 3)_ **

**_Kenny Crow a Glaive? Speculations on the origins of this enigmatic warrior. (Page 6)_ **

**Phony Cosmogony: The Truth Brought to Light**

The people of Eos have relied on the Cosmogony’s words for an accounting of the Six and the founding of Lucis for our basis of worship and the curriculum in our schools, but its mysterious origins (who was Nadir?) and the fact that it never once mentions the ancient kingdom of Solheim signifies that some heavy editing has been done to our history. Is what we know accurate? 

The return of researchers from Niflheim two months ago has brought evidence that the Cosmogony may have been twisted even more than suspected. Deep in the annals of the fallen empire’s library, documents were discovered that corroborate with findings in tombs around Eos, suggesting that Solheim had a greater hand in our current predicament than anyone could guess.

Decimated by the long war with Ifrit before the other Five joined mankind, the once worldwide kingdom of Solheim had been reduced nearly to extinction, existing as scattered pockets of agrarian communities across the globe that would eventually form the countries we know today.

Right around the time the mages and scientists inexplicably disappeared, leaving the populace to regress to a primitive existence, they sought to end the war by creating several weapons capable of taking Ifrit down. The Starscourge was one of these weapons that got out of control. 

That scourge, in addition to the power vacuums left in the wake of the war, brought humanity to the brink of extinction. The Cosmogony tells us that the other Five stepped in to save humanity and the planet, gifting the Founder King with the Ring that would channel the power of the Crystal his house protected. Together with the first Oracle, Somnus Lucis Caelum was somehow able to set the darkness that plagued our star dormant for nearly two millennia. But is that the true story? Given how heroic the Founder King and the Five appear in this tale, this reporter has doubts. ( _See page 2 for more.)_

**Starscourge Sourced from Solheim**

Findings brought back from the recent research trip to the Western Continent have confirmed that not only was Niflheim using Solheimian artifacts extensively as inspiration for their Magitek creations of war, but also that that selfsame ancient kingdom created the scourge that plagues our skies and soil today. Dr. Sania Yeagre of the newly-formed Eosian Science Institution (ESI) has already discovered that a malarial plasmodium is the vehicle for the virus, which transforms humans and animals and emits the photophilic particles responsible for darkening our skies. But its origins suggest that it hails from a period of our history almost as dark—the War of the Astrals.

The research reports of Solheimian archaeological sites bring to light that Solheim intended to use the scourge on a seventh Astral as an experiment. Recent evidence found in ruins near Ravatogh suggests this experiment was to determine if it was possible to control the imprisoned goddess’s powers and test the biological weapon to end the war against Ifrit. ( _For shocking proof of a seventh Astral, see page 6._ )

Dr. Yeagre’s research team has thus far been unable to determine the components of this disease, but a new addition to the ESI from the Niflian research team may mean that answers are coming soon. “I look forward to working with Dr. Scientia,” Dr. Yeagre says with a sparkle of hope in her eye, “but we’ve got a lot of problems to solve over here, and her skills are needed in several fields.”

Anyone interested in joining the Eosian Science Institute can leave a message for Dr. Yeagre with Vyv Dorden at Meteor Publishing headquarters in Lestallum. Note that combat experience is preferred but not required.

**MTs: They Are Us**

With Commodore Aranea Highwind’s reports of MTs going rogue just before Gralea’s fall, this reporter decided to sit down with the dragoon to find out more about the secrets behind those stony green masks.

“They used to be human, but they’re daemons now,” she states matter-of-factly. “Verstael Besithia extracted plasmodic miasma from infected lab-grown people and injected the daemonic soul into a Magitek core. The result is a deathless soldier; that’s why it was called the ‘Deathless Project’ in the first place. You gotta destroy the core if you wanna kill the soldier.”

Unfortunately, there is no core to destroy on the MTs’ pure daemon counterparts. Rumors from Hunters and Glaives alike are spreading. Even with the minimization of daemon hunting due to new laws forbidding anyone from killing a daemon without a license or life-threatening circumstances, teams are having to repeatedly dispatch to emergency problem areas for similar daemons multiple times. “And the things are just getting harder to kill,” says one Hunter, “like they remember us fighting them before.”

This suggestion that daemons may be immortal with a set time for respawning is a frightening one, as the release of more daemonic miasma in the air only increases the darkness that plagues our land, killing our already dwindling crops. “Rations are already tight enough as it is,” Dr. Sania Yeagre of the ESI states. “With the hours of daylight steadily decreasing and growing weaker, we may not be able to sustain ourselves after a year, even with the new farming techniques being implemented in Lestallum. And let’s not even discuss what will happen if they overrun oil drilling operations in Leide.”

With the sun’s light growing ever weaker, our only hope for naturally killing off the blight dwindles. Sporadic sightings of daemons during daylight hours proves that it’s only a matter of time before humanity will be plagued with former citizens at all hours of the day and night.

“And that’s not all we have to worry about,” Highwind adds. “Mass disappearances of human soldiers just before the fall of Gralea and the involvement of that creepy Chancellor can’t mean anything good. We need to keep an eye out for whatever Chancellor Izunia is up to.”

If anyone has any information regarding this disturbing development, please contact Vyv Dorden at Meteor Publishing headquarters in Lestallum.

***

Trina lowered the paper to her lap and let her head fall against the slatwall behind her, shifting silently in an effort to work out the throbbing spasm that had developed just to the left of her lower spine. Water must have somehow seeped into this carpet somewhere; she could feel the scent of the mildew tickling at her nose every time she inhaled. More than one person had been forced to stifle a sneeze this evening, which would have doomed them all to death. Between that and the frequent, terrifying trips to the employee restroom in back all night, it was a wonder the forty of them had made it this long without being detected.

She was beginning to think she and Ettie would have been better off evacuating on their own. Despite Ettie’s involvement with the provisional government of Insomnia, they’d relied far too much on public services for keeping them alive in recent months, in her opinion. And this absurd declination of the number of news sources in recent weeks chafed at the researcher in her, made her long for the days when she could fact check several reports at once to determine what was truth and what was merely dramatization.

There was a time when she had received breaking news mere hours after it had happened—verified, sourced, and accurate—but with the seat of the provisional government relocated to Lestallum, Insomnia’s press had shriveled into nonexistence as more of her contacts either moved away or disappeared, leaving her to scrounge off monthlies from the outlands that were already over a month old. Perhaps grabbing this newest paper as she was forced to leave her new home instead of bringing her life’s research was a sign of how dire the times had become—though she supposed the news itself made that concept evident enough. What was going on in the world today was far more important than delving into a twenty-two-year-old assassination attempt on a now dead king.

But Trina was unfamiliar with these outlander publications and this Vyv Dorden, who seemed to be the media mogul behind all of them. She’d researched his main writer, a Dino Ghiranze of Galdin Quay, and the fact that he was listed first as a jeweler didn’t exactly inspire much confidence in the paper’s veracity.

Still, it was all she had now. With the King missing and the search called off by the Crownsguard Marshal, of all people, her hope was diminishing as quickly as the sun’s light. But this newest edition of the paper contained several leads for her to follow up on if she survived this evacuation. Aranea Highwind was certainly a source of information on news from Gralea, but the person she was most interested in tracking down was this mysterious Dr. Scientia. That name couldn’t be a coincidence, surely? She had been under the impression there were no other Scientias left in the world.

“Dunno why you bother reading that garbage,” the man sitting cross-legged on her other side whispered, nodding down at the headlines across the top of the page. “My brother used to work in the Prince’s apartment building—says he’s nothin’ more than a stupid kid. I don’t care what Cor says. That idiot’s not gonna save us, just like Regis didn’t lift a finger to save us.”

“Quiet!” their Glaive escort—she believed his name was Phine—whispered. “We got another ten minutes before the sun’s strong enough. Get ready to move.”

This time, it was Ettie’s hand she felt on her thigh as she leaned back once again, closing her eyes to block out the eerie sight in front of her, but she still felt as though she was being intensely watched. She could see those dolls’ vapid, empty smiles from behind her eyelids, and this time, she truly did shiver.

Of all the places their two escorts could have chosen for their group of refugees to hide as the sun sank below the horizon, this toy store at the end of a shopping mall abandoned the day of the Fall would have been the last on her list of choices. There had been too many of them to make it as far as officials had expected them to, with elderly and children among their group. Had they been quieter and more capable, they could have pressed onward through the night to meet the fleet of vehicles waiting for them outside the circle of destruction the Empire had slowly been clearing in rings out from the city’s center—before they’d abandoned the people to fend for themselves. But a group of forty protected by two Glaives with the weak sun setting for the afternoon . . . even with her non-existent military experience, she knew that the most elite training didn’t make up for the tactical nightmare they had found themselves in.

She stole a surreptitious glance of their guides, Phine and Signa—Signa asleep under his Glaive coat draped over his chest and Phine keeping lookout as he stared wearily down his own aisle toward the store’s entrance. Both soldiers were so very young—practically her son’s age, had he still been alive today. The deepest recesses of her heart, the parts of her grasping desperately for some sort of silver lining in this mess, were somewhat relieved not to have to see her son’s beautiful features turn hard with war as she’d seen on so many youths these days. She preferred to remember him as she’d seen him in the backgrounds of photos in the paper—quietly serene and standing tall.

Their son was the only reason they had remained in Insomnia for so long after the fall—in the slimmest of hopes that they’d been wrong about his death and that he would come looking for them when his duties allowed. Honestly, they’d lingered far too long in the fading jewel of Lucis; she and Ettie were part of the last group to be evacuated after EXINERIS had lost the entire power grid to all of Lucis. Though they’d been promised that power was slowly being restored, Insomnia’s distance from the life-sustaining meteor shards scattered around Duscae meant they would likely be the last region to see service again, especially considering the most recent news from the Glaives that they were attempting to set up new lines from Lestallum instead of trying to repair Insomnia’s destroyed power plants.

It was probably for the best that they abandon the city, no matter how much it pained her to leave the home of her ancestors, of her fallen king. Though leaving felt like finally admitting defeat at the hands of the now absent Empire, they had to accept the fact that the increasing daemon population, the sheer square footage to protect, and the scarcity of food and supplies meant that Insomnia was no longer safe for anyone to inhabit any longer. Daylight hours weren’t even an absolute guarantee of safety from attacks these last few days. Trina and Ettie both had had to test out their burgeoning self-defense skills twice in the last week alone when flans had oozed up from the ground as they returned from picking up their vital food rations.

“All right should be safe enough now,” Phine murmured as he rose to his feet and lightly kicked at Signa’s outstretched legs to wake him.

Signa stretched and yawned silently, careful not to disturb the haphazard, plaster-covered pile of potentially-yipping robotic puppies next to him. Standing to his full height, he ran his fingers over his half-shaved scalp and up into his pink, floppy mohawk. “Keep up and keep quiet, or you’re gonna end up daemon food.”

The rustle of fabric and nearly silent groans of so many people pushing themselves to their feet after so many hours on the damp and grimy carpeting sounded like an alarm in the close space. She could feel Ettie as he immediately rose to his feet and bent to assist her in standing while others sighed and grumbled their weariness after the long night spent in tense silence. She teetered for a moment as her numb legs took her weight and the pins and needles prickled from her hips to her toes. Once she was relatively confident she could remain standing, she looked up at Ettie to send him a silent ‘thank you.’

Studying her husband’s face, she could see his weariness manifested in the way his blue-grey eyes had grown dull, the pale skin underneath his lower lashes had sagged and darkened. Though she herself felt almost disconnected from her body after the night’s unrest, she raised her eyebrows and frowned a little, questioningly. The corner of his lips twitched up ever so slightly—always putting on a brave face no matter how dire things seemed. Smoothing her hands down the lapels of his wool coat, she smiled back reassuringly before picking up her backpack and taking several stumbling steps forward, past a child’s play kitchen and a life-sized, headless LEGO child.

Relatively young though they still were, they were both growing too old for this.

Her stride didn’t fully recover until they had exited the little shop, but the vast, echoing communal space of the mall, covered in a shimmering sheen of filth and frost, made her shiver. She thrust her hands in her coat pocket as she carefully hastened around puddles of shattered glass from broken storefronts scattered across the dirty polished tile; underneath the frozen escalators blanketed in pieces of broken drywall and dust; and past the dark carousel of cartoonish chocobos frozen silently in mid-stride. The ghost of that gods-awful musak seemed to dance on the air and tickle at her ears despite the fact that this place likely hadn’t seen electricity in months. Looking up to the broken skylights, she could see that the sun hadn’t yet fully risen—not a good sign for them, but how far were they from the rendezvous? Would they have time in the five hours or so of daylight to reach it?

“Keep close to the Glaive,” Ettie whispered so low that she almost couldn’t hear him, but he touched her elbow and pulled her so that they would be positioned more closely to Phine. Everyone else had the same idea, of course, and Trina shook her head, her light brown hair swinging against her chin as she tried her best to communicate through her expression alone that if they all crowded him, he’d be able to defend no one. There were people less skilled in combat than the two of them in this group, and though her shortsword would do little against a red giant, she could likely handle a goblin—as long as there wasn’t more than one.

Forty pairs of feet froze when a creaking groan sounded from behind them, reverberating over the cavernous halls and eerily resembling the sound a giant made as he ripped his way out of the ground.

Trina turned cautiously along with the rest of them in search of the sound, her hand going to the hilt on her thigh. Signa was the first to spot the source and pointed toward the store at the end of the mall. The bald head of a mannequin, half her face smashed in at some point during the invasion, was teetering precariously on her shattered neck as she posed proudly in front of a shot-up PJ Marshall’s. Trina held her breath, praying to Ifrit’s lost soul that it would settle without falling.

But Ifrit hadn’t been answering her prayers for some time now.

The resounding clatter that rushed down the long passage of the mall as the head bounced off the mannequin’s body and along the tiled floor may as well have been a military engagement for as loud and long as it was. At the whispering rush that surrounded them nearly immediately, Trina whirled to the nearest Glaive for instructions.

“Run!” Phine barked.

Crowded as they all were around the two greatest hopes for their survival, there wasn’t much space to take a stride in any direction as she was elbowed and buffeted from all sides by screaming bodies. Panic seized her chest as she whipped her head around to look for Ettie, only to find a dark-haired stranger trying to shove her aside in an attempt to get closer to Phine.

“Ettie!” she screamed before she could stop herself. Everyone was screaming _something_ right now—nearly drowning out the sound of her voice in her own ears as she tried to jump up and down to spot his nearly white-blonde hair over the crowd.

She had just registered the flash of red muscle and flaming sword as a drawn-out moan thundered over the raised voices of the crowd pushing Trina toward the nearest exit, and she felt something smash against her spine, sending her sliding and sprawling against the grimy, freezing tile. She had only a moment to hope that Ettie was still all right when a second blow landed on the back of her head, plunging her into darkness.

***

“Hey. You alive? Wake up.”

The throb pulsing at the back of her neck was shooting down her spine directly to her stomach, which was burning and rolling uncomfortably in her belly. She didn’t want to open her eyes. The prospect of doing so, thinking at all, in fact, wasn’t doing much to help her current physical state. A tight knot rose in her throat, threatening to choke her, and she threw herself to her side just as her meagre ration from the night before clawed its way up her esophagus and spilled onto the body of a young, dark-haired woman lying torn to shreds next to her, adding a facet of deep shame and horror to the already nightmarish experience.

“Probably got a concussion. Sorry, can’t heal ya,” a man’s deep and rough voice said softly as she turned away from the body with a mental plea for forgiveness. “Never was good at magic. Can you stand?”

Keeping her eyes locked on the floor to keep it from spinning, she nodded, reaching for his outstretched hand hovering in her peripheral vision. When the world stopped whirling around her and she felt as though she could open her eyes without falling over, she turned in a circle and searched the ground frantically, half-hoping she would see Ettie’s golden head poking up to look for her, half-hoping he had escaped with the others. She let out a breath when she didn’t catch sight of him, but squinting into the dim and attempting to cast aside her grief at the sight of the seven dead bodies surrounding them, she wondered exactly how long she’d been unconscious.

Judging by how little she could see as she examined the area, daemoning hour was nearly upon them again.

Dark brown eyes and tanned skin leaned into her line of sight, searching her face. Phine—so her situation wasn’t nearly as dire as she’d thought. “We gotta move. We can’t stay here.”

Fighting against the disconnect between her brain and her body, she trotted behind him past a fountain—silent and placid, still shining with copper-colored centes and gold crowns—filled with wishes that never came true.  The sight didn’t stop her from wishing for Ettie’s safety as she held the straps of her bag more tightly to keep it from bouncing against her aching back.

“We got half an hour to make it as far as we can,” he whispered as he held a hand out to stop her, peering around the shattered glass doors of the entrance they’d come through the day before. “You’re gonna have to suck it up and follow, or you’re gonna get us both killed. Got it, lady?”

Trina bristled at his remark, the heat rising in her cheeks as she attempted to bite back a rebuttal—as though it were her fault they were attacked! But she was exhausted, which, in her mind, was an excuse to grow somewhat lax in her usual courtesy.

Raising her chin in the air, she managed to say with barely a croak in her voice, “The correct form of address is either My Lady or Your Ladyship, thank you. And in case you haven’t noticed, I _am_ ‘sucking it up,’ as you say, despite an injury and a missing husband.”

“Just fucking great,” Phine muttered. “Thought I remembered you having an accent. I’m stuck here with no backup and Insomnian nobility—pampered parasites, all of you.”

Stepping out into the desolate street behind him, she hunched her shoulders against the chill of the wind whipping through the buildings and through her coat. Even for January, it was far too bitterly cold. Given everything else this cursed evacuation had endured, she supposed it was a small mercy that it wasn’t snowing in addition to everything else.

She’d had hours yesterday to grow used to the creaking of half-blasted doors swinging on hinges and the dead rustling of paper and trash brushing and bouncing against the pavement. Still, that didn’t mean she’d yet acquired the talent for looking away whenever she saw another full set of clothes—a three-piece suit and a bright blue tie across a bench at a bus shelter this time—lying fully assembled where its formerly-human occupant had surrendered to their malady.

“At least I’m not a traitor,” she finally hissed once they’d passed through an intersection and turned south toward the road that would lead to the bridge and checkpoint out of the city.

He didn’t pause as he led her past a once opulent Lucis Bank—its crumbling, carved marble columns still holding up bronze signs proclaiming them ‘The Royal Bank of Grand Insomnia.’ Trina averted her eyes from yet another message spray painted across the boarded-up door: ‘Lucy and Gerard Reardon are alive in Old Lestallum. Mark—please meet us there if you made it. Astrals bless us all.’

“Wouldn’t know,” Phine grunted. “Don’t remember a thing from that day.”

So, he was one of _those_. Definitely a traitor then—there could be no other explanation for why so many of them seemed to turn up out of the blue one day all claiming to have lost their memories.

“The rampart’s about three miles from here. Not gonna ask if you can make it, cause you’re either gonna, or you’re gonna die.”

Now that they were on the main road, she knew their location better than he did, likely, as she and Ettie were two of the few citizens with free rein to leave and return to the city for their work—well, her work—Ettie’s not nearly as often these days. Judging by recent conversations with the Glaives, she and Ettie came and went even more frequently than those who had spent most of their military careers on the other side of the Wall engaged in skirmishes with Niflheim throughout the kingdom.

She may have lost track of the time as banks and jewelry stores seemed to drop off into tattoo parlors, seedy bars, and Galahdian food stalls as they traveled lower and lower beneath the many layered streets of the city. Despite being born into a very old noble family, this section of Insomnia was well-familiar to her. On her way home from a research trip, she would often pass through this way to indulge in a few of the city’s best semur skewers before making the long journey to the tree-lined streets of the Sorwester District on the outskirts near the southwestern border of the Wall.

Her mother would likely have been appalled to see what had become of her life—leaving the safety of the Wall, immersing herself in plebian culture, and even going so far as to marry a foreigner.

“Fuck,” Phine cursed under his breath—likely at some stimulus her wandering mind hadn’t picked up on. “This way.”

Grabbing the sleeve of her coat, he pulled her under a covered porch crowded with worn and weary wooden tables and rickety, rusted stools. Stepping up next to the food stall window, which was lined with dried-grass cactuar figurines, cheery yellow bowls, and strings of rotted garlic, Phine cupped his hands and jerked his head toward the interior of the stall. Understanding, she silently placed her knee in his palms and allowed him to hoist her over the counter. She didn’t wait for him to leap over, choosing instead to collapse against the rear corner of corrugated sheet metal and close her eyes. The thunk of his boots on the boarded floor made her jerk involuntarily, and she opened them again to watch him settle in the corner across from her in the small space.

As he folded his legs beneath him, he said quietly, “Don’t fall asleep on me. You might not wake up again. Gotta wait till these salpinxes pass. Can’t take on a group by myself, and I’m bettin’ you’re not worth as much as the blade you’re carryin’ when it comes to combat.”

As much as she wished she could retort something scathing, he was technically right, so she settled for her famous withering glare as she clicked her teeth shut.

His response was a wry smile. “You don’t like me, do you? Cushy little courtier living her life safe behind the Wall with those soft excuses for Crownsguard, making decisions for everyone while the rest of us have a choice: service to the King, service to the Hunters, or if you got a cunt, service to EXINERIS. Slavery all three ways, if you ask me, and we still lose our homes cause Regis wouldn’t fight for us.”

“King Regis founded the Glaive, gave you all a job, and lent you his power, and how do you repay him? My son and brother were in the Crownsguard,” she did her best to snap while still whispering. “My boy was barely a man, and he died in _loyal_ service to his king, shortly after my brother died on the very same day _you_ all turned.” Her voice lost all power by the last word as she attempted to hold in the tears that always seemed to come to her eyes every time she thought of him, of the both of them.

She never should have listened to Ettie about staying away for his safety and his career. Regret burned at her every memory of him, her beautiful baby boy. What would he have thought of them for abandoning him, were he still alive today? Had he worried for them during the Fall? Had he thought of them when he’d died? She didn’t even have any pictures of him all grown up, save for what she’d clipped from the papers and tucked away in the little bag she had filled with the precious few items she could carry as they left.

Their little shack had fallen silent again, and she looked up to try and discern Phine’s expression at her quiet outburst. But it had grown dark so very quickly, as it did every afternoon these days. The sun no longer set—merely seemed to grow weak and disappear behind a cloud, leaving her to wonder if it had died or if it would ever rise again. She could barely make out his proud profile sitting stiffly in the fleeting light, and she idly, painfully, wondered if her son had been betrayed by one of his own as this one had likely murdered a faithful Glaive or two.

His face snapped up to the window above him as the sound of footsteps grew closer, changing in pitch from high clicks against the concrete to low clunking against the wooden boards of the porch just outside. Placing a finger on his lips and getting to his feet to crouch low, he summoned a weapon to his hand—some sort of bow that looked like a gun, she believed. Ever so slowly, he stood and peered around the wall over the counter.

Trina couldn’t even manage to scream as arcs of deep purple lightning formed a solid bridge of light between Phine’s body and the unseen source outside, burning through his Glaive coat and charring a hole through his instantly blistered chest. The sheer force of the power flung his body against the rear wall of the shack with a deafening metallic clang before he slid down with a sickening scrape of flesh against the exposed nuts and bolts. She covered her mouth with both hands as he came to rest, slumping against the wall he’d only just left a few seconds ago.

Scurrying to press herself against the front wall of the shack beneath the window, her frantic, fuzzy head scrabbled for any sort of plan, but she was never any good at this sort of thing. While she was quietly falling apart here in this skewer shack and at a loss at how to live through this, Ettie was likely calmly and rationally working on a plan for her extraction—probably silently urging her to remain calm despite her situation. She’d always hated and loved that about him.

Urging her shaking knees to bear her weight as she stood, Trina shrank further into the corner and fumbled for the hilt of her shortsword. The shuffling of whatever daemon had killed Phine was growing closer, sounding more like multiple, large people flinging aside the patio furniture. Even if by some miracle she was able to slay the thing that had killed a Glaive in his prime, the racket it was making was sure to draw enough to this location to finish her off before the sun rose again in another eighteen to twenty hours.

If she was going to die anyway, she may as well do it in a blaze, looking death in the eye with her own blistering malachite fire. Taking one last lungful of air, she readied her blade and prepared herself to meet her fate.

“Oi!” a girl’s voice shouted over the ringing of what sounded like a metal stool being slapped into the rail. “You in the shack; hang tight in there, yeah? I’ll be with you in a moment.” Something hit the other side of wall Trina was leaning against, vibrating hard against her back and threatening to rattle the metal right off its frame. After a second, the stranger’s voice came again. “Ohhh kay, make that a couple of minutes. But get ready to run!”

Trina was able to wait patiently for nearly a minute—resting her pounding head against the wall and calming her racing heart as the crashing grew a little further away from her hiding place—before self-preservation surrendered to curiosity. Casting a wary side-eye at Phine’s still-smoking body, she was careful not to poke her head more than a few inches around the window frame to try and catch a glimpse at the source of her thwarted demise and savior.

She spotted the three salpinxes first, their skinny little legs pumping frantically to catch up to a spider-type daemon—an ariadne, if she recalled her studies correctly, capable sending out branches of forked lightning that could obviously stop a man’s heart instantly. The ariadne’s ice-blue bouffant seemed to shimmer in an aura of light that exuded from her humanoid crystalline body as she crouched down on all eight legs and leapt almost three meters in the air toward a single, solitary human figure—a girl, Trina thought. It was difficult to tell in this gloom.

A burst of fire from the girl’s hands lit up the scene just long enough for Trina to discern her figure and come to several conclusions. She was a Glaive—a mage, judging by her uniform—and a damned powerful one, judging by how forcefully the ariadne was slammed against the door of an adult comic book store several meters behind her. The girl was . . . gods, so young—absurdly so.

Had Trina not been familiar with the Royal Family, she would have thought King Regis had had a secret daughter with Queen Aulea just before she died. She was stunning with that royal coloring and complexion—a warrior princess that danced with the four daemons as seemingly effortlessly as ballerina at the Royal Ballet. She moved at the speed of the bright white light that poured from her hands and through her gleaming blades—spinning, twisting, and circling as those ornate, sparkling swords spiraled in graceful, flashing slashes. She almost seemed to fly as she leapt into the air to avoid a terrifying arc of fatal lightning as it licked its way toward her.

As frivolous arts such as ballet no longer existed in a post-apocalyptic world, Trina supposed it was entirely possible that the girl actually had been a potential ballet prodigy at one point before being forced to take up a sword to stay alive. But the way she handled her weapons as extensions of her hands indicated long and hard years dedicated to intensive study.

To Trina’s surprise, the ariadne was the first to fall, crumpling like a puppet with her strings cut as the girl jumped lightly onto the spider’s back and swiped a sword cleanly through her neck, beheading her. Trina caught the flash of the ariadne’s green and gold skirt fluttering to the ground before the Queen Spider’s body disappeared in a pool of miasma. The demise of the salpinxes seemed a simple matter after that, falling quickly and easily after several flashes of fire and deadly pirouettes.

Trina found herself growing more and more angry as she watched with reluctant awe, that flush of heat rising in her cheeks as she attempted to bite down the emotion. Where had this superhuman creature been this entire time as they’d suffered through the invasion, the occupation, the daemon attacks, the death of the Oracle, and the disappearance of the King? Where was she when her brother and son had been murdered?

When the last daemon had melted into the wooden boards at her feet, the girl shoved her blades sharply into thin air with a flash of silver light and a whoosh of breathy air. The girl’s shadow looked up suddenly in Trina’s direction before she lunged across the counter without a word, grabbing Trina’s limp, freezing hand in her comfortably warm one.

“Run!” she whispered fiercely.

If Trina wasn’t mistaken, she thought she could detect a manic sort of elation in her voice, as though the girl were inexplicably overjoyed to simply be alive.

Silently thanking whichever of the Six had come to her rescue, Trina did her best to shove aside her pain and heartache, revel in the fact that she was still alive to find Ettie, and run hand-in-hand with this child that had appeared from nowhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many of the details and lore were taken from Comrades and Talcott's speech in the main game, but just as with everything else, I may have deviated more than a bit here and there from canon. 
> 
> My thanks to Mouse Marple from the reddit Discord for her assistance with the imagery on this chapter!


	82. Chapter 82

Trina had attempted to ignore the pounding in her head, choosing to instead concentrate on attenuating the pounding of her feet on the hard asphalt—both for her brain’s sake and for the sake of not attracting yet another horde as she and the strange girl raced through the dark city streets. But it seemed as though once she had turned forty and beyond, she’d lost the ability to perform such feats as sleeping upright on a hard floor, receiving a sharp blow to the head, and running for her life within the span of a few hours. She stumbled on a stretch of what she assumed to be perfectly even asphalt, unable to see as far as her toes in the dark.

The girl halted the instant Trina’s weight dragged against her arm, and she turned to wedge another arm beneath Trina’s to hold her upright.

“You’re dead on your feet. You’re not going to make it, are you?” the girl said easily, as though they hadn’t been sprinting flat-out for the last three blocks. “Sorry. I’ve been hanging out with this group of twenty-year-olds, and I forget sometimes.”

She must not have required a response, which was fortunate for Trina, because the only word she could manage between her gasping breaths was a most indecorous “Umm.”

The girl ducked under Trina’s arm, fully supporting her weight as she replied in that accent that so clearly identified her as high nobility, “All right, let’s find a safe place to get you settled for the night, yeah?”

Growing lightheaded, the only response Trina could give was a nod, which she hoped the girl could somehow perceive in the dark. She seemed to have understood, as she stepped off the main road immediately, nearly carrying Trina along at a brisk walk down a narrow side street that, if her memory served her correctly, served as the border between Galahdian Town and Southie territory.

Of course, even the Southies weren’t immune to the scourge. This ancient biological weapon of war distinguished not between friend and foe, and now even the most perilous sections of Insomnia were rendered silent and docile . . . as long as they didn’t awaken the daemons that had taken up residence there instead.

Trina stumbled awkwardly along next to the girl as the high buildings blocked out what little ambient light the sky provided, plunging them into darkness. Though she longed more than anything to be able to turn on the travel lamp on her chest, reports were only just recently coming in to suggest that traveling in the dark, if possible, was best for avoiding detection. But the girl’s step didn’t falter for a moment as they continued to scurry along, and Trina idly wondered how such a young woman so clearly highborn could be familiar enough with this place as to not need to see where she was going.

A hand on her shoulder stopped her in what she assumed to be the middle of the street, and as they turned together, Trina was just about to demand what they were doing when she flinched at the sudden flash of silver light and a whispered word she’d never heard before.

“Ráva.”

The brief second of illumination allowed Trina a glimpse of her dark-haired rescuer up close, her face lit up from her magic as she stared down with her hand outstretched toward a door handle. The light faded, bleaching out Trina’s optical senses and leaving her even more blinded than she had been before, but she could still hear the rusty creak of hinges as the girl swung the door open. She felt a hand on her shoulder pushing her forward before tightening to keep her still.

“You’re standing at the top of a set of stairs that leads down to the basement. We can turn a light on as soon as we shut the door,” she whispered. “Take a couple steps down.”

Trina blindly obeyed, edging her feet forward until the curl of her toes indicated the end of the step. When she heard the gentle thunk of the door closing behind her, she allowed herself a brief moment of panic to breathe against the air, which had instantly grown still, thick, and stale in this impenetrable black space.

The second was over, however, as another rush of breathy wind illuminated her from behind, and she turned to look up into the eyes of a child that couldn’t have been any older than her son would have been, possibly younger. The dim, blue-white orb she held in her hands pulsed ever so slightly with the girl’s breath, as though her life force were powering the illumination.

The combination of her appearance, accent, and that Glaive uniform was perplexing, though. Trina had never heard of a noble family pledging their child in service to the Kingsglaive. Though it wasn’t unheard of for an Insomnian commoner to display the ability to wield the full force of the King’s magic and join the war against Niflheim, nobles tended to prefer to pledge their children to the Crownsguard and keep them behind the safety of the Wall—or in some other service to the King, as she and Ettie had done.

“I—I, must thank you for coming to my rescue. Had you not arrived, I would have been dead for certain by dawn,” Trina stammered as she studied the girl’s oddly calm expression.  “What’s your name, dear?”

“My name’s Laura. And you?”

She hesitated for a moment, surprised by the girl’s commoner name and informal introduction. Surely that accent and that coloring couldn’t be steering her logic false? But she herself had taken to using a nickname that sounded more common than it was. Deciding it would be most courteous to respond in kind, she refrained from using her full name and title so as not to appear arrogant in the face of the girl’s kindness.

“My name is Trina.”

“Pleased to meet you, Trina. We should be safe in here for the evening.” She gestured for her to continue down the stairs. “Why don’t we see what we have to work with and how much I’ll have to pull out to make this space comfortable for the evening?”

Dread cascaded over her head down to her feet, and she could feel the color draining from her face at the prospect of remaining here all evening when Ettie was out there somewhere, possibly in danger.

“We have to go back out soon,” she exhaled in a rush, but she obeyed the girl’s flapping hands and turned to step down the narrow wooden staircase. “I was with a group . . . my husband was with them. I must find him.”

“We know. My husband and Cor are out searching for them. I was helping, but I think I was able to pass on enough information for them to be found soon.”

“The Marshal was brought in for this operation?” Trina breathed in relief as her step faltered. Without thinking, she added, “Astrals, you’re too young to have a husband; you’re too young for any of this.”

“Lucis has some strange ideas about what’s expected of its children, so the news shouldn’t be too surprising.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she sighed. “Doubtless you’ve been out of the city with the Glaive enough to know that that isn’t the case elsewhere.”

Despite what that poor dead Glaive had thought of her, Trina had grown up in Insomnia’s middle class—lower nobility. Despised by high nobility and believed to be privileged and useless by the common, there was no safe place for Trina to turn to other than those of equal status. Like many of their kind, Trina’s parents had raised her with high expectations, determined to throw off their undeserved reputation and prove that their child could compete with the superior education and training of any of the old houses. She’d also had the added burden of being the only daughter from a long line of royal retainers, and as with her brother, her profession had been chosen for her since as long as she could remember.

Trina had brought pride to her humble yet ancient house, becoming a historian for King Mors at the tender age of fifteen and taking on more responsibilities as tenuous relations with Niflheim crumbled and King Regis took the throne. It was the way of life in Insomnia—one she’d never questioned until she’d had to leave on assignment and had seen how differently children were treated in countries like Tenebrae. Even Ettie—talented, dedicated, and hardworking though he was—was often baffled by her lack of what he considered a true childhood. Apparently, pressures hadn’t been applied to him until she had already taken her lifelong position with His Majesty, and even then, Ettie had had the freedom to choose his destiny to a certain degree.

Still, she’d never wanted to rebel against the practice until the time had come to put her own son up for service.

The light from behind Trina brightened as she stepped off the stairs and warily searched the cramped space. It appeared to be the sort of storage area that doubled as a break room for employees upstairs. Stacks of unlabeled boxes were piled almost to the ceiling, nearly obscuring the flaking red paint on the concrete walls. The exposed dark beams of the ceiling made the already small space seem oppressive, yet the sight of the ratty, brown couch pushed up underneath the stairs was the most welcome thing Trina had seen all day.

Laura angled herself around Trina’s frozen form, placing the orb on a wooden crate serving as a makeshift coffee table in front of the sofa before striding to the far corner of the room. She opened a split and peeling wooden door and poked her head inside.

“There’s a bathroom here,” she said, her voice muffled by the thin walls. “I doubt there’s running water, but I can give you some from my stores. Why don’t you take a moment and freshen up, and then we’ll see about that head injury?”

Trina touched her hand lightly to the back of her head, where she could feel the dried, caked blood making her hair stiff and crunchy each time she turned her neck. The injury must have appeared more gruesome than she’d thought, if Laura had spotted it as they were going downstairs.

She couldn’t see how Laura planned on healing her, but still she said on a sigh, “That sounds heavenly.”

Once Laura had summoned a jug of water, Trina entered the tiny room, just large enough for a toilet and a sink. She left the door open a crack to allow just enough light in to see by, taking her time to remove her coat, rinse herself free of the stench of this terrible day, do her best to clean her hair and wound at the back of her head, and take care of her other needs.

When she emerged feeling more human but still somewhat dazed and absolutely exhausted, she found Laura perched on the edge of the couch, waiting for her.

“I don’t believe a healcast would work on me, dear,” she said gently as she collapsed into the corner of the damp cushions, grimacing a little at the chill that seeped through her wool traveling trousers and long underwear. The moldy scent of the brown tartan fabric that made her want to sneeze instantly brought her back to that toy store, before everything had gone so very wrong. “It’s been far too long since I was injured.”

“You’ve probably noticed my magic works a bit differently from the other Glaives you’ve seen, and really, you need that looked at as soon as possible.” Reaching out toward her head with a hand, she asked, “May I?”

Trina nodded, and the girl placed four fingers at the back of her neck and closed her eyes. Perplexed at this foreign approach to magical medicine, she said, “I’m only somewhat familiar with the King’s magic, but not of your sort. I’ve only just recently begun to learn of how magic works since the Fall. Are you a special rank of mage?”

“It’s complicated,” she answered without opening her eyes. “You have a minor concussion, but I can heal it. It’ll take a complex bit of magic, though. May I?”

“Please, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

Laura didn’t remove her fingers from the back of her neck as she opened her eyes. “All right, but fair warning, there will likely be a flash of pain. My magic . . . tends to hurt, but only for a moment.”

The warning surprised her a little. She’d never been healed by a Glaive personally, but she’d never received the impression from any she’d known that the process was in any way uncomfortable. Still, it would hardly be logical to allow a potentially life-threatening injury to fester in times such as these.

“I think I can stand a moment of discomfort.”

Without another word, Laura closed her eyes and cupped Trina’s head in both her hands, her fingers spreading over Trina’s temples and behind her ears. Curious to witness this . . . whatever this was, Trina kept her eyes open as the girl opened her mouth and began to sing. The lilting melody that emitted from her throat was unexpected in its high, clear tones—soft enough that not a soul beyond this basement would hear even a whisper of it.

Trina wasn’t so distracted by the sound as not to notice the buildup of that silver light she’d seen emanating from the girl’s fingers so many times already that evening, but she had to close her eyes at the knives stabbing through her head where every finger made contact with her skin. She snapped her jaw shut, willing herself not to jerk away from the pain as the blades turned to liquid acid spreading over her skull and burned a path to the back of her head.

As suddenly as it had begun, the agony ceased—as everything grew still and silent again.

Deciding after a moment that she hadn’t, in fact, died, Trina stretched her neck experimentally against Laura’s gentle grip, tilting her head in all directions.

“Thank you,” she said, somewhat surprised at the complete lack of pain or nausea that had been plaguing her since she last woke.

She opened her eyes to meet Laura’s kind gaze—suddenly so much older than her face. A dancer, a blade expert, a mage, and a singer? Insomnia may have expected much of its children at all levels of society, but this girl was beyond prodigious.

 _What are you? Where have you been all this time?!_ she wanted to shout as the wave of anger she’d felt back at the skewer stand washed over her again, but before she had the time to talk herself into overriding her filter and demanding answers, the girl pulled away and answered in a low, strained voice.

“My pleasure.”

Trina didn’t need a moment to tear through her filter of propriety when her eyes caught sight of the glittering flash on Laura’s left hand as it lowered to her lap. Her anger transformed to seething fury as she snatched the girl’s fingers and brought them closer to her face to examine the fourth finger more closely in the low light.

Despite not having seen the ring for three years now, she’d recognize it anywhere after seeing it for so long on her mother’s hand before she’d passed.

Ignoring her manners and the fact that she owed the girl _some_ benefit of the doubt for saving her life, she loosed her fury in a dark snarl.

“Where did you get this?!”

She never expected to see those familiar swirls of mythril again after she’d sent it to her son the day he’d received his dukedom. Astrals, she couldn’t remember a day she had ever been prouder—the first in their family in thousands of years to reach such heights. He’d sent her the loveliest letter in gratitude before disappearing two years later.

She’d feared the worst when the Prince had been pronounced dead on the day of the Fall, for where else would her son have been but by Prince Noctis’s side? But the occasional whisper from Glaives that the Prince was wandering Lucis with a retinue had given her and Ettie hope. And then Prince Noctis _had_ been confirmed alive . . . in Altissia. Every report Trina had managed to wring from her contacts had all said the same thing—that Lady Lunafreya and a member of the Prince’s retinue had died on the altar from unknown causes. The single article she’d been given of the entire incident only covered Prince Noctis’s efforts to rebuild after the destruction—featuring a photo of the Prince, his friend, and his Shield. The only sliver of hope that had remained after that was the slim chance that Trina may have been able to speak to those returning from Niflheim, who may have seen the Prince just before he disappeared and who may have known who had been left alive in his retinue at the time.

Laura stared at her in bewilderment for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as she studied her. “It’s a wedding ring. I got it from my husband.”

“Yes, I realize that; I’m not a simpleton,” Trina retorted. Had this girl’s husband killed her son on the altar and taken the ring? It was possible that both she and her husband were traitors to the Crown just as Phine had likely been. “Where did he get it?”

Laura tilted her head, her eyes narrowing further. “Trina . . . your name is Trina,” she said slowly, her lips spreading into a slow smile that grew wider with each passing second.

“What of it?”

“As in Ustrina. Ustrina Scientia. Bloody hell, I didn’t make the connection!” She leaned forward suddenly, grasping both Trina’s hands in her own. “You’re his mother, aren’t you? We’ve been looking for you.”

“Y—You know my s—son? Please, I beg of you, tell me everything. Leave nothing out.”

“Oh, _stars_ , do I ever know your son!” she laughed joyously, but her expression dropped almost instantly. “Wait. You said Venetus was with the group?”

Trina nodded. “Yes, did you hear any news of them while I was freshening up?”

“Cor’s found eighteen of them. I’ll send Ignis to meet him and check to see if Venetus is among them.”

 _Eighteen_ of them left—meaning they’d lost an additional thirteen since their flight from the mall. What if . . . no. Ettie was among them. He simply _had_ to be.

But her breath squeezed out of her lungs painfully at the sound of her son’s name. “Ignis, my little boy—so you truly are married to my son? He’s alive?”

“Oh yes, he is alive and well and I am so very proud to call that fine man my husband. We actually came here looking for you and a friend’s parents before we handled some other missions closer to the city center. Stopped by your place in Sorwester, but it looked as though it’d been abandoned since the Fall.”

“We moved closer to the city’s center when services started shutting down,” she said dismissively, waving the question away with a hand before continuing with what she really wanted to know. “Tell me about him.”

Laura pulled back and summoned a red container and a set of chopsticks to her hands. “How about I talk while you eat?”

Trina studied the girl, her . . .  daughter-in-law, and the container carefully. Having spent the majority of her life on the outskirts and therefore not around magic, she’d only witnessed the power of the Glaives since the Fall—far more versatile than that of the Crownsguard, from what she’d heard, but she’d never seen one demonstrate the ability to summon anything more than weapons from thin air before.  

Carefully taking the container from Laura’s hands, she lifted the lid, releasing a puff of meaty steam Trina recognized immediately as one of her favorites—Royal City downtown’s xiaolongbao, steamed rice, and vegetables. It was hardly a practical meal to eat while on the run in the middle of an apocalypse, but it was heavy enough to fill her aching stomach yet light enough to allow her to run afterward if she needed to.

Balancing the desire to maintain her manners while inhaling her food and not immediately blurt out the million questions buzzing through her head, she answered, “Tell me about him. What sort of man is he?”

Laura let her eyes drift to her lap as a tender, bashful sort of smile crossed her lips. “He’s the best man—a genius, a strategist, an explorer, a fighter, and an artist at everything he does. He has a wit as sharp as any blade and a heart that loves so fiercely that you can’t help but love him back just as much. He’s beautiful—inside and out—sarcastic and self-assured, but also quietly passionate, considerate, and so very warm.” Dropping her head even further so that Trina lost sight of her expression, she said, “Honestly, I could go on for ages. Don’t get me started.”

Trina couldn’t hear enough about the man her boy had become, but there was a question burning in her throat that she needed to hear the answer to most of all. “He doesn’t . . . hate us, does he?”

“Never,” she breathed immediately, her head shooting up to meet her eyes again. “I’m not sure Ignis is even capable of true hate.”

Trina looked down at the box in her hands, toying idly with the vegetables and rice before finally pinching one of the little soup-filled pouches in her chopsticks. She took a moment to grapple with her conflicting joy and heartache before somewhat awkwardly maneuvering it to her lips. The hot, spicy broth exploded in her mouth, the somewhat exotic flavors blossoming over her palate.

She sighed in relief once she’d swallowed, eager to concentrate more on her meal now that her stomach was gnawing itself in its demand for more. “These are even better than the ones downtown,” she muttered.

“Ignis enjoys making them when he has a puzzle to figure out and wants to keep his hands busy.”

Her little boy had made . . .? “Please understand,” she blurted out, choosing to stare down at the perfectly even folds in the dough instead of directly in Laura’s eyes. “It’s not that we didn’t love him. We knew at his naming that he’d be a special boy, but we couldn’t refuse when the King asked for him. He’d become a duke! We thought he would have a better life in the Citadel with Caeli than being dragged all over Eos between the two of us traveling.” 

Taking another bite of the meal cooked by her own son’s hands in silence, she waited for the information to sink in before she added softly, “We weren’t to know that we had just signed our boy’s fate to the future King of Light, but it wouldn’t have made any difference. We didn’t have a choice, really. What do you do when the King asks for your child?”

She finally summoned the courage to look up. The expression that had crossed Laura’s face had become incongruent with the youth of her features again—kind, old, and almost motherly as she replied gently, “I won’t lie to you and say that his life was always easy, but he’ll be the first to tell you when you see him that he has no regrets. The King sleeps safely in the Crystal as a direct result of a thousand of your son’s actions.”

“And what about now? Is he happy?”

“Wellll . . . I’m his wife, so I would certainly like to think he’s as happy as he can be in these trying times. But I’ll let him tell you for himself when you see him.”

As she worked on finishing her meal, a foreign sort of frenetic nervousness bubbled in her chest at the prospect of seeing him for the first time since he was a toddler. With the darkness overtaking their world and everyone she knew losing loved ones by the day, there was nothing more important than reconnecting and banding together as a family before it was too late. And she’d not only rediscovered her son on this terrible night, the young woman sitting in front of her was her daughter-in-law . . . wife of the Duke of . . ..

“Oh! Forgive me, Your Grace,” she breathed as the Duchess reached out to take the empty container from her hands. “I just realized . . ..”

Her expression tightened into a sharp frown. “The title thing runs in the family, I see. Laura, if you please. Only ever just Laura, and I would ask that you not refer to Ignis by his title when you see him, as well.”

Well, now, that was certainly a queer reaction. Even in a post-apocalyptic world, most girls her age would be pulling out that title any chance they got in order to establish dominance over a lowly dame such as herself. Trina rarely pulled out her title because it was so common in the city, but ‘Duchess’ was one of the rarer titles in the kingdom, second only to the titles of the royal family. Had it been safe to relocate to Tenebrae, she could have been considered a Baroness—still several steps down from the noblewoman sitting in front of her wearing a Glaive uniform, of all things.

“That accent and that royal coloring of yours certainly befits the title of Duchess, but I’m curious to know what your maiden name was, my dear.”

“Nothing you’d recognize, I’m afraid,” she said with a frown, “Laurelín Tildari Haránathat Ni’annen.”

Audacious youths these days—now here was a subtler form of arrogance she could understand. It must have been a trend now to take on additional names in the style of the tri-named royal families of Eos, but it was silly to attempt to do so. There were only four royally named houses in the world, two of whose royalty titles changed with the name of the child’s non-royal parent—the Fleurets and the Aldercapts—and two whose royalty names never changed—the Lucis Caelums and Stupeo Scientias.

She’d intended to inform her son of that information after the treaty signing, when it would be safer for him to stand out a little more, even if his royalty status was no longer applicable. But then the war had happened instead.

“And are you titled in your own right? Are you this Dr. Scientia mentioned in the paper as well?” she asked, somewhat suspiciously now.

Bakers and lawyers didn’t carry the weight of so many names, and neither would a highborn girl raised in the Citadel presume herself royalty. And a doctor, as well? Just how many specializations did this child carry, and how many were real?

“Ugh, I _told_ Sania not to mention my name in that interview, and I told Vyv not to print it.” She leaned back into the couch, letting out a weary sigh. “Oh yes, I’m about as titled as I can get,” she chuckled. “Titled out to the point where I could waltz down the street and start chucking them at people as though I were in a parade. Does it matter?”

“Forgive me. No, it doesn’t, really,” she replied softly, because really, it didn’t matter. Ignis had already chosen his bride. “I’m merely curious to learn more about the young woman my son chose. And I’m certain you’re well aware that your title and origin dictate everything about your life—how you are to treat others, how you are treated.”

Laura closed her eyes and said in a low, dark tone, “Yes, I know.” But she seemed to shake her head as though in response to something Trina hadn’t said before looking back up at her. “Get some sleep while I keep watch.” She scooted to the floor and crossed her legs, gesturing for Trina to rest her head against the mildewed cushion. Once she had somewhat reluctantly settled, the heavy weight of her exhaustion threatening to pull her under immediately, Laura asked, “Would you prefer the light on or off?”

“On, please,” she whispered. “Will you be all right staying up?” she asked, noting her drooping eyelids.

Laura summoned one of the most hideous blankets Trina had ever laid eyes on and draped it over her, the soft, lightweight fibers seeming to warm her the moment it had settled. “It’s just been a trying few days. I’ll be fine . . . and so will Venetus,” she said confidently, and Trina’s eyes darted to Laura’s ears, covered by her hair pulled loosely back with a clip. Had she heard news when she’d shaken her head, or just now?

Relief flared in Trina’s chest as Laura confirmed, “Ignis is sending him and the rest of the group on to Lestallum. You can get a ride to the city tomorrow with Cor to join them.”

She collapsed deeper into the couch, closing her eyes and letting the exhaustion that had been threatening to overtake her since this morning wash over her body. “Thank Ifrit,” she mumbled.

***

Trina didn’t know the man standing in the middle of the dark, abandoned road, but she’d recognize that long silhouette and that sharp jawline anywhere.

“Ignis!” she cried out, not caring in the slightest that this man didn’t know her at all. She flung herself against him, wrapping her arms around his surprisingly muscular frame and squeezing him tightly, swearing to herself that she would never stay away from him again. She felt his body stiffen beneath her arms, but she could feel the soft, awkward pats of his hand on her shoulder. Astrals, was she ever familiar with that reticence and rigid formality. Ettie had been precisely like that with her until he was suddenly head-over-heels and moon-eyed in love. She wondered if it had been the same sort of courtship for Ignis and Laura, with the two of them falling for each other hard, fast, and completely—once she’d managed to crack that exterior of his.

“Mother?” he asked politely in a rich, accented baritone that reminded her so much of Ettie that it hurt. A stronger accent than hers, stronger than even the King’s, the stubborn boy, probably insistent that he adhere to the ancient royal dialect just as Ettie had. At least he hadn’t been influenced by the Prince’s inclination to adopt the more common speech of the people, but she supposed the Prince’s public education and the Shield’s rather varied sources for combat training had had more than a small hand in influencing their speech.

She pulled back, reaching up to cup his jaw in both her hands as she studied him. Those intense emerald eyes and honey colored hair were all hers and Caeli’s, but the sharp angles of his face and those aristocratic features that Ettie had inherited from the Fleuret side of his family had bred true. Astrals, as much as she had wished she could have gone to see him as he grew up, Ettie had been right: _someone_ surely would have guessed his heritage eventually had they made the connection with the man she’d married.

That he’d managed to blend in with Caeli so well that no one ever questioned where he’d come from was a miracle in and of itself, as gifted as he’d always been. But Caeli had been the younger sibling, the one not named and blessed by Ifrit as she had been. Their blessing was the only card her ostracized family had to play these days, but Ifrit’s reputation and the general lack of public knowledge regarding their family meant that Ignis’s origin was safely hidden from any who would seek to use him against the two monarchies to which he was connected.

“My beautiful boy has grown into such a handsome young man,” she said, smiling up at him and stepping away. “And married to such a lovely young woman!” Imagining his emerald eyes on a little boy with jet black hair, she gushed, “Your children will be stunning!”

“Err, yes,” he stammered, his attention darting over a pile of Magitek soldiers lying broken at the base of an apartment building before looking over to the Marshal, who was leaning against a rickety lemon-colored truck with his arms crossed. “We can catch up later, but Laura and I must be going. The Marshal will escort you to our home in Lestallum. I’ve given the key to Fa—. . . Ambassador Étoile. We’ve only just moved in, but please—make yourselves at home.”

“But where will you be?” she asked, wanting to reach for his hand to stop him leaving, but honestly, she was being ridiculous. Still, they’d only just reunited. It sounded as though he and Ettie had had a chance to speak—and that Ettie had already told him some things.

“We’ve business in the city—several errands to run,” he said, stepping back to Laura’s side. “We should return in a few days.”

“Be careful, please.”

“We shall,” Ignis said. “And do take care as well. We’ll join you shortly, but in the meantime, should you require anything at all, tell the vendors in Partellum Market to charge anything you wish to Laura’s account. I’ve requested that Prompto stop by tomorrow to acclimate you to the city, if you’re amenable.”

“Yes, you’ve thought of everything, as always,” the Marshal said, stepping forward and ushering Trina back toward the truck with the sweep of a hand. “Now get going. I’m only allowing this because it’s important, and you claim to be the only one who can handle this. But the sooner you get back, the sooner we can rest knowing the Lord Protector is safe.”

“Advisor. Senior Advisor. Chamberlain. Grand Chamberlain. Sergeant. Future Prime Minister. And now, another bloody title—two, if you count King Regent, since the conditions are a bit nebulous,” Trina heard Laura mutter before she climbed into the passenger seat, and the Marshal shut the door behind her.

“This won’t be the last mission by a long shot, I’m afraid,” Trina heard Ignis’s voice call out to the Marshal through the window. “We have several more planned which are vital to the survival of mankind and of the King.”

“We’ll talk about it when you get back,” the Marshal called back as he opened his door and got in.

Trina turned to watch the two members of her family in the glowing red tail lights of the truck as they walked shoulder-to-shoulder back into the city that had once been her only home. The light hitting their skin didn’t completely fade until the Marshal’s tires had hit the bridge that would take them to the mainland, leaving them alone in the darkness with the daemons.

“I have to say,” the Marshal began as she reluctantly turned to the front and looked ahead to the open road, “I thought Lord Venetus Étoile had left Insomnia when Queen Sylva died. When the Ambassador showed up at the gates asking me to wait for his wife, I wasn’t expecting Lady Ustrina Scientia to appear this morning. Does Ignis know the full story?”

“I don’t know how much Ettie has just told him.”

Though Ettie had never served as Tenebraean ambassador to Lucis in any public official capacity, some of King Regis’s most trusted servants were in the know. His workload had lightened considerably with increased tension between Lucis and the Empire with the death of Queen Sylva, but he’d still served as an occasional point of contact between Princess Lunafreya and King Regis. Trina’s research often took them out of the city, which provided him the perfect cover to meet with any operatives from Tenebrae or, on the rare occasion Trina’s work took them overseas, with Lady Lunafreya herself. But it was dangerous work, serving as an ambassador between two countries that shouldn’t have been speaking.

Trina considered herself fortunate that a man of comparatively high social standing should be willing to overlook the Scientia family history with Ifrit, eschew his own heritage, and take her name to live in anonymity on the outskirts of the city so that she could more easily coordinate with the Hunters and conduct her research. While the legitimacy of Ettie’s presence in Lucis was made more convincing by their marriage, he certainly hadn’t _had_ to marry her to do so.

Over twenty years of research, of keeping quiet while the two of them kept their marriage a secret, had just been abandoned in the span of two days. But there was no longer a need for keeping Ignis safe from the Empire. There was no one left to make the connection that Princess Lunafreya’s second cousin once removed was the Senior Advisor to the King of Lucis. There was no one in the Empire left to take advantage of that connection and seek to harm him.

Cor let out a long sigh. “I hadn’t expected this. The last thing Lucis needs right now is for Ignis’s loyalties to be divided.”

“If he’s anything like Ettie, that won’t be a problem.”

“Lord Étoile will be expected to step up in Lestallum, now that we know he’s here. The Tenebraeans have been at a loss as to who to elect as their delegate to the Council with all the ruling families taken out. Rumor has it that the majority prefer to remain true to the monarchy. A few have chosen to stay behind in Tenebrae and take their chances with their wind power, but the ones that have landed here in Lucis will need a leader. It’s already all over the comms that the Council wants to see him.”

“He’s been ‘stepping up’ here with the provisional government ever since the Empire retreated, just not in his official capacity. Perhaps you didn’t notice because you were off elsewhere, doing whatever it is you’ve been doing.”

“I’ve been following the King’s orders,” he said roughly, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. After several seconds spent staring off into the slowly brightening sky, he said, “He can’t do as thorough a job under House Scientia. He needs to accept that Ignis is grown and can take care of himself now. Tenebrae needs House Étoile.”

“You’re right,” she sighed.

“We’re in talks to solidify matters with the Council regarding the Lucian and Eosian governments. Ignis has the backing of the Glaive and Guard, but only at my orders. Though we’re still working to establish a formal partnership with the Hunters, he also has the Auburnbries’ support. A political ally may convince the people to lend their lives to a twenty-three-year-old kid who happens to be a genius.”

“So that’s what you meant by calling him ‘Lord Protector,’” she noted mildly. “Putting a servant to the Crown that’s accused of ignoring the world in charge of the people with the greatest reasons to despise him.”

“We all have our roles to play,” the Marshal grunted. “You would all still need to hide your blood relation to keep the people from crying nepotism. It’s possible that no one will notice if you take Lord Étoile’s name. Most of those in court who would remember you were lost in the Fall. But someone has to keep Lucis running until the King returns, and technically, the job is Ignis’s by right.”

“So, the King will be returning, then? You haven’t given up?” she asked, remembering some vague remark last night from Laura about the King asleep in the Crystal.

“Don’t believe everything you read. The King will return, but we believe it will be some time before he does. Duke Scientia and Baron Étoile will need to take their proper places among the people as leaders in the meantime.”

“You know that won’t be his title for long.”

“I know.”

***

“You’re free to come and go as you please, but we don’t recommend leaving the city,” the Marshal was explaining as he led her up the long, stone staircase of the main thoroughfare of the city. “That’s going to change in these next few months, now that the Pegglar Outlook District is complete. Cid has plans for gating off the road from the gas station to the tunnel—if we can pull him away from that weapons upgrading contraption long enough, that is.”

Trina tried her best to pay attention to Cor’s words as they approached the square, but the streets were a flurry of activity. It appeared Nomadist Apothecary had just received a shipment of new poisons and was hurriedly unloading it from a pallet into the open door of the shop. A group of men was standing in a circle outside Hand of Hendrix arguing heatedly about the people in the other outposts left stranded by the sudden power outage.

“They’re saying it was the King of Daemons,” a man said tremulously. “Used his mind powers to attack the whole system at once. We’re lucky the light from the old meteor site kept us safe!”

“You’re full of it,” another man scoffed. “Who cares about old husband’s tales when we gotta rescue all those people? We can’t leave ‘em to the daemons, and I bet the government won’t give us a hunting license to do it.”

“To save people? You know they will.”

Even more activity greeted them as the Marshal turned to the right and led her through the square, past the food stalls and Surgate’s Beanmine. Though the restaurants themselves were closed during this time of rationing, what she knew to be the largest courtyard in the city was packed with men and children rushing in all directions, carrying stacks of wood, metal drums and cannisters, bags of garbage, and other refuse.

“They’re all men and children,” she noted. Though she’d been to Lestallum twice on her travels and knew about the city’s rather outdated and backward attitudes toward traditional gender roles, she found it rather unsettling to be the _only_ woman currently walking on the streets this evening.

“Most of the women are with EXINERIS right now, working overtime to make sure the city’s stable before restoring power to the surrounding area. There’s a city-wide mandate to clean up the streets and refurbish all housing before the long night sets in.”

As he led them past a group of men installing some sort of collection device on a pipe that was venting steam into the air, she asked, “Refurbish all housing?”

He nodded at a young boy leaning over on a ladder in the back corner of the square, carefully applying white paint to the trim of a building at the entrance to the narrow residential street they were headed toward. A man stood next to him, furiously scraping at the faded and chipped paint on the wall next to him.  

“We’ve been working to restore abandoned, boarded-up buildings and splitting currently occupied residences to fit more refugees as they arrive.”

Trina eyed the houses all huddled together on each block, sharing walls and heat as they rose high above the street, making her feel enclosed in a way she had never felt on the wide thoroughfares of Insomnia. The amalgam of the city’s art deco style, Altissian baroque, even a smattering of Tenebraean neoclassical and art nouveau with its abundance of columns, spoke to better days gone by—when the world was a smaller place, sharing art and influence and knowledge worldwide. She was beginning to see the charm of the architectural features of the place—the gaudy colors combined with the geometric shapes and intricately carved columns. Even the intensely yellow and blue pipes from EXINERIS that covered every exterior leant their own sort of unique charm.

“I can’t imagine the longstanding residents taking that lightly,” she said mildly.

“No.”

The street he had led her down appeared to be undergoing major renovation, as many of the buildings were still plastered with ads for Mama Edea’s Organic Butter, Gracchus Motors, and Garula steak—Juicy and Delicious, Big enough for any appetite! Trina had just caught sight of a sign across from ads for Vixen Motors and Cotton Alley’s Bean There, Jelly That! that declared them to be on the corner of Big North when Cor stopped suddenly and looked up at tall, freshly-painted Altissian baroque-style house.

“We’re here.”

She examined the sunny pastel [corner unit](https://i.imgur.com/1bsceV5.png), with its high, white columns; balconets; and blue-framed windows. She couldn’t imagine herself or Ettie living in such a colorful house, and she wondered if Ignis and Laura had chosen the shade based on the history of the area or if it was their preference.

“If you need to get to the roof, the ladder’s just around the corner there,” the Marshal said, pointing down the street that went up the side of the house. At her furrowed brow, he answered, “Every house has a small aquaponics farm for fish and vegetables on its roof, as well as some traditional crops. Gotta get that vitamin D somehow. You don’t need to worry about taking care of anything. Prompto will be by in the morning to check on it.”

“All right,” she sighed impatiently. Momentarily distracted by the bustle of the city, that jaw-tightening sense of anticipation had attenuated somewhat, but now that she was standing outside the heavy, dark wood of the door separating her from Ettie, even her exhaustion wasn’t holding her back from the need to see him safe.

Without another word, the Marshal reached out to rap his knuckles in the center of the outline of a golden fish set into the wood and waited.

“Ettie,” she whispered when the door swung open. She didn’t care that he’d clearly showered and changed into his black slacks and a crisp, blue button-down. Without paying heed to how filthy she likely was, she threw herself into his arms, burying her face into his chest.

“Trina,” he breathed, wrapping his arms more tightly around her and leaning in close to her ear. “It’s all right. We’re both all right.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but there are some things I need to tell you before I get back to work,” Cor said, and she reluctantly stepped to the side enough to meet his eyes, but she didn’t move from underneath Ettie’s arm as they stood on the stoop together.

The Marshal looked between them as he said, “Prompto should be stopping by around ten in the morning tomorrow, but Gladio teaches a public self-defense class at eight every morning in the training facility by the Council building on the main road. I recommend at least one of you stay for the urban farming class just after. You’ll need it for when you get your own place.

“In the meantime, the Council already knows you’re here, Ambassador, and would like to see you tomorrow afternoon.” Turning to Trina, he said, “There’s plenty of work to do once you’ve gotten settled. Market vendors are looking for volunteers to can or pickle excess produce, and we’re in desperate need of more teachers. Prompto will fill you in, but start thinking about what sort of role you want to play.”

While the information was useful, indeed, she couldn’t find it in herself to care much about the shape her future would take at the moment. Eager to be alone with Ettie, she nodded and said, “Thank you, Marshal. We appreciate all you’ve done.”

“Have a good evening,” he said with a nod before turning and striding back down the street in the direction they’d come from.

“I imagine you’d like to get cleaned up,” Ettie said softly once they’d lost sight of the Marshal, brushing the back of his knuckles across her cheek.

Trina shook her head. “I want to see my son’s house first. I want to _know_ him, Ettie. So much of his life . . . we’ll never get that back.”

“Come inside.”

Ignis and Laura’s house was far smaller on the inside than she was expecting—a long, narrow rectangle whose [ground floor](https://i.imgur.com/oZYEAoI.png) was just large enough to hold a small living room and kitchen, clearly not meant to house more than two people. What the space lacked in size, however, was made up for in the light colors of the windowless room and the eclectic art deco and baroque styles that matched the outside of the house. She admired the bright yellow and blue tiles patterning the floors and stairs; the heavy, baroque-style green-upholstered couch; and the gleaming copper appliances set between the Tenebraean oak cabinets. Someone had obviously put a lot of care into making the small space seem like home.

But the most dramatic and personal touches were the vases of flowers and rows of books on every available counter space, the figurines of strange animals Trina had never seen decorating the kitchen, and, of course, the dozens of paintings and photos lining the white-and-gold wood paneled walls.

“It’s like a conservatory mixed with an art gallery,” Trina said in awe, studying a group of photos framed and hung off to the side of the sofa. She recognized every figure in the photo from press clippings and her recent meeting with Laura—the four boys and one girl in different combinations and poses all around Eos: goofing off in front of a group of chocobos outside Wiz’s Post, standing in front of the Rock of Ravatogh, hugging in the middle of a busy Altissian street. She recognized Laura and who she assumed to be Ignis dressed in elaborate costumes and masks at an Altissian estate somewhere.

They looked like royalty standing among royalty.

Ettie wasn’t studying the photos, however, choosing instead to stare longingly at a painting of the Tenebraean seaside hung in an ornate gilded frame centered over the sofa.

“Look at it in the center of the room—a place of pride. It’s almost as though he knew,” Ettie said in a low voice.

Trina winced, looking down at the table next to the couch and idly running her fingers over the corner of a photobook. He’d obviously done some exploring of his own while waiting for her to get back, as the book was open to a page of Laura lying half asleep draped across Ignis’s chest in the back seat of a car as he stared down at her in wonder.

“He did know. I’ve been speaking to him for three years now.”

She could tell by the way he didn’t respond immediately that he was attempting to control his anger at her confession, and she looked up to see his jaw twitching as he continued to glare up at the painting with a cold expression.

“All these years,” he finally managed. “I thought we agreed that it was in his best interests. What did you tell him?”

“He never had much time to write, it seemed—only a few letters. I thought . . . if it was just me, it would be safe. I told him your first name only and that you were from Tenebrae, nothing more.”

“That certainly would be enough to capture anyone’s interest should he have told the wrong person. And what if someone knew Trina Scientia and made the connection that her husband Ettie Scientia was really Venetus Étoile? That was foolish of you.”

“I wanted him to know _something_ of himself. To be able to discover his own heritage should something happen to us.”

“You’re fortunate it worked out for the best,” he sighed wearily. Placing a gentle hand to her arm, he turned her toward the stairs and ushered her forward. “Come. Let us get you cleaned up so we can rest.”

“You waited up for me?” she asked, a small smile curling at her lip as she forced her heavy feet upstairs.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed softly, an edge of irritation in his tone. “I had to stay awake in case someone brought news of you.”

Her smile grew a fraction wider. “You stayed up for me.”

The décor was also bright and airy upstairs as she stepped into the loft-like [bedroom](https://i.imgur.com/fhZhnL4.png)—done in white, soft shades of gold, navy blue, and dark wood. The windows along the far wall, though dressed in heavy gold and navy draperies, added more light from the street lamps outside. The art on the walls up here was more eclectic—an almost childlike drawing of the five friends next to a collection of the most detailed photographs of space she had ever seen, a garishly vivid painting of an exotic bird she couldn’t identify, and what she was certain were framed Solheimian mathematics proofs over a heavy wooden desk in the corner.

“He and his wife certainly are interesting people,” Ettie remarked as he stared curiously at the image of a swirling galaxy. “I understand you met her?”

“Dr. Laurelín Scientia—a remarkable and talented young woman. She saved my life.”

“Good,” he said with a sharp nod. “He’ll need a strong woman by his side for his trials to come, as I have.”

“Are we certain the Prince is dead? Perhaps there is hope he will come and claim his title.”

Ettie stood stiff and silent for a moment before he finally answered, “Ignis took care of the matter himself, along with the King’s retinue.”

So, there it was, then. In the span of a single night, Trina had reunited with her entire family for the first time in nearly twenty years and was now situated between the future King of Tenebrae and the King Regent of Lucis as they led the people through this dark apocalypse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Sims 4, for allowing me to make house models.


	83. Chapter 83

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW this chapter.

_This place is just so . . . strange,_ Laura said as they walked in wary silence down the cluttered sidewalk. _Even knowing Eos was originally from Earth . . . it’s as though their culture was pasted sloppily onto yours._

There was little point in losing himself in thoughts of how they should have been here to protect their homes all those months ago, as the four of them would have died along with the rest in the face of the Empire’s might. So he attempted to view the broken asphalt and crumbling buildings of this empty, eerie wasteland with the detached eye of an anthropologist instead.

He wasn’t entirely successful, but he did manage to ask, _Oh, how so?_

She pointed to the window of a stationery store, where a faded sticker announced that they proudly accepted American Express cards.

 _What of it?_ he asked.

_What does that word mean to you?_

Ignis shrugged. _The person who founded the company was named ‘American.’_

 _But . . ._ she blinked in disbelief before casting her eyes around the ad-plastered, deserted intersection. Triumph infused her tone as she flung a hand up to a Japan Airlines ad hanging from the side of an office building. _Okay, that. You may have Magitek engines, but no way does a city with a Wall over it at war with everyone have an airline business. Even ignoring the fact that Japan isn’t a country in this world, do you even know what an airline is?_

 _Typically, a designer’s line of shoes created for jumping higher, or some such nonsense._ As the flood of information regarding America and the concept of an airline washed over him, his steps faltered on the sidewalk for a moment before resuming. _Oh . . . how . . . odd._

This was the fourth time in the last few days she’d pointed out the incongruencies and inconsistencies of his everyday life, which he hadn’t truly paid any mind to before he’d left Insomnia, but why should he have? How was he to have known that so many of these logos and company names referenced countries, products, and celebrities that didn’t exist? How was he to have known that Lucian formal script was, in actuality, Japanese? That he was speaking, _thinking_ , in English at this very moment? What had been the point of Eos leading them in this direction? Simply to emulate her beloved Earth?

In the span of ten months since meeting her, Laura had completely reoriented his world—had showed him the way an immortal, a time and space traveler, viewed the ads and trinkets and languages and every other seemingly inconsequential aspect of everyday living. It compelled him to take a second look at every familiar facet of life in Lucis, and it both troubled and thrilled him to find that he no longer quite belonged here among his fellow man.

And then he remembered that most of his fellow man had either been daemonized or vacated this desolate place.

The sensation of gentle fingers running down his jacket sleeve pulled him from his melancholia, and he looked down at Laura to give her a gentle, reassuring smile. _I’m all right. I must say I have much greater empathy for what it must feel like each time you take me back to Lliaméra. After days of contending with seeing my homeland in such a state, I fear I’m beginning to allow my mind to wander too far._

 _It’s a bit different for me. I’ve had thousands of years and an identity crisis or two since then._ They continued to walk in silence in the weak afternoon sun, averting their eyes from piles of clothing shed like skins and turning their thoughts away from the frigid air whistling through the abandoned streets.

 _I do so wish we could have something of news to deliver on Prompto’s mother and father_ , Laura said softly as he led her to the left, past the train station to where the city began splitting off into levels of bridges, shops, and streets.

Ignis looked over at her from the side of his eye. They’d spent the last week wandering the city—searching the almost idyllic, tree-lined Sorwester for the quaint, suburban home he would have been raised in had he lived with his parents. A note left on the table expressed the hope that Ignis might find them in the city center, but they’d been called off their search to rescue the last group of refugees that had been delayed by an attack. Meeting his parents had been . . . not what he’d been expecting all these years. Given all he and Laura had been through as they traveled to the Argentums’ residence, he’d had plenty of reasons not to have given the issues awaiting him at home any thought.

_Given what we’ve learned of Prompto’s past, I’m not certain he even wants to find them now._

_There’s always the chance that it wasn’t what he’s thinking. Parents often lie to their children to protect them._

As Ignis passed another ad for Meat & Meet, where he would sometimes . . . meet with Noct after a long day at the Citadel, he idly wondered if the upscale burger joint itself was still standing. But at her words, he allowed an edge of pensiveness to leak into his tone as he answered softly, “Yes, they do, apparently.”

“Parents aren’t the only ones who lie,” she said significantly, shooting him an accusing glare. “The very first day we left this place and I asked about what you all do, you were the chef, Your Grace.”

“If you’ll recall correctly, which I know for a fact you do, it was Prompto who cut in with that information,” he replied, perhaps somewhat acerbically. “And besides, I seem to recall a woman sitting in the back seat and presenting herself as a rather dim Insomnian noblewoman on that very same day.”

“Well, you’ve got me there, I must admit.” She wove her fingers through his as they walked, leaning into his arm. “You’re so much more than a chef—than even a duke—to me, to Noct, to everyone. I hope you see that now.”

As a child, he’d always done what was expected of him to the best of his ability, and despite it being one of his greatest fears in life, he’d often been overlooked as Prince Noctis’s . . . butler? chef? secretary? playmate? He knew well enough that his reputation had labeled him a perfectionist—obsessive about the Prince’s every need. But despite this reputation for getting the job done, he’d still always been seen as thoroughly ordinary, nothing noteworthy. It therefore had come as a great surprise that his parents had been missing all these years not due to neglect or disinterest, but rather a desire to keep his extraordinary heritage from being used by the Empire against Lucis or Tenebrae.

He never would have thought to even attempt to safeguard against such a security threat.

 _I suppose Prompto will have plenty to keep him busy when he moves out to Hammerhead soon,_ he said, diverting the subject away from himself. _With or without power, it’s not an area we can afford to lose, with the facilities for repairs and the oil operations nearby._

She narrowed her eyes up at him, concern pushing its way across their bond, but she played along. _And Cid and Cindy would kill us if we lost it._

_That as well._

Stepping lightly over the bottles of CoolCool soda spilling out from a half-crushed vending machine, he turned again, taking them down the set of stairs that would lead them to the lower levels of the city, which coincidentally passed by where he’d once lived. This was hardly the most efficient way to the Royal Library, the next of their missions they had to accomplish, but there was a rather personal errand he needed to attend to while they were here, if possible.

Entering this more familiar neighborhood found him overcome with memories and mourning as he traced his usual steps home. He’d begun to grow numb to the pain of seeing all the little details of his city fatally wounded—the familiar and secret places lying broken and ruined like a personal injury on his heart. But though he’d never considered himself particularly attached to his apartment before their journey, it felt something like desecration to see his neighborhood slowly growing wild and derelict.

 _Speaking of parents and their . . . mistruths, do you plan on telling them about us?_ she asked, pulling him from his morbid thoughts.

He hesitated, twisting his lips a little in thought. _I haven’t decided yet. I barely know them, yet they are in the unique position to make comments about my private life, including my procreation habits. I’m unaccustomed to what few life choices I have being up for debate or discussion._

 _Yes, that’s going to be an issue,_ she said, and he noticed that she made a concentrated effort not to meet his eyes as she spoke. _That sort of thing doesn’t change with humans across the universes, and especially with nobility._

 _It was my decision to make, and one I’ll never regret making,_ he said firmly as he squeezed her fingers. _But I’m thinking, for now, we won’t. I can’t imagine telling them their daughter-in-law would be considered divinity on our world, and that we’ve already been attacked by one of the Six of legend just for being together. Even if they don’t understand the specifics of our relationship, surely they can comprehend that raising a child in this world . . .._

He let his voice trail off but still allowed her to see his thoughts as he ran a hand along the metal rail and looked down to inspect another level of street below.

He, Noct, and Gladio had been raised in a world that expected the world of them, a practice he’d once thought standard until he’d left the safety of the city. Despite what Ignis had seen of the adored younger generation of the outlands and other countries, he still believed a rigorous education and structured upbringing instilled a sense of self-discipline and character, though he considered his own upbringing somewhat superfluous in that regard. Yet though children beyond the Wall were generally allowed to live as freely as their lifestyles permitted them, the families they’d encountered lived in far harsher conditions, facing poverty, starvation, and frequent daemon attacks. With the coming darkness, surely not even his parents would judge him for not wanting to bring another being into this world, even if such a thing were possible.

 _Yes,_ she sighed in agreement, _it breaks my heart to think of sweet little Talcott learning to kill as he is._

_We want him to survive as much as anyone, and that means developing certain skills, just as we did. Between his training with Monica, Dustin, and the four of us, we will ensure him a successful life._

_I’d like to point out the hypocrisy of that statement. Why is it too dangerous for Iris to fight? She wants to be a Hunter. Please don’t tell me it’s some silly reason—like because she’s a girl._

Ignis’s brows twitched down. _Perhaps there’s a slight sexism bias that our society was only just beginning to eradicate,_ he admitted. _I imagine Cor won’t hold out for long, but in the meantime, she’s likely receiving training from Gladio._

_Good. Though I despise the loss of her innocence just as much as Talcott’s, you have a point, and I should see to her training when I can, as well._

They were close now; he used to see those [electric screens](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/finalfantasy/images/7/74/Insomnia_Artwork_5.png/revision/latest?cb=20160831220051) every night on his way home from work blaring ads for everything from Libratablets to Callux Vellum. He’d never realized how beautiful and unique this city was, with its gothic architectural style, the bridges spanning high rises above their heads, and the multiple levels of streets and shops all the way down to the ground. Of course, it was far easier to appreciate it after having been away for so long, after having lost nearly everything, after _Lucis_ had lost everything.

The lack of noise—jostling crowds, people speaking loud enough to be heard over hundreds of other voices, the piercing car horns—added a degree of separation that made him feel as though he were standing in a surreal and eerie nightmare. Even the minor detail of the missing Wall’s bluish haze over the sky was far more disorienting than he’d expected.

Laura had allowed their connection to go still and silent for a several minutes as he lost himself in memories, but when he felt her mind stirring against his again, he knew the question was coming before the thought popped into his head. _Have you spoken to Gladio?_

_You know I haven’t. I’m not the one enforcing this petty feud._

_He’ll have to forgive us eventually. You’ll be working together when he takes his role as head of the Crownsguard. And if that formal union goes through with the Kingsglaive and Hunters, it will essentially put you in charge of the political sphere with him in charge of the military._

_But until such time that he removes his sword hilt from his backside,_ he growled, gritting his teeth, _the Marshal will be the one threatening martial law to ensure the people’s cooperation on my behalf._

She shut down immediately, her mind going silent, and he sighed as he rubbed his thumb across hers. This was a longstanding sore point with him now, and no matter what she said to comfort him, no matter how reasonable it was for the people to despise this child coming in and taking over every aspect of their lives after being abandoned by the Crown for so long, it would never sit well with him that he’d needed the Marshal in order to take his position.

 _Apologies_.

She leaned in to press a quick kiss to his shoulder in response. _No need to apologize. I know it’s frustrating. Gladio will come around eventually, you have Cor’s unwavering support, and at least you have Vyv’s more unbiased support. I appreciate that he isn’t willing to become your propaganda machine._

 _I agree, even though I would prefer he not sow even the smallest seeds of fear among the already panicking populace._ Thinking of how much there was to accomplish the moment they returned to Lestallum, he swore he could feel his blood pressure rising, warming his head and neck against the chill of the winter air. It was a painfully familiar sensation—walking home every evening wondering just how on Eos he was supposed to pull off whatever recent assignment he’d just received in time before being given another, all while ensuring a rather apathetic young man made it through life as unscathed and successfully as possible.

 _How do you feel about grand theft auto?_ she asked suddenly.

He blinked down at her, wondering what had instigated her line of inquiry. _I wouldn’t be opposed to it if it were necessary, but as it isn’t, I’d say the point is moot._

_I was thinking we could take a car out of the city once we’ve done the Citadel—as long as we left while it was still daylight._

Strange that she should bring this up now; they were just passing the boarded-up storefront of his favorite noodle and book shop, steps away from the garage where he kept his car.

_Impossible, else the evacuees would have driven and not walked out of the city._

_I wasn’t talking about the roads being blocked; I was talking about the sound attracting daemons,_ she scoffed, looking up at him with a sassy smirk. _You and I have traversed quite a lot of this place._ _Think I can find a route that would only minorly scrape up any vehicle we take. It just can’t be too loud._

Ignis let a giddy smile cross his lips as he abruptly changed directions, tugging on her hand to pull her across the street. He looked both ways before he stepped into the road, still following that ingrained instinct to duck between the nearly solid line of honking cars or the people that would wash over him in never-ending waves whenever he attempted a maneuver like this. But of course there was no one to impede their progress as he led her across and down the street to a nondescript metal door.

 _What’s going on in that head of yours? We don’t need a car right now,_ she said, staring up at the parking garage looming several stories over them. That curious, wondrous light illuminated her expression as he sent her his anticipation and pleasure at being the one to surprise her for once.

 _I have something to show you,_ he said with a boyish grin. _Perhaps theft won’t be necessary after all._

There were few luxuries he was afforded because of his position; his apartment alone was proof that he’d lived comfortably, but hardly pampered. The area in which he lived in the southwest corner of the city center was settled on the border of a wealthy district and what Noct liked to call ‘The Grunge District.’ It had been cheap enough that he could buy his apartment outright with his own money and rent it out when he moved back into the Citadel, yet safe enough that he wouldn’t be drawn into knife fights on his way home every evening. And, to his relief, it appeared that its distance from the Citadel and lack of affluent residents had spared this neighborhood the interest of the Empire during the Fall and occupation.

There was only one luxury he’d used his position as the Prince’s chamberlain to get for himself—a decent parking space, as he’d cited to the garage’s owner that he needed to rush to the Prince’s side immediately if necessary. He therefore didn’t have to pull her along the rows of cars parked on the ground floor for very long before he stopped in front of his sleek, black Insignia, dropped her hand, and ran the pads of his gloved fingertips over the dusty hood.

“This is yours?” she whispered, her tone just as hushed and awed as his was any time she took him someplace that swept him away. Delight frothed between them as his smile widened, and he nodded. _She’s beautiful._

_She isn’t appropriate to keep in times such as these, unfortunately. Hardly fuel efficient, either—probably fifteen miles to the gallon in the outlands, at best. But she’s far faster than the Regalia, far more chocopower._

Tracing her finger along the silver scrollwork running up the window guards, she whispered, “If you don’t mind her getting a bit dinged, we could keep her safe with the Regalia . . . maybe have Cindy fix her up after, too.”

 _I’d like that_.

He was just cupping a hand to peer through the dark tint into the interior when he heard Laura take a long, slow breath through her nose.

 _What is it?_ he asked, straightening and scanning the area for danger. They’d been fortunate not to have come across a daemon yet today, but as he looked through the slats letting points of light into the dim garage, he could see that it was growing far darker than it should for even recent reduced daylight hours.

 _Do you smell that?_ she asked with a frown.

He took in a deep breath, but sensitive though his nose was, he could only detect the reek of decay, standing water, and rot that he’d smelled since first entering the city. He was capable of putting facts together, however, and the darkening sky, the scent she detected, and the rash of storms they’d had recently meant that another was likely on the way.

Which meant the daemons would be on their way, too.

“My apartment is two blocks away,” he said softly, already turning to jog back to the door through which they’d come. “I suppose we should consider ourselves fortunate to have rain and not snow.”

He’d been hoping they would have the opportunity to do this, selfish though it was to run a personal errand when they had far more important things to do. As he led her up the several flights of pitch-black stairs and into the hall that led to his door, the first stirrings of thunder rumbled over the city. They’d likely need to take shelter far longer than anticipated, allowing him the time to perhaps gather more than just the single item he wanted more than anything from this place.

As he ushered Laura inside and turned to lock the door behind him, he stretched out his senses as far as they would go for any hint of scourge on the air.

“We should be safe. The entire neighborhood seems rather quiet in terms of both damage and daemons,” Laura said. She strode to the small window in the kitchenette that was letting in the dim, grey light. “How many windows do you have?”

“Three. That one, and two in the bedroom.”

“Morna,” she said, pressing her hand against the window. The glass lit up briefly, but immediately returned to its ordinary state. “Still allows light in, but not out,” she explained.

Ignis took a moment to glance around the humble [space](https://i.imgur.com/ByJy5do.png) that had once been his home as she headed into the bedroom to cast the same spell on the two windows there. The five years he had spent here felt distant and detached somehow, as though they had happened to someone else, after the ten months of devastation and exhilarating adventures he had experienced. This small, mundane life no longer belonged to him, and he still found he didn’t hold any sort of emotional attachment to anything in this place, save for the single object in the bedroom. Still, the long hours he’d spent here were a very sharp reminder of everything he’d once been and, if he were honest with himself, represented the fear of what he was about to become.

There was a frown pulling at Laura’s mouth when she returned to his side. “Ignis?” she asked, running a hand down his forearm.

“Is it safe to turn a light on?” he asked over the now constant soundtrack of thunder rumbling above their heads.

She nodded and summoned one of her orbs, illuminating the small space with blue-white light, and as she set it on the table behind her, he studied the rather disjointed image of her shining black hair and divine form standing in the middle of his thoroughly ordinary kitchen.

“Are you all right being here?” she asked, turning back and stepping up to search his face.

“Yes. Though compared to the home you’ve made for us in Lestallum, I’m afraid it’s rather . . . austere.”

He watched her expression fall as she turned in a circle, her attention pausing on the bookshelf sagging with the weight of the books he’d been gifted with over the years, the reports he’d left for later perusal stacked on the little breakfast table, and, standing out most of all, the single piece of art he had on his wall—a painting of the Galdin shore that his neighbor had given him before moving away.

“You do . . . like our house, right? You weren’t lying to me, were you?”

“Of course not!” he said immediately, his lips tugging down into a sharp frown. “I helped you choose most of our décor, did I not?” But he could see plainly in the contrast of the two places why she would believe such a thing. His furniture was plain, inexpensive—the apartment itself thoroughly unadorned. One would believe he had no money at all in this world until they looked closely at the coffee maker or in the kitchen cabinets—but even most of his dishware had been gifts.

“I bought this place when Noct moved out to attend public school,” he explained, a wry smile twisting his features a little in remembrance. “No one expected Noct to make it for long on his own, but when he did, with my assistance, I decided it was best to stay here. I had furnished it with impermanence in mind, as I would be returning to the Citadel in a few short years. I was expecting to make the move while Noct was on his honeymoon.”

It really didn’t need to be said that he never spent much time here, regardless. In fact, it was the first time he’d ever had anyone besides himself in this place.

“My heart wasn’t here,” he reassured her, “not like our house . . . houses, I should say.”

“Well, I suppose we can take this opportunity to pack up anything you want to take with you,” she said hesitantly.

More out of habit than anything, he bent to take his shoes off and placed them neatly by the door as she followed his lead, draping her socks neatly over the tops of her boots. He smiled a little to himself at the sight. Though they hadn’t had much time to experience domestic bliss in their new home together with all the emergencies that needed to be handled since they’d returned from Gralea, he’d already discovered that her living habits meshed well with his own.

“The books, my clothes, and perhaps some of the cookware, as our kitchen is still a bit bare. I do hope my parents will manage all right without us.”

“They should be fine. I saw a box of Ebony-flavored Monster Flakes in the kitchen when I left,” she said with a grin.

“Prompto left that for us as a thank-you the last time he slept on the couch. Frankly, I’ve been apprehensive to try coffee-flavored cornflakes.” When she immediately moved to the bookshelf to begin dismissing his books, he added, “Are you certain you’ll be all right to add this much magic to the past several days’ worth merely for my sake? I’ve noted you’ve seemed somewhat wilted since evacuating everyone from Caem—even with your emerald.”

“I’ve been limiting the use of the emerald in case we need it later. It wasn’t loaded enough to be used for more than a couple of emergencies, as my spells use far more energy than yours. But that oak needed to be protected and converted to survive the darkness, or you would have lost the protection of the area when we got the grid back up. Kimya is helping with some potions for longer-term solutions, but she needs to send some Glaives out to Malmalam Thicket for more ingredients.”

“Yes, she mentioned that. She also needs ingredients to supplement the protections at the havens. The thicket is yet another area we can’t afford to lose, with its abundance of natural medicinal ingredients.” He sighed as he took the four steps necessary to get to the kitchen and began removing the enameled cast iron bakeware he’d never used because, until he’d left Insomnia, he’d never cooked for anyone besides Noct and himself.

“Not if you plan to go ahead with your ‘quarantine procedures.’”

“You don’t approve?” he asked cautiously, as she’d been hesitant to offer a direct opinion on the issue thus far.

“Honestly, I see very little choice in the matter until I can get to studying the thing, but we’re getting dangerously close to a rule of mine about getting caught up in the political machinations of a planet.”

He had to speak up as the rain finally began to fall, splatting in fat, wet drops against the kitchen window. “I’ll send some of the amnesiac Glaives out there when we return. Though I don’t imagine they pose a threat to the people, I must admit I feel more comfortable having them defend places like Malmalam and Angelgard. I have several out collecting meteorshards, as well.”

“And that’s another mystery that still needs solving. Do you think they’re lying? They don’t seem to be, to me.”

“And it’s your word that I trust. Had these been different times, they would _all_ be on trial for treason and war crimes right now, including Loqi and Aranea,” he said harshly.

“I thought you liked Aranea.”

“I do, but one must take responsibility for one’s actions, and many civilians have died as a result of operations which they and the Glaive have been a part of.”

“For the record, I think you did the right thing, granting everyone a pardon. We need all the skilled leaders we can get right now.”

“Which was my thinking on the matter. And I suppose that the Old Kings have re-granted the Glaive their power after Lady Lunafreya set the Power of Kings free in Altissia speaks to some degree of forgiveness.”

She came to stand next to him, gently placing her hands on everything he’d laid out on the counter and in the sink and dismissing it into her Pocket with breathy sighs of wind. Seeing her here in this place—a flash of color and fantasy among the dullness that had been his everyday life—it was suddenly difficult convincing himself that the last year hadn’t been a wild dream. He’d thought he’d had the general measure of his life the last time he’d left this apartment, but since then, he’d killed; _been_ killed; discovered magic he’d never dreamed of, let alone dreamed of wielding; become a true master of the blade; experienced joy and love.

And lost Noct.

But no, there was no sense lamenting for what he couldn’t change. He could only hope to change their future now.

After silently taking off his gloves and dismissing them, he brought his palm up to the back of Laura’s neck, rubbing his thumb and forefinger along either side of her spine and letting the heat of her body seep into his skin, grounding him to the reality of this moment. “You know, I may not have known who you were yet, but I imagined you everywhere in this place.”

Her hands paused over the dark blue casserole dish as she looked up at him with a wistful sort of longing. Her attention darted ever so briefly down to his lips before shooting back up to his eyes. “Oh yeah? Tell me about it.”

“Well, I would come home from work—”

“Late.”

His mouth twitched up into a small smile. “Yes, late, of course. And you would be cooking dinner for us.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, would I?”

"This is my fantasy,” he retorted defensively. “Yes, you would.”

But her smile grew warm and wide, her eyes twinkling as her tongue poked out to touch the top of her teeth. “You know I would. And there would’ve been plenty of time to let your favorite bottle of wine breathe.” Without warning, she pulled from their tender moment and skipped to the stove. “All right. I’m here. Then what?”

Ignis stepped up behind her, removed her hair clip, and swept her hair over her shoulder, exposing the back of her neck to his mouth. “I always longed to touch you.”

He pulled her back to his chest, just barely grazing his lips along the back of her neck until he felt the tiny hairs prickle against his skin. She arched into the contact as he skimmed both hands down her sides, across her hips, and back up her torso.

“I’d of course be overcome immediately by those talented hands of yours,” she said breathily as his mouth found one of his favorite spots behind her ear, and she shuddered against him as he followed his wet caress up with a scrape of his teeth against her warm skin.

“You’d be calling out my name already.”

 _Cocky bastard,_ she said amusedly, but as she brought a hand around to grasp his hip, she sighed aloud, “Yes. Ignis.”

He inhaled into her neck deeply, tasting that pine and kithairon and almost dusty scent of time in the back of his throat—the source of life, as far as he was concerned. But it was mixed with the far too familiar scent of his old life—his old cleaning products, the ever-present aroma of the building itself. When he opened his eyes to see that suffocating kitchen in that suffocating city with his entire suffocating future laid out before him, he couldn’t help but freeze as it all came crashing down on him.

Everything he once was, everything he used to be truly was gone, which he’d been well-aware of for some time now, but it was no substitute for standing in the middle of the wreckage of his past pressed against his future. The charge he had so painstakingly taken care of his entire life was gone and may not ever truly return.

He was suddenly drowning in them—the losses he’d endured and that persistent nagging insistence that he was happier here in this apocalypse than he’d ever been when everyone else was alive and happy. How incredibly narcissistic was that? What right did he have to be happy in this world when Noct wouldn’t have a future? When countless others were dying? What right did he have to fear what was in store for the both of them when so many people had lost everything?

“Hey,” she soothed, turning around in his arms, pressing him up against the wall beside them, and sweeping into his mind. Her presence there was able to guide him to the present, for no matter how many times he’d fantasized about having a life partner, his imagination had never taken him quite as far as telepathy. “Of course you have the right to be happy, to be afraid, to feel. We’re doing all we can to save them all, love, but you can’t stop living in the meantime.”

“Forgive me. It’s just that . . . I thought I knew everything when I left this place behind—who I was, how to cook,” he snorted a little at the words, at the insinuation that he’d already been reduced to that despite his best efforts, “how to fight. Everything that was expected of me and even a little beyond that. I kept a close eye on my adversaries, carefully analyzing their every step and calculating their every weakness to my advantage for Noct’s sake. I was going to see Noct through this, through everything we didn’t know was coming. But _Astrals_ , was I wrong, so very wrong, when I got out there. About everything.”

“Tell me what you need,” she murmured, grazing her lips along the line of his chin and down his outstretched neck as he stared up at the ceiling. “I’m here. I’m real. Whatever you need from me, take it, let me give it to you, whatever. Ignis, please, love.”

And here was yet another aspect of this new world so very different than his old one—the fact that all he needed to do to receive something for him and him alone was ask for it. “Just touch me. Please, Rose,” he gasped. “Anywhere, any way, it doesn’t matter.”

Her hands moved from his ribs to the buttons on his shirt as a crash of thunder sounded right above their heads, rattling the loose window next to them and making the wall at his back vibrate.

He leaned down to capture her mouth to cover his flinch of surprise, flicking his tongue against her soft lips as he felt her questing fingertips palm the patch of hair on his chest and stroke his abdominals. Burying his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and opening her mouth beneath his, he tried to shutter that overwhelming neediness he hadn’t experienced since Altissia, but her heart so clearly on display loving him was making him weak. She tasted like breathlessness, she tasted of the wild.

He pulled away to close his eyes and rest his forehead against hers. “Rose,” he breathed on an exhale.

As always, she seemed to know exactly what he wanted when he maneuvered her toward the bedroom, as she immediately leapt up onto his hips, gripped him with her knees, and cupped his jaw in both her hands.

 _I love you_ , she whispered as her mouth moved over his, breathing that life into him. _Never, ever forget that._

_As I will always love you._

He stumbled a little when he discovered his bedroom door was not quite as far as he’d remembered it, but he recovered quickly, stopping only to set her down in front of the bed and tear her jacket off her shoulders. They helped each other to undress quickly and silently, letting that frantic need to consume pass between them and feed the other’s desperation as they nipped and lipped at any exposed skin they could reach. As many lonely nights as he’d spent in this bed, quickly and efficiently taking care of himself so he wouldn’t be plagued by that pesky desire, a part of him was more than looking forward to sharing the experience for once. But just as he was about to push her onto the bed, take his sweet time, and show her just how much he’d learned from her, she placed a hand to his chest to stop him.

“There’s something I want to do first. Please?”

He furrowed his brow down at her. Had he really been that forward? She so rarely took the lead that he began to question whether he’d too often concentrated on taking from her and giving to her rather than allowing her to give and take from him.

“Stop second-guessing yourself. You know I’ll ask for something when I want it—which is what I’m doing now.”

“By all means,” he said, gesturing to the bed, but she led him forward first.

“On your stomach.”

The scratchy sheets weren’t nearly as dusty as he was expecting, but they still smelled stale as he climbed onto his old bed completely naked for the first time. That whispering prickle traveling up the backs of his legs told him that she was letting her hair trail over his skin as she moved up his body, just as she knew he loved. The heat leaking from between her legs settled over his backside as she sat on him, leaning forward to suckle at the back of his neck.

“Mmm,” he groaned in appreciation as he reached behind him to stroke her hip.

He felt her sit back up as she ran reverent hands over his back, starting with gentle fingertips before curling her nails to whisper against his skin. Gods damn it, it had been far too long since they’d had the chance to truly enjoy one another like this. He should have known but hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed this skin to skin contact he’d grown to crave. But each time the desire for it would cross his mind at his desk or in the field, he’d have to brush it aside in favor of everything that needed to be done first.

“I remember the very first time I met you very clearly,” she said casually, but the tone in her voice made him suspect she had some grand point to make. He let himself relax under her hands, flexing his hips into the mattress to relieve a little of that aching heaviness he was looking forward to drawing out tonight.

“I don’t. Honestly, I’m a little muddled as to when exactly our first meeting was. And who knows if some memory of you helping me cross the street when I was four will suddenly surface?”

She waited for the flash of lightning to bring the answering roll of thunder before she answered, “My first meeting with you wasn’t your first with me. You marched into that kitchen with such command of yourself—as though you owned the place.”

“I’d spent far too much time in there,” he groaned as she wrapped her hands around his shoulders and squeezed.

“Your mind was a storm; I could feel it—shifting and dancing, quick, bright, and colorful—a flickering flame in the dark. And then I glanced at your face . . . just for a moment.”

Ignis held his breath as her hands paused in kneading the knots beneath his shoulder blades.

“Your expression was so calm, serene almost, but that mind was on fire in the intensity of those eyes of yours.” She leaned over him, her soft breasts pushing up against his back as he felt her hot breath tickle at his ear. “The beauty of it still stuns me every day, Ignis. I saw you then, and I can’t stop.”

“Imagine that which you’ve been trained to be your entire life was also your greatest fear,” he confessed, closing his eyes to block out the sight of his bare little room. “I was not to stand out, so I didn’t, but _oh, Rose,_ I so wanted _someone_ to see me. And you did. You saw me when I was invisible.”

“How could I not?” she asked incredulously, accentuating her words with a caress down his back. “My god, look at you.”

He bucked his hips just enough for her to rise up so he could turn and yank her to his chest, threading his hands in her long hair and holding her to him tightly. Pressing a long, hard kiss against her forehead, he said, _You might be surprised at how well I managed to succeed in my goal._

“Ithīr,” she whispered against his neck. “Please, tell me what you want.” 

He grazed his fingertips over her ribs, appreciating the perfect shape of her trim figure that seemed to glow even in the dim light of the storm still beating itself against his windows.

“That you chose me . . . of everyone in the universes,” he murmured. “You know what I want.”

“You chose me too, you know. Not like just anyone would have me. And of course I know what you want, but I want to hear you say it.”

This wasn’t how he had planned for this liaison to go when they’d first come in here. He’d wanted to show her how grateful he was to have her, to demonstrate how much he’d learned of her body, to apply that intimate knowledge with a tactician’s preciseness and make her cry his name at the perfect clap of thunder so they wouldn’t be overheard.  

But as she wrapped her insistent lips around the edge of his jaw and let his length slip through her folds, he found himself gasping, the words seemingly ripped from his throat.

“Love me . . . please. Take care of me.”

She wouldn’t judge him in the least for this most weak and selfish desire of his heart, but though the words had been confessed freely, they hadn’t been so unreservedly. Why did it hurt so much to admit that he so desperately wanted what she already gave him?

Her lips moved to his face, kissing his forehead, skimming down to his left cheekbone, then gently pressing to his lips. Eager as he was to taste her again, he leaned up to open her mouth with his, but she pulled back before caressing his lower lip sweetly between hers. She pulled away again before returning, this time increasing the pressure. Again and again, she advanced and retreated, increasing the intensity before she _finally_ sealed their mouths together and entwined her tongue with his. She always left a sharp, clear flavor on the tip of his tongue—something that reminded him of the time she’d asked him to taste the sky in their field behind the chocobo ranch. She pulled back once more, letting their breaths mingle between them in the privacy curtain her hair created around their faces.

“Athon, __Ithīr,” she affirmed. “And no matter what the coming days bring, I always will.”__

For once, he didn’t touch her beyond the occasional brush of his fingers over her body or down the long strands of her hair as she started with his face and moved lower—running her hands and mouth over his fevered skin as he breathed into her touch. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, allowing himself to be transported away from that lonely little bedroom to the windswept bower that he now referred to as home. And for once, she took her time, letting him linger in that sweet agony of desire as long as he wished as she slowly worked on him.

 _For all that you call me a goddess, look at you,_ she purred as she scraped her teeth across his chest and traced the lines of his outer abdominals. _A piece of the heavens yourself._

_No one else ever seemed to think so._

_Their loss, love. You’re a pleasure to know and a joy to look at._

The smallest of whimpers escaped his closed lips when her hair teasingly brushed against his pulsing erection at the very same moment her mouth closed around his left hip bone and sucked hard. The rain was still lashing against the glass, filling the room with a heavy drumming that drowned out his moment of weakness, but he nevertheless flung the back of his hand to his lips, softly biting the skin to keep himself quiet.

“Hey, we’re still safe,” she murmured against his stomach. “The storm’s still raging. Let me hear you a little, yeah? Let go for me, love.”

Her breasts moved to frame his length as she kissed and licked at the trail of hair on his heaving lower belly before moving up to trace around his navel with her lips. He pushed himself up between her soft, warm flesh, allowing that whimper to morph into a soft whine of encouragement pushed through his gritted teeth. That rush of wet heat he felt of her arousal in response to the sound spurred him to let out a quiet groan and encourage her further.

It always felt _so_ good to let it out a little.

Shifting in anticipation as she leaned over him, he sucked in a lungful of air between his teeth as she grazed the very tip of her tongue from his base to his tip.

“Please,” he panted.

“Mmm,” she hummed, her lips just shy of the underside of his ridge, close enough that he could feel the tickle of her breath. “You beg for it, and yet you love the torture, don’t you?”

He wasn’t capable of an eloquent or witty reply, so he settled for nodding vigorously as she wrapped her fingers around the base of him, stroking him firmly. He could feel her blood singing with arousal in a descant to his own. This drawn-out reveling in anticipation had never been her preference. In fact, she typically interrupted his designs on her with her impatience to have him. What was it about this evening that had caused the shift in her usual habit? Not that he was complaining, certainly.

“Be fair. I so rarely get you to myself. Not everyone has the patience of a saint like you.” As she peppered gentle kisses back down his length, she said, “Tell me what you want, love.” She followed up her request with the edging of her thumb along the groove under his head.

“ _Oh_ , I . . . please—your mouth on me. Please.”

This was what he loved about being with her; there was no need to act a part to protect his pride. He could safely display the soft underbelly of precisely what made him weak, and she would relish the revelation and protect it as though it were her own. She complied with his request immediately, plunging him to the back of her throat so suddenly that he had to clench his teeth shut to keep from crying out.

“Rose,” he groaned, reaching down to stroke her hair.

Despite her aggressive start, Laura turned gentle, sucking him lazily in a way that was pleasurable but not nearly enough to build anything but arousal between them, increasing that pressure in his lungs as he breathed against the desire to sit up and haul her over him to thrust into her. Grabbing his second pillow to shove beneath his head, he watched himself slide in and out between her lips and felt her body growing warm as that column of heat roasted her from the inside, stoking his own fire. He fisted his hands in the sheets at his side when she dragged the edge of her teeth up his length before pressing her tongue firmly all the way back down, but he was still no closer to relief when she finally looked up at him through her eyelashes, her eyes dark and wanting.

“Please, come here?” he asked, tugging ineffectually at her shoulders, but she complied, crawling up to settle her head on his chest and his length between the lips of her wet sex.

“Can I—? Do you want . . .?” she asked, sliding back and forth along him until his head caught on her entrance. She froze, waiting for his response, but he could feel her eagerness to relieve that ache she always felt when they’d pushed her arousal too far.

“Yes,” he said in a low voice, wedging a hand between her legs to hold himself steady while she lowered herself onto him.

As before, she began slowly, with shallow thrusts to allow herself time to adjust to his girth while he took long, stuttering breaths against her warm skin. When he had finally seated fully inside her, she took him slowly, worshipfully, leaning forward to enclose him in her curtain of dark hair and press sweet, gentle lips to his. Her goal clearly wasn’t to bring either of them to conclusion anytime soon—merely to make him feel adored, so he rejoiced in it, blocking out the sound of the raging storm outside and the memories inside and focusing instead on her heavy breaths, her sex along his length, her sensitive bud beneath his fingertips.

He began to feel more settled after a time, that desire to prove himself returning in full force, so he rolled them over and pinned her to the mattress beneath him.

“Please, let me show you,” he whispered, nuzzling just below her ear.

When she nodded, he sat up on his knees, bending to melt his lips into the peaks of each velvet-soft breast as she buried her fingers in his hair and scratched deliciously at his scalp. She was already weak to him, having undone herself just as much as she had him, so he wasn’t terribly surprised when she called out his name the moment his hips had aligned to press him just right into her.

“Ignis,” she pleaded, throwing her head back into the pillow.

He smiled down at her, reveling in the trickling waves of pleasure she was sending through their connection, but he was still perfectly in control of himself as he moved in her. The pace he set was slow and fluid, rolling his hips so that his shaft rubbed against her bud and his head pushed at the spot that made the shadow of his name appear on her lips each time he hit it just right.

She was going to come for him twice tonight; he would ensure it, and the first time, it was going to be with a clear head so he could watch every nuance of her expression.

She was so very close now, he could tell in the way she wasn’t saying his name with each thrust but breathing it on every exhalation, “Ithīr, Ignis, Ithīr, Ithīr . . ..”

The clench of her walls around him, the way her eyes had gone wide and blank, her sharp inhalation with every inward stroke . . . he knew it was merely moments away when she squeezed the back of his neck and began quivering.

He drew a slow, sweet kiss from her lips before pulling back to whisper, “Come for me, darling.”

“Oh,” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut tightly and bringing her hands to caress his face as she fluttered around him.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, slowing to draw out her climax, but each stroke was beginning to stoke the fire building in his own spine.  

He gave her a few moments to recover after she’d gone limp, pressing their foreheads together and breathing along with her until she moved her hands from his jaw to his shoulder and nodded.

“Hold on to me, love,” he murmured.

With another breathless nod, she gripped his arms as he began again. He forced himself to relax against that coiling tension, to ease his taught muscles so he could last longer and allow himself the time to work her into another frenzy. Though he knew his words typically spurred her to climax more quickly, he felt he’d already bared too much of his soul aloud this evening for his taste, so he kept silent and instead served her by sending her his affection and gratitude.

But damn his fingers for growing clumsy against her; damn his mind for faltering in his telepathic assault on her senses. Even his words faltered as he felt her shiver beneath him. “So very beautiful. I can’t—oh, I need . . ..”

“You’re not alone, love,” she panted, stroking his neck before reaching up to kiss his forehead, and the words were just what he hadn’t realized he needed to hear. “I’m coming with you. I promise. Tye méla.”

Ignis dutifully held on until she’d crested that first wave with a squeeze and a cry of his name that sent him shuddering into his own unrestrained release. No matter how many times they did this, there would always be something primally satisfying about emptying himself inside her, leaving a piece of himself and his heart behind. That barbaric claiming would always speak to something deep in him, no matter how prosaic the notion seemed in the context of the history of humanity. He’d thought himself to be above such things, but it was just another thing he’d been wrong about.

Suddenly exhausted, he rolled off to the side, pulling her close and nuzzling her neck as they both breathed together.

“Inye tye méla, oialë,” he answered as she nestled into his side so that more of her warm skin rubbed against his. 

He was beginning to drift off to the comforting patter of rain on the roof when he felt an electric shock shoot through their connection. “What is it?”

“Where the _bloody hell_ did you get that?” she demanded softly, and he raised his head, squinting into the darkening room to see what she was staring at on his bedside table.

“Oh, that. It’s uncanny, isn’t it? I bought it in a shop—years ago now.”

“Uncanny? Ignis, it’s identical.”

The statuette he’d kept on the corner of his desk ever since he was twelve years old was the first item he’d ever bought with his wages and the only personal item in his apartment that he’d wanted to return for. Ignis had believed Laura to be an Astral because of the statue that had stood sentinel over his dreams for nearly half his life, but after having seen it again and knowing her so well, it was all too clear that the sculptor had held Laura herself in his mind, not a Messenger form of Shiva, when he’d created it. The artist’s choice to use a sparkling marble that caught and reflected the light was a perfect approximation of her skin, not to mention the figurine’s remarkably identical appearance to his wife. Ignis never could quite figure out how, but they had somehow managed to find onyx shot through with swirling streaks of dark cobalt to simulate the lowlights of her hair, which flowed in windswept waves nearly down to her elbows. Even her eyes—lapis lazuli shot through with swirls of gold—seemed to sparkle with ancient knowledge, bringing the goddess to life in a way that had spoken to him there in that little shop.

She’d been watching over him all this time, and he hadn’t known.

And he finally made the connection.

“The owner of the shop—his father had recently died and was marking down his pieces, which I thought a crime, as he had served as a royal artist for three sitting monarchs . . ..”

“Saxum Rufus,” she interrupted, a smile coloring her tone. “Good old Saxum Rufus. Well, I take it back. Now there are two statues of me that I like.”

“Would you mind putting it away now?”

She stretched just out of his grasp as she leaned forward to touch the base. “Of course,” and in a flash of light that seemed to blend in with the lightning from the storm, it disappeared into the safety of her Pocket. “We can put it in our house when we get back to Lestallum.”

Yes, for the first time in her life, the statue would fit well in their new home, mixed among the art and photos they’d already chosen and hung together. To him, the space was a perfect reflection of their lives together—beautiful yet meaningful, full yet not too cluttered. Imagining his parents climbing the stairs to their little loft and inspecting their carefully chosen décor before settling into the bed he and Rose shared sent an odd frisson of some emotion he couldn’t put a name to.

“Don’t worry,” Laura said as she snuggled deeper into his side and spread a hand wide over his chest. “Your parents are probably too exhausted to have sex in our bed.”

“Bloody hell,” he coughed out, “I wasn’t thinking that at all . . . until you said something.” Searching for something to shake the horrifying thought from his head, he changed the subject. “That’s my bloodline confirmed, then. Second cousin once removed to the late Prince and Princess of Tenebrae.”

“I think it’s time to face facts and accept that you never were a servant, love.” Her tone grew distant as she said, “Special enough to be just beyond human, cursed with divine blood.”

“But I won’t be required for ‘the cleansing,’” he confirmed, but a possible idea struck him at his words—tenuous, frightening, but still an option.

“No,” she said roughly. “And I can feel what you’re thinking already. You can’t take his place, Ignis. You don’t possess the Power of Eos on your own. You still need the Crystal to wield it.”

“I’ll never stop trying for him, up until the very last second,” he ground out, his fingers tightening on her shoulder. “No matter what it takes, I won’t give in.”

Her reply was small but terrifying. “For people like us, living isn’t always a gift.”

The implications of her words were unacceptable, and he didn’t wish to start a quarrel with her right now, so he continued on, “With any luck, we’ll find something in the library or the Citadel that will set us on the correct path regarding Ardyn or the prophecy.”

“Saving his body shouldn’t be an issue; a phoenix down can handle the sword. It’s fulfilling the Crystal’s need for the energy to purge Ardyn and restoring Noct’s astral form after it falls apart that we need to solve.”

There were countless issues to solve, and unfortunately, saving Noct wasn’t even the first on his list. As much as he wanted to dedicate his time solely to solving the mystery, his duty on behalf of the monarchy was to the people first. The backlash from the announcement that Ignis had been named Lord Protector of the Realm had been beyond problematic, and not only because it undermined his already quietly uncertain confidence. Regardless of the people’s lack of faith in him, he would perform to the very best of his ability. He couldn’t afford not to succeed.

“Mmm, and you would look fantastic with a crown on your head. I always thought so.”

The image she sent him—his hair lying flat and mussed and adorned with a circle of gold rising in several jewel-tipped points on his head—intrigued him. But he immediately turned his thoughts away from the reality of ruling. He’d been born an advisor, and he honestly preferred to work in the shadows—appreciated, but not standing out quite _that_ much. Having grown up alongside Noct, he realized that he’d been the one among the two of them with more freedom in life, even if he’d had to do most of Noct’s legwork.

“I recall Noct informing us that night in Longwythe that you’d once been a queen. It’s odd. I knew what was required of royalty my entire life, and yet, I still felt as though there were some power you all possessed that allowed you to rule. And now . . . well, here I am.”

“Sorry, love. Regis and I bumbled along the best we could. We were just as fallible as you . . . probably even more so, as wise as you are for your age.”

“I suppose, at the very least, my heritage will ease the doubts the people have somewhat. Perhaps I can prove myself worthy autonomously of the Marshal. We’re going to get an influx of Tenebraeans as the region grows too cold to cultivate crops, and having a legitimate representative will only smooth relations.”

“You’ll prove yourself worthy; I have no doubts about that, but you won’t be able to say a word about your heritage should the people choose your father to represent Tenebrae on the Council.”

“I suppose you have a point,” he sighed. “These next few years will hardly be easy, and even if we do get the situation stabilized, the nature of our task will only grow more difficult with the darkness.” He ran his fingers from her scalp down her arm, combing out her soft strands with his fingers as he pressed his lips to her hair. “At least we’ll have each other,” he said softly.

“Actually . . .”

“I know.”

And he _had_ known. From the moment she’d returned from evacuating Caem and he’d witnessed her exhaustion as she’d explained how she’d saved that oak to maintain the area’s protection, he’d known he was going to lose her for a time. Perhaps that was the true reason for his fears and muddied thoughts this evening.

“How much do you know?”

“It’s only one of the most important lessons I ever learned. Power comes at a cost.” He tightened his grip on her, closing his eyes and daring to ask, “How long?”

Her answer was not quite as harsh as what he’d been expecting, but it still stole his breath away. “Two years, maybe? The bond should be much like when you’re hunting . . . dormant, but still there. I’ll probably wait until after your birthday to start. Maybe a little longer.”

He blew out a long breath, attempting to get a grip on his dread. “That’s going to take some explaining.”

“Then don’t explain it. Let them think what they like,” she said with a shrug.

“I suppose keeping it quiet may be for the best, if only to keep you safe from Ardyn. I only wish we knew what he was up to.”

She grew silent and melancholy for several moments, with nothing but the sounds of storm and breathing between them. Finally, she said, “I’ll try my best to be there for you, but you saw what that oak did. It may not be possible.”

Again, he closed his eyes against the sight of the little room, burying himself in the light of her thread in his mind. “We’ll survive it together, even if it has to be separately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ads are taken either from in game or Kingsglaive. American Express can be found in the windows of some of the gas stations, Meat & Meet in Insomnia, while the rest are found in the movie. I also used concept art and freeze frames from KG for references of Insomnia, as the city is far more beautiful and complex in these places than in the game. 
> 
> Storms bringing daemons is lore from Monster of the Deep. The Tenebraean oak providing the protection for Caem is lore from Comrades.
> 
> Ignis's apartment was recreated in Sims 4 from the ONE shot we get of his bedroom in Brotherhood. Even its location is...somewhat canon, thanks to OS's help.
> 
> Ebony-flavored Monster Flakes are a real product in the game.


	84. Chapter 84

_“It’d normally be a scorcher here in Lestallum on a day like this, Thursday morning 12 June 758. Latest reports are in on our sun; still experiencing a reduction in wattage and temperatures. But we’re expected to get a decent five and a half hours of sunlight today, so a reminder to all: daemon killing is punishable by a prison sentence unless it’s a matter of life and death, folks! Obvious our Lord Protector of the Realm knows what’s he’s talking about. His Grace is due to deliver a speech on the findings later this week._

_“Next, I wanna take a moment of silence for the three Glaives we lost in an incident outside the Cauthess Depot Tuesday afternoon, where an MA Veles wreaked havoc until it was taken down by a team of Guardians. Experts say that the mech’s autonomous motor system had been overridden by daemonic plasmodia. While the Crownsguard member of the Guardian team is in serious but stable condition, the three Glaives succumbed to their injuries later in the day. Even though Signa, Novus, and Latia were all afflicted by the mysterious breakout of amnesia among the Kingsglaive, doesn’t mean their sacrifice is worth any less. These protectors of the people deserve our utmost respect for putting their lives on the line every day. I encourage you all to acknowledge their sacrifice.”_

The old radio on the corner of his workstation went silent, and Prompto carefully put down the coil he’d been working on to stare down at the rusty and paint-spattered table. Wow. Three Guardians dead—and amnesiac Glaives, at that. It seemed like none of the ones he’d talked to had any family or friends; they just kind of . . . existed. Prompto had seen Latia a few times around Lestallum, and he knew Signa had been responsible for saving King Venetus’s life when he’d helped evacuate Insomnia a couple of years ago. But who was really gonna remember them now that they were gone? Would anyone even put their picture on the wall? He’d have to look through his collection to see if he had any of the three of them.

It’d been a long time since they’d lost so many in one operation. This was gonna make things even harder on Iggy, and he’d been handling things pretty well lately, all things considered. He’d even come to Prompto a couple of times when things got to be too much, but here lately, he’d been looking like he’d been run over by a truck.

The roll of wheels on concrete and the quiet clatter of tools on the floor made him look behind him to see Cindy putting her drill down and sitting up on her roller board thingy. She didn’t make eye contact with him as she looked down at her boots before closing her eyes with a sigh.

“Did you . . . know any of ‘em?” he asked softly, but she only shook her head in response.

“Don’ matter though. They deserve mah respect, same as anyone.”

_“Services at the Memorial Wall will be held at noon on Saturday for any of those wishing to pay their respects in person. In other news, Tenebraeans are coming to Lucis in droves after an unsuccessful start to the growing season this year. The influence of the Glacian’s corpse in conjunction with the reduced sunlight has led to massive reductions in food production over the last two years, leaving the population unable to feed itself. King Venetus of Tenebrae spoke on the airwaves yesterday regarding the matter:”_

_“I’m told that any Tenebraean willing to embrace the Lord Protector’s hospitality is welcome here in Lestallum. The Duke assures me that the Eosian Science Institute is working overtime to ensure that this harvest season will be even more successful than last year’s.”_

_“Any refugees looking for information on relocation should consult Vyv Dorden’s guide, available at all ration stations throughout Lucis, Accordo, and Tenebrae. In the meantime, what can you do to help make tomorrow’s future brighter? Turn off and unplug all devices that aren’t being used—phantom load is a thing, folks! The use of gasoline for recreational purposes is strictly prohibited. Remember: all meteorshard waste is being collected by the EXINERIS ladies to be recycled for thermal purposes, so be sure to collect any pieces you might find on your travels, no matter how small. Most importantly, I know those gray water reclamation systems seem expensive, but it’ll help your rooftop farm flourish, and the government is doing its best to subsidize the cost. Water is just as precious as food! Let’s not waste a drop!”_

“Wish I’d thoughta that sooner,” Cindy sighed from underneath the Gracchus Bellel she’d rolled back underneath. “Laura’s idea, I reckon.”

“Sania’s, actually,” Prompto muttered.

“Oh. Any word on where Laura’s bin? She still doin’ all right?”

Prompto always hated it when she asked this question because he always had to lie to her. “Yeah, she’s allllll good. Still on some super top-secret mission thingy for Iggy.”

The clinking of metal against metal paused. “Well,” she said, drawing the word out, “tell her I said ‘howdy’ when ya see her, ya hear?”

Yeah, he’d do that. Probably’d cry like a baby the next time he actually got a chance to see her, too, but still he said, “Totally!”

_“. . . with the formal alliance cemented between the Kingsglaive, Crownsguard, Hunters, Altissian troops, and Tenebraean and Niflian military, we’ve all been wondering the same thing: When will the King’s Shield step up and take his place as High Commander? Field-Marshal Cor Leonis cites ‘errands and training’ as the reason he’s still covering for the Shield, but so far, no timeline has been established for taking the reins. This comes as a surprise to those championing General Amicitia’s heroic rescue of a Fallstar Farms transport, including the driver and four Guardians, near the abandoned Meldacio Hunter Headquarters two weeks ago.”_

“I still wanna know what that truck was doin’ all the way out there. Ain’t no farms that way, and that thing’s smashed to bits,” Cindy complained. “Gonna take me forever to git her back to some kinda operable.”

“Yeah,” Prompto laughed uncomfortably, “but they’re not gonna talk, so I guess we’ll never find out.”

_“. . . animals and people are competing more and more for resources these days, and as more animal populations lose their minds from the scourge and have to be taken out, the public is looking to ESI and Doctor Sania Yeagre for answers about the future.”_

_“We’re working hard over here to institute Dr. Scientia’s ‘Noah’s Ark’ plan to save a sample population of the species for the ecosystem and for farming purposes, but we’re still running into problems with the ones still out in the wild. They’re drawn to the high voltage of EXINERIS lines, attacking them right alongside the daemons. It’s slowing down the progress to get the grid back up, and if we aren’t careful, we could lose the whole communications grid, too.”_

_“Any chance that these plasmodic bacteria nests you’ve discovered are the sources of the issues, Dr. Yeagre?”_

_“Absolutely. These nests, which I’ve coined ‘niduses’ cause daemons to spawn, infect animals, and release photophilic particles in the air. As far as I can tell, they sometimes appear in areas of high concentration of Starscourge, and sometimes for no reason at all!  Destroying these things as soon as they crop up can help stem the spread of the plague. No license needed for that now, ya hear? These things do worse damage when they exist.”_

_“As the scourge spreads among the people, skeptics are claiming that the outbreak marks the end of days, but believers in the prophecy of the True King are claiming that the darkness portends to the onset of its fulfillment. Both sides concede that the fate of the Chosen remains conjecture. Only time will tell._

_“Next up, Air-Marshal Aranea Highwind returned to Lestallum yesterday after a top-secret mission. The Council of the United Nations of Eos refuses to answer as to her whereabouts for the last two years, but she is expected to be training Guardians in Lestallum for the time being._

_“Finally, a reminder to be sure and report anything suspicious to your local Guardian or UNE Councilmember. There’s still a reward out there that has yet to be collected for any information regarding former Niflian Chancellor Ardyn Izunia. But remember: this man is highly dangerous and should not be approached under any circumstances._

_“Well that’s it for your Update with Upton. Stay safe out there, folks!”_

The airwaves went dead again, this time until tomorrow, and Prompto reached over the scattered filaments, wires, and pliers on his workbench to turn the radio off before the battery went dead.  That was the kinda stuff comic books and movies didn’t really think about when it came to the apocalypse—no more music. Now that he was living it, it made him long for the days when he’d spend hours in the Regalia driving Iggy nuts with the radio or downloading stuff on his Librapod. Music was part of why he liked visiting Lestallum so much now, since there was always someone or a group of someones on the street corners playing the same song over and over again on one instrument or another, but it just wasn’t the same.

He couldn’t even listen to music or play games on the cell phone he’d picked up when they’d returned from Gralea. Maybe that was a sign he was officially a grownup now—business calls.

But Prompto guessed there were some benefits to the garage always being silent—like Cindy taking to chatting with him more and more. She must’ve not been used to the quiet either, cause she was always complaining at whatever she was working on, humming to herself, or telling him the latest joke she’d heard from a passing Guardian.

He could tell she missed Cid; he bet they were always teasing and griping at each other as they worked.

“Oh, shoot, I forgot I told Gladio I’d have that generator ready for ‘im this mornin’,” Cindy said, her arms and legs going limp as she lay collapsed beneath the Bellel. “He’s been deliverin’ ‘em to all the havens to supplement the runes. Guess they ain’t as powerful as they usta be.”

Prompto set the needle-nose pliers he’d just picked up back down on the workbench and spun to face her as she rolled out from underneath the car. It wasn’t like he was making any progress on these meteorshard headlights anyway. Even when they got it to work, the coil would use up so much energy as it slowly warmed up to full power that it would sap the shard dry immediately. And from the looks of things, they weren’t ever going to have the tech or materials available to reverse engineer more than four or five pairs of the Regalia’s daemon-repelling lights.

“Wait, Gladio’s coming this morning? When?”

He jumped up from his stool when he saw her head over toward the generator in the corner, waving her away as he hefted the handles and wheeled the heavy motor next to the car in her little circle of lights. It didn’t matter that they were the highest priority on the list to get power restored since Ardyn had taken the whole grid down a couple of years ago. They needed chocobos and a hell of a lot of firepower to run brand new lines out to them, and with Wiz’s completely torn apart and the chocobos scattered to all the outposts with power, there weren’t enough people with the know-how to train them. Until then, they were getting by with fuel from the nearby refinery in exchange for some extra muscle to keep their generators running.

“Should be here any time in the next hour or so.”

“Aww, man, Iggy’s stopping by. He’s heading into Insomnia today.”

Cindy looked up suddenly at his words, her expression carefully blank, but her bright green eyes were glittering with some kinda secret knowledge. Six, she was still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen—all golden hair and shiny sun-kissed skin, even though there was barely any sun out. There was nothing he wanted more than to show her how much he’d worship her if she’d only let him, but two years of running escort missions, keeping Hammerhead daemon-free, and working with her here in the shop seemed to have friend-zoned him more than anything else.

Which really, really sucked.

“That’s still goin’ on, is it?” she asked innocently, bending to stick her hand down deep into the motor. She pulled back and inspected her fingers, rubbing the black oil between her thumb and index finger with a grimace.

Prompto narrowed his eyes at her casual tone but didn’t call her out on it. “Yeah, don’t think it’s gonna end any time soon,” he chuckled falsely. “You know how stubborn Gladio can be.”

“Ignis ain’t exactly the surrenderin’ type, neither,” she said with a smile, leaning over to wiggle a stretch of cracked tubing. She jerked her head in the direction of the Bellel. “Ya mind finishin’ her up fer me? Gotta backlog a mile long since the place in Lestallum can’t git the tools and facilities we got. Pawpaw’s bin spittin’ nails fer a better weapons upgradin’ setup, but there ain’t much they can do.”

He managed to snap his mouth shut before it dropped open too far. He hoped he didn’t look like an idiot. “Really?” Maybe he’d been wrong and was making some progress with her after all, if she was willing to trust him with her work like this. “Yeah! Count on me!”

Prompto managed to sit down on her roller thingy without looking like too much of an idiot, which he considered a big win already, and rolled himself up under the car to see where she’d left off reinstalling the new radiator after a group of Hunters ripped it out running over a flan last week. Even though he and Cindy had spent most of their time scrubbing the front of the car free of blindingly pink daemon scourge in their spare time, the thing would probably always reek of rotten daemon flesh—kinda bitter and cloying in a way that clung to his nostrils long after he’d left the garage, like burnt sugar.

The thing was that even though he wasn’t above this kinda work, they didn’t have much time to be doing stupid stuff like that anymore. Every job these days required knowing how to use a weapon, and people like him and the other Guardians could only double up on professions to a certain extent. When Prompto wasn’t helping Cindy with the bulbs or keeping all the cars and farm equipment running, he was running his guns on escort missions or patrolling the fence lines at night on the lookout for daemons. Even his so-called free time was spent trying to come up with more efficient ways to use meteor dust and drawing up plans to use wind and water power in places like Caem so they wouldn’t have to wait on the new chocobo lines to get restored. Trips to Lestallum these days were filled with more training from Gladio, Cor, and the Guardians before he had to head out to the square to learn more about upgrading weapons from Cid.

This was the kinda stuff he should’ve been learning in school all those years ago in Insomnia. Fat lotta good his history classes were doing him now.

An image flashed over the backs of his eyelids as he blinked—him and Noct slumped over their desks with a game of hangman or moogle bait as Ms. Cornus droned on in the background about what Niflheim did to Tenebrae hundreds of years ago. A bullet lodged in his chest at the memory, and he scrunched his eyes tight and shook his head roughly, willing the image to go away. Noct was safe in the Crystal—Iggy and Laura had promised. But even when he did finally come back, only the four of them knew he wasn’t ever really coming back. It was like mourning for a friend that wasn’t dead yet, and Prompto found these stabbing flashbacks weren’t getting any easier to deal with over the years.

“Oh yeah, forgot to mention—Penelope’s stoppin’ by late this afternoon to pick up some radios I fixed up for her. They’re sittin’ on that third shelf in back. Think _you_ should be the one to give ‘em to her when she gets here.”

That familiar, nauseating feeling reared up in his chest right alongside the hurt, but he managed to chuckle through it. “Sure, no prob!”

That was a bad sign, wasn’t it? No matter how much time he spent with her, no matter how much he tried to let on he was interested, she was never gonna take the bait. Maybe—just once—he’d come out and say it straight. Just this once, and if she turned him down, he could really move on and stop doing the casual dating thing whenever he was in Lestallum.

Now would probably be a good time. It was pretty quiet, and he’d have a good excuse for not seeing her face when she turned him down. But shit, even just _thinking_ about saying it out loud was making him feel like he’d slammed back a case of Ebony.

Pushing aside the nausea and closing his eyes to block out the sight of the radiator over his head, he took the plunge. “I was wondering . . . maybe um . . . later when you’re finished?” He dropped his shaking hand to his chest when he suddenly lost the strength to keep holding it up to the underside of the car.

“Ain’t never gonna be finished,” she scoffed, “but what kin I do ya for?”

“I was wondering . . . if you wanna have breakfast?”

He swore the silence before she started speaking lasted an hour as he lay there on that board underneath that car and fought the urge to throw up right then and there. “Aww, well ain’t you sweet?” she laughed, and the sudden inflation of hope buoying in his chest made him wanna float away until she spoke again. “Yeah, if you’re goin’ anyway, thanks! Bring me back some oatmeal with some sugar on top? Takka knows how I like it.”

“You got it, girl!”

Sounded like his princess was in another castle, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, and the idea hurt more than he thought it would. He shut his mouth and took a few slow, deep breaths, begging his heart to slow down so he wouldn’t be sick all over the place. After a while, he was able to swallow the rock in his throat and get back to work wrestling the cooling fan back into place, but it was slow going with his hands still trembling. Prompto kept quiet as he finished up, listening to Cindy chatter away at the generator like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. He used to always love the melodic dips and curves of her accent filling their little garage, but it was kinda grating on his nerves this morning for some reason.

Radiator installed, cooling fan spinning freely, he rolled out from underneath the Bellel just as he heard Iggy’s voice saying his name.

“Prompto.”

He just barely remembered to put the brakes on the little rolling cart thingy before leaping up to greet him. “Hey, man! Wassup? How’re things goin’ over there in Litstallum these days?”

Judging by the dark and lined bags under his eyes as he approached the circle of lights, Iggy didn’t really need to answer. Prompto got plenty of shit for being Insomnian and official best friend to the missing King, but it seemed like a national pastime for everyone to drop their issues off at Iggy’s feet. Even though Iggy’d been leading them all as King Regent of Lucis in a way Prompto had to admit Noct wouldn’t’ve been able to do, he’d been catching all the hate since he’d taken over—for King Mors scaling the Wall back before they were even born, King Regis ignoring the outlanders their whole lives before losing the kingdom, and now Noct for not being around.

Prompto knew he wouldn’t say a word in front of Cindy, so he jerked his head toward the door he’d just entered and said, “Come outside.”

“I don’t wish to pull you away from your work,” Iggy said with a frown, but he still took a few casual steps back toward the door as Prompto followed. “I merely wanted to check in before we set out.”

“Nah, was gonna go get some bee-fast anyway,” he replied, slapping him on the shoulder and pushing him a little to encourage him toward the door. Prompto led him out into the weak, chilly light, shivering in his sleeveless red tee, but the cold wasn’t enough to summon his jacket for the few minutes this was gonna take. He decided the best approach was to gauge Iggy’s mood first before asking after him or Laura. “You run into much trouble gettin’ here?”

“A few daemons out on the roads, but we were able to maneuver past without incident.”

Well, that told him pretty much nothing. He was never any good at these games like Iggy was. “How’re things?”

“Relatively well, all things considered. Due to the lower population in Altissia, they’ve been able to maintain a decent standard of living, with enough room to farm and enough hydroelectric power to light the region. We’re keeping the news quiet, however, to prevent refugees from moving back and destabilizing the area.”

“Holly’s kinda worried about having enough meteor shards left after a decade or so. We’re tryin’ to come up with alternative sources here, but no luck so far,” Prompto said as he rubbed at the back of his neck. He bet if someone really smart like Iggy’d had time to research it with Cindy instead of him, they’d have figured something out by now. “Lestallum doesn’t have any rivers and isn’t really windy, so we might have to relocate everyone after a while.”

“We could begin building a facility by the river to the north, but it wouldn’t be enough to power the entire city, let alone all of Lucis.” He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a weary sigh. “We’ll be fine so long as we keep finding shards. They were spread far and wide during the War of the Astrals, so it’s all a matter of looking. We may have to resort to mining the larger chunks in the Lestallum crater and in what’s left in Cauthess as a last resort.”

“I’d feel a lot better if Titan had left that rock behind. Think maybe we could use that thingy in Costlemark’s basement for power?”

“No. It relies on the sun, remember? It’s the sole reason why I have to explore those sites one final time for information on the scourge or Ardyn before it becomes too dark for them to open anymore.”

Prompto stopped shifting back and forth in an attempt to keep warm and instead tugged on Iggy’s elbow to lead him farther away from the side door where Cid’s old lounging chair still sat. If Iggy wasn’t gonna take the hint and start talking about what he really wanted to know, he guessed he was just gonna have to ask directly.

“How’s Laura?”

Iggy’s eyes dropped to a crack in the pavement. “The same,” he said in a clipped tone. “I don’t expect the situation to change for another couple of months.”

Prompto’s mouth fell open in surprise. Literally every other time Prompto had asked about her, he’d gotten blown off with a ‘She’ll be fine.’ Any attempts to ask questions beyond that were usually like talking to a brick wall, so Prompto had stopped trying about a year and a half ago. Could he maybe push his luck today?

“Why’d she have to do it this way?” The work she was doing was vital to keeping them all alive, but he hated how alone Iggy was. With Prompto here in Hammerhead, Gladio not speaking to him, Laura gone, and Iggy’s parents being . . . well, parents, he was pretty much carrying the world on his shoulders by himself. There _had_ to be a better way. “Couldn’t she . . . I dunno, use her stones or leave the world like she did last time?”

“The stones she brought are depleted, save for the ones she gave us, and she refuses to use those for our sakes.” A hint of a smile spread his lips a little wider. “She can be the most infuriatingly stubborn woman when she sets her mind to it.” He hesitated a moment, his eyes shifting down and away again. “After what happened last time, we didn’t think the risks were worth it to return to her home universe after each session, given the nature of our operations here.”

“Yeah,” Prompto agreed. It seemed like any time she used gold magic, there was some kinda disastrous consequence for it, and he guessed her returning to Lucis every three months or so completely spaced out after a twelve-year absence would’ve been pretty nuts. He softened his tone when he spoke his next words, careful to keep them free of any kind of pity that would clam Iggy up, but letting him know he was there for him if he needed it. “How’re you doing with all that?”

A deep wrinkle formed between his eyebrows as he frowned. “I’m managing just fine. We wouldn’t be seeing much of each other regardless, what with our duties pulling us into separate spheres.”

“Yeah, speaking of, what’s got you going back into Insomnia? Thought food and tech and stuff was pretty much all cleared out.”

“My mother’s research. As it turns out, information on an assassination attempt almost twenty-five years ago may be beneficial to us, so I’m taking her, Y’jhimei, and Talcott into the city to retrieve it.”

“That’s a lotta rookies, and this would be Talcott’s first mission, right?” he said doubtfully, looking over to the diner-slash-hunter station. “You need me to come as backup?”

Even though the public didn’t know the full story behind Ardyn yet, he’d never understand why Iggy insisted on doing all these sensitive missions himself. Cor had freaked out a couple of times about ‘the Lord Protector’ risking his life on all these secret missions when he had an entire army at his command. He guessed Laura wasn’t the only stubborn one.

“I appreciate the offer, but I can only leave when everything else is operating at peak efficiency. You’re a vital part of that. And this team . . . we’ll need to take additional precautions so as not to be caught out when night falls, but I have faith in their abilities.”

“Figured Y’jhimei at least would be good at the whole workin’ in the dark thing—with the whole . . . cat thing.”

“She’s a Seeker of the Sun,” Iggy said matter-of-factly, like that would explain everything.

A shuddering clatter of metal on metal made the both of them look up suddenly, hands tensing at their sides in preparation for an attack, but the sight of an old Crownsguard SUV being let through the gate by one of the guards saw them both softening their stances as they relaxed. Prompto leaned forward, trying to squint through the dark tint to see if he could identify the driver, but all he could make out was an enormous shadow. That didn’t necessarily mean Gladio was driving, but knowing his luck . . ..

“Hey,” he said, pointing back toward the side door. “Come inside real quick. I got something I gotta give you.”

Iggy’s eyes darted back to the diner, where Trina, Talcott, and Y’jhimei were stepping out the front door and heading in the direction of the garage, then back to the SUV, which was stopped just inside the gate. “Best make it quick.”

With both Laura and Noct so far away, Prompto’s access to the armiger had been reduced to his section alone, which pretty much left him able to store clothes and arms and nothing else. He figured he was still pretty lucky, since most people didn’t even have that much these days, but it was weird having to put things somewhere and remember where he’d left them. But since he’d been terrified he was gonna accidentally put a rusty wrench on top of these all day, he had no trouble remembering where he’d placed this particular gift for Iggy.

“I uh . . . kinda dunno if this is good timing, but Vyv owed me a favor, and I wanted to give these to you before they got ruined . . . you know, for your photobook.” He led Iggy around Cindy’s space to his workbench and stood on his tiptoes to reach the highest shelf. With a little hop, he grabbed the stack of photos he’d brought over from his place this morning before handing them over to Iggy with a grimace. “They were part of the last batch I took before . . . you know.”

Prompto had gone back and forth a bunch of times debating whether he should give these to Iggy—either reminding him of everything he didn’t have right now or reminding him of everything they were fighting for. He still didn’t know if he’d made the right decision when Iggy sucked in a quick breath through his nose, his eyes widening as his hands paused over the image of him and Laura sitting on that bunk in Zegnautus with their new rings sparkling on their hands.

“My parents have been asking to see these,” Iggy said under his breath, flipping to the next photo of the five of them together. A pained grimace spread over his face as he let out a little groan in the back of his throat. “And I can hardly show them, can I? We’re all in our bloody underpants.” But his eyes darted up to meet Prompto’s as his voice grew soft. “Still . . . thank you, Prompto. I appreciate it more than I can say.”

“No sweat, Ig,” he said with a warm smile. For a split second, Prompto thought Iggy had lit the photos on fire when a bright flash of light made them disappear between his hands. He flinched at the silver flare and whoosh of wind. “Whoa! When’d you learn do to that?”

“It’s . . . complicated,” he said, narrowing his eyes. Reaching underneath his collar, he plucked out a familiar silver chain—Laura’s sapphire and mythril pendant swinging from the end. He held it there just long enough for Prompto to register what it was before tucking it back beneath his shirt. “She’s allowed me the use of her necklace to assist me in accessing her Pocket while she’s indisposed. It comes in handy.”

“I bet. Since you got that, think you can pick up any Nif stuff if ya happen to see it while you’re out? Gotta do some runs myself to see what kinda tech I can find. Looks like the bastards took all the MT generators when they pulled out though.”

“Surely you aren’t going alone.”

“Nah. Got some Guardians I’m taking with me to Fort Vaullerey to see what we can find. Gotta stop in Old Lestallum so I can interview Johnny Crow for you guys about your mysterious Kenny. Guess he’s been selling those costumes to people, so the culprit might be harder to track down than you think.”

“I don’t believe the diner manager’s name is truly Mr. Crow, but I do appreciate your assistance nevertheless. I can’t apprehend this Kenny, as he’s done nothing wrong, and yet we’d very much like to ascertain his identity.”

“Yeah! No prob! It’s like trying to find out the secret identity of a real-life superhero! And hey,” he said lowering his voice in case Iggy’s group was close to coming inside, “if Y’jhimei does good, maybe I can take her on the next one, since she already knows Perpetouss.”

“I’ll bring up the matter on this mission and see if she’s amenable. With our stores of potions so limited and no way to make more until Noct returns, I’d be relieved to know you’re taking along a talented healer.”

They stopped speaking as the squeak of the side door followed by the heavy thunk of boots on concrete caught their attention. As much as Prompto wished it was one of Iggy’s group, he had a feeling they wouldn’t be so lucky. Iggy’s tall frame was blocking the newcomer from Prompto’s view, but his eyes darted over to Cindy in time to see her look up from the generator and smirk in triumph at the new arrival.

She just didn’t understand that this wasn’t gonna help anything. 

“Well, well, well,” Gladio sang in a sly, condescending tone that reminded Prompto so much of Ardyn that he had to look to Iggy to make sure it actually wasn’t. “Our Lord and Master descending from on high to visit us plebs down here in the mud for his top-secret missions. You sure you’re not too good to speak to our Prompto here, Your Grace?”

“Gladiolus,” Iggy greeted with a voice like ice as he straightened and turned.

“Stop it,” Prompto cut in, hoping he could put a stop to this before they started another shouting match like the day they’d left Tenebrae for Lucis. He did his best to glare up at a smirking Gladio. “Your generator isn’t ready yet, so why don’t you wait in the diner while we finish it up for you?”

“Naw, I’m good here, thanks,” Gladio said, his smirk widening to a grin. “So! Where’s the little woman these days, huh? Still busy playin’ gardener when we got people dyin’ left n’ right? Ya see, I talked to Sania, and ESI hasn’t made any headway on the scourge in almost two years, besides her own work.”

“If you were truly concerned for Laura’s wellbeing, you’d visit your own estate and check on her,” Iggy replied in a soft, smooth tone.

“And why should I do that? You don’t got Noct to mother anymore. I figure since we’re doin’ so good on food we almost don’t need rations, you got her shacked up there playin’ Mrs. Homemaker. It’s time she got her ass in gear and started working on the scourge.”

“Gladio,” Prompto interrupted. “You know that’s not tr—"

“And you’re not doing much except to pacify the civs with a government, but then you’re disappearing off to gods knows where to do gods knows what with those tombs and your secret research. Two most brilliant minds on this planet—wasting their time while people die every day in this war.”

“You know very well what I’m doing in those ruins. And this has nothing to do with the scourge,” Iggy shot back. “This is about Zegnautus. When will you let petty grudges go? For once in your life, why can’t you trust someone other than yourself?”

“Cause I go by the info I can see, and what I see is good Guardians being killed left and right while the two most powerful people in the world play King and Farmer’s Wife. I manage all my work. Why can’t she do her research while working on the crops? Why can she show mercy for that asshole but not the people out there risking their lives?”

“You’re so . . .” Iggy began, heat rising in his pale cheeks as he stepped forward and searched for his next word, “ _blinded_ by this pettiness that you’ve forgotten the _one_ lesson we’ve learned on this journey of ours!”

Gladio took a step forward as well, his fist clenching into a ball at his side. “Oh yeah, and what’s that?!”

“You absolute bloody _moron_ ,” he spat, his own fist at his side twitching.

Without giving it a second thought, Prompto stepped between them—even if it meant being punched in the face—just to keep them from coming to blows right here in the garage. Since Gladio was the one being a dick right now, he chose to face him and fix him with his fiercest glare, but Gladio didn’t look at him as he continued to stare Iggy down.

“Ignis,” a woman’s voice gasped from behind them all, and the three of them turned to see Trina stepping away from Y’jhimei and Talcott. “Language!”

“Noct wouldn’t want us fighting like this you guys,” Prompto added.

The hiss Iggy tossed over Prompto’s shoulder was enough to still everyone in the room, including Cindy, who was sashaying up to the three of them with a pipe wrench slung casually over her shoulder.

“Power always comes at a cost.”

Five people stood in frozen silence, eyes darting around at one another to see who would speak first while the remaining two kept their blazing, furious attention locked on one another.

Cindy was the one to break the spell and speak first. “All right, you two, gonna have to ask one of ya to wait outside if ya can’t behave like gentlemen. Pawpaw’d have a conniption fit if there was fightin’ in here.”

Without breaking eye contact with Iggy, Gladio growled, “I’ll be waitin’ in the diner. Come get me when it’s ready.” Without another word, he spun on his heel, pushed past a gaping Talcott and Y’jhimei, and slammed the side door open.

Iggy’s face seemed to melt, transforming from hard and glittering to blank and placid faster than a traffic light. Turning to Cindy and bowing his head a little, he said, “You have my most sincere apologies. Such a display was most unbecoming.”

“It was my fault,” she admitted with a frown as she leaned into her hip. “Thought if you two got to talkin’ agin . . ..”

“I see,” Iggy said gently, but his lips turned down into a stern frown. “Unfortunately, our quarrel is old and such that a short liaison isn’t sufficient to alleviate it. These things mend themselves with time.”

“Sometimes ya don’t got time,” she replied softly. “Sometimes now’s all ya got.”

“I understand. Truly, I do, but the offense doesn’t lie with me in this case.”

Trina stepped forward into the light, her light brown hair swinging around her chin as she shook her head at Iggy accusingly.  

“Laura’s been working on a farm? Why didn’t you say something? Of _all_ the times we’ve asked!”

“She’s working on a lot of things, mother,” Iggy responded patiently, but Prompto knew that if this had been Noct, he’d’ve been pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation by now.

Trina let out a little huff, blowing her bangs up dramatically. “She _should_ be by your side! All these awful rumors going around about her . . . about the both of you.” She turned to Prompto, who took a nervous step back. “Have _you_ seen her? No one has in over two years, and he won’t say what’s happened. And no one seems to know anything about her, past or present.”

“Um . . ..”

“May we _please_ discuss this at a later time?” Iggy said, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

“Always a later time with you!” This time, she took a step closer to Prompto, staring him down until he was forced to meet her fiery green eyes. Seriously, he could see the resemblance, and he half-wondered if she was about to put a dagger to his throat. “Is he secretive about his childhood with you, too? The hours I’ve spent trying to learn something of my son, and all I get are stories about Prince Noctis.”

Prompto couldn’t help but glance over at Iggy, who was standing tall and stiff with his jaw clenched tight. Yeah, Prompto could probably guess why Trina had heard more about Noct as a kid than Iggy himself, but he was at a loss for how to answer the hecteyes staring him down.

“Umm . . ..”

“Hey, Your Majesty?” Talcott asked hesitantly, stepping forward to touch Trina’s elbow. “Why don’t we go wait in the truck?”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” Y’jhimei added softly.

It was only after they’d spoken that Prompto really noticed the other two standing behind Iggy and Trina. Talcott’s eyes were large and pleading—older than they should’ve looked for a ten-year-old kid in a way that reminded him sadly of little Iggy. He looked like he was about to join the now non-existent Crownsguard in that black t-shirt, leather jacket, and jeans.

“Hey, buddy! You’re lookin’ pretty bada—” He cut off the end of his word just in time as Iggy tilted his head and raised a disapproving eyebrow. “Pretty rad!”

“Thanks,” he said softly, still leading a reluctant Trina away.

And Y’jhimei had also completely changed her look since he’d last seen her a year ago, ditching her skirt and crop top for something more like Noct’s old Miqo’te costume—with knee-high boots, poofy pants, and a black-and-white shirt unbuttoned at her navel. Even the book at her side had been exchanged for a shortsword, but the most dramatic difference was her expression. She’d grown hard and solemn since they’d left her at Perpetouss over two years ago—her formerly luminous hazel eyes now dull and her ears drooping with the kind of permanent weariness Prompto often saw on Ig.

Seriously, everyone looked as tired as he felt these days, but he wasn’t gonna give up.

“Hey, Y’jhimei!” he greeted brightly with a wave and a smile, which she quietly returned. “It was good seein’ you all! Make sure you stop by on your way back and visit, ‘kay?”

“Sure! I’d like that,” Talcott called back, turning to look over his shoulder. “See ya when we get back.”

Iggy waited until they’d gone through the door and Cindy had gone back to the generator to speak. “I shouldn’t have allowed him to goad me like that.”

“Maybe you should take a break after this. Head to the farm just to be with her a couple days.”

“Not for another couple of months, and I have business to attend to in the meantime.”

“I know you’re trying to save the world here,” he said seriously, placing a hand on Iggy’s tense shoulder, “but it’s okay to ask for help, too. Not gonna be able to help any of us, including Noct, if you get . . . hurt.”

Iggy reached up and grasped his shoulder for a second before stepping away. “I do appreciate your concern, but honestly, I have matters well in hand. We’re very nearly through this.”

“Thank Six,” Prompto sighed. Maybe Iggy could handle all this shit without Laura, but he wasn’t perfect, and Prompto would feel a lot better about him having someone he’d let help him at his side again. “Just . . . you know where to reach me if you need anything.”

He’d already turned toward the door, but he looked back at Prompto’s parting words, squinting a little as he inspected him carefully. “Do you know? I think I just might,” he said with a lighter smile and a wave. “Take care.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Prompto waited until he heard the rumble of the engine and rattling of the gate before he closed his eyes and released a sigh. Was it really his place to tear Gladio a new one? For the first time in his life, Prompto didn’t think Iggy had done a good enough job, so he pulled his back straight and marched past Cindy, out the door, and toward the diner, his bravado just as false as his cheer always was, but since when did that ever make a difference?

It was just as dim inside the diner as it was outside, with most of the lights and appliances off. No one came here for a fun meal anymore, more for a quick bite before heading back into the war zone. Tables and booths had been removed to make room for radio transceivers and crates filled with disaster relief supplies, but the stools at the counter that lined the outer ring of the restaurant were still there, which was where Gladio was plopped as he stared out toward the garage like that was gonna make Cindy fix the damn generator any faster.

Prompto quickly scanned the room and behind the counter to find that they were alone; Takka must’ve been in the back room canning the extra beans they’d gotten in a shipment the day before, so Prompto didn’t bother to lower his voice as he stumbled to a stop right behind Gladio.

“I think you’re acting like a shithead,” he said, his knees trembling but his voice steady. “Noct wouldn’t want you guys fighting like this, and what you just said to him back there? You gotta know how outta line you were. It’s not like he wouldn’t rather have Noct on the throne, and taunting him about Laura’s just fucked up, man.”

“We don’t got a fucking clue what Noct would want right now, cause Noct’s asleep in Gralea. Cause we left him behind with that fucking psycho.”

“Well, I know. They’ve been right about everything so far. Why can’t you just trust them that the food shortage is more important than the scourge right now?”

“It’s like Insomnia all over. They’re gettin’ stuck up in their towers, not seein’ the people getting killed or infected every gods damned day, not seein’ the sacrifice. Don’t even get me started on the quarantine.”

Prompto shuddered at the word, trying to push away the cold, creeping feeling crawling over his skin at the sound alone. “Have you seen it yourself?” he asked, already wishing he hadn’t.

Gladio let out a long breath and rubbed at his scalp with both hands, the movement making a sandy, gritty sound as his thick fingers flicked back the short strands. “Yeah. Had to turn in a few myself,” he muttered, closing his eyes. “I fucking hate hospitals.”

Prompto slid up onto the stool next to him, letting his legs dangle back and forth as he leaned in to bump Gladio’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. You okay there?”

“Yeah . . . we’re just . . . too much to do and not enough people. We could use you in the Guardians, but I know the shit you got goin’ on here’s vital, too.”

Prompto wanted so badly to share with someone how he wasn’t sleeping anymore, how he’d get up in the middle of the night to scribble notes about ideas for making the wind turbines more efficient on a pad by his bed, how he didn’t even recognize his own head space anymore. After so long on the road with the four of them, he hated admitting just how alone he felt out here in the sticks constantly trying to impress an unmovable Cindy. But one look at Gladio’s bloodshot eyes and sagging skin told him Gladio was no better off than Iggy. This was just how things were for them now, and bitching about it wasn’t gonna help anybody. They’d gone through hell on the road trip together and Prompto had managed to hold the mask to his face. Why should he stop now? He picked the lightest of his chores to talk about, hoping to cheer Gladio up a little.

“Got more to do now, too. You know Saracchian showed up with the other four? Got ‘em out back trying to grow mushrooms on their poo cause Iggy said we need more sources of vitamin D. Can you believe what it’s come to?” he laughed, and the chuckle that escaped Gladio’s lips was enough to tell him he’d done his job. He let his tone grow softer as he said, “What they do is vital, too. You’d see that if you weren’t so mad.”

“Yeah . . . listen, I gotta get going. Gonna go check on that generator and see how Cindy’s doin’,” he groaned as he slid out of his stool and tugged on the ends of his jacket. “Takin’ a couple a rooks out to Keycatrich to get those generators we saw in the mines last time.”

Prompto twisted his lips into a grimace, a little unsettled at the idea that both Iggy and Gladio would be out with rookies for the next couple of days. “You’ll be careful, right? Isn’t that mission kinda hard with the dark?”

They’d all noticed that Iggy always ran into way less trouble on missions than the rest of them because of his . . . ability or power or whatever. As a result, working in the dark had become part of their training—moving silently and trying to listen out for daemons while barely being able to see a damn thing in front of them. Seemed like no matter how hard they tried though, they could never work in the pitch black and Laura and Iggy could.

Which was what made going down into the mines such a dangerous plan. Turn the lights on? The daemon infestation was so bad now that they’d be surrounded immediately. Leave the lights off? Couldn’t see the hand in front of your face.

“Shouldn’t be a problem for these guys, actually. They’re both blind.”

“Whoa,” Prompto breathed, his eyebrows shooting up. “That’s . . ..”

“Yeah. Ig’s idea,” he admitted reluctantly. “They may be green, but they’re already better in the black than some of my best. Got ‘em teachin’ us all how to do that shit, cause what Ig’s managed to pass on to the Guardians hasn’t been much help.”

“Well, just be careful,” Prompto said hesitantly. “Call if you need, and . . . just think about cutting Iggy some slack.”

Prompto winced a little when Gladio’s relaxed expression tightened back into a scowl, but Prompto kept his gaze level, silently daring him to say something in his defense. They would’ve all died after the first year if it weren’t for Laura and Iggy, and the Council knew that. Why didn’t Gladio?

“I’ll let ya know. Gonna be headin’ out to Taelpar after this to get some info from Gilgamesh. Figured he’s been around the last couple thousand years. Probably knows the story and isn’t talkin’ like everyone else.”

“If you’re willing to stop by Perpetouss, we can do the missions together. Save some gas.”

“Cool,” he said, throwing a hand over his shoulder and turning toward the door.

Prompto waited until he’d stepped outside before turning to Takka’s counter with a wistful sigh.

He didn’t need to ask. Oatmeal with two teaspoons of brown sugar and a sprinkling of cinnamon.

***

Prompto worked in silence for the rest of the day, trying to figure out how he was gonna handle this thing with Iggy, Laura, and Gladio; worrying about Iggy and Gladio being out with rooks at the same time; lining up a schedule for all the stuff he had to do in the next couple of weeks.

And to think there was a time he used to be a clerk at a comic book store.

He needed to follow his own advice and take a break. Get away from Cindy for a little bit, have some fun, and re-evaluate what he was doing with her.

Noct woulda been good for that kinda thing.

Even Cindy had noticed his change in attitude, going silent herself when he didn’t offer up his usual cheerful affirmations at everything she said.

Things didn’t really start looking up until he heard the light, skipping thuds of boots on the pavement and looked up to see warm, brown eyes crinkling in delight down at him.

“So. You finish that design for that new silencer yet?” Penelope asked, tucking a short, dark curl behind her ear and smiling shyly.

Warmth seemed to trickle from his face down to his toes as he gave her a stupid lopsided grin despite his best efforts to act cool, but she didn’t seem to mind as she beamed back. That was totally a good sign, right? She was always so sweet to him—asking about his projects from the very first time she pulled up here in her Hunter’s truck looking to get some upgrades. She’d even inspired a couple of silencer designs he’d been working on lately.

Maybe . . ..

“Yeah! Just hoping to pick up some good scraps from this next base run,” he gushed, rushing to his workbench, sweeping aside the bulb parts, and grabbing his schematics underneath. “See? I think the design on these baffles here should knock the blast noise down a good chunk.”

“Oh, that would be so awesome! It’s harder for us gunners out there than anyone else, ya know?”

Watching her eyes light up as she studied the page, as the pinkest, most delicate blush spread across her cheek, he took a chance and offered, “If it’s all good when I test it out, I could make you one, too.”

“Oh sweet Six, really? That’d be amazing!” she gasped.

Something about that light in her eyes summoned the crystal-clear image of Iggy and Laura standing together in the middle of that hellhole Pitioss, looking so alive at one another. Was this what it had felt like for them?

Seeing Penelope smile like that made his chest feel light for the first time today—made him feel warm like the sun was really out in full force.

He should just go for it.

“S—” he began, but she’d already started speaking.

“S— Oh. Sorry, go ahead.”

“No! You go first.”

A shy, tender expression crossed her face as she gazed down at the schematics in his hands. “So . . . I was thinking, and I’m sorry if this sounds totally lame, or whatever, but, you wanna grab an early dinner at the diner before I head out?”

His attention snapped to a point just over her shoulder where Cindy stood, her arms crossed and a genuine smile spreading over her perfect mouth. She tipped the brim of her cap to him and winked, and even as it broke his heart, he returned the gesture, doing his best to make it look like he was winking at Penelope, too. But . . . he thought he was done having his heart broken . . . maybe? Maybe if he could throw himself into something with someone who actually liked him back, he could leave his grease monkey goddess behind and grow up.  

Yeah, the world was insane, and it was time to grow up.

“I can’t stay long; got a lotta work to do here, but yeah. I’d love to.”


	85. Chapter 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Rated M NSFW toward the end of this chapter

It wasn’t often Gladio left the house he, Iris, Talcott, Dustin, and Monica shared while wearing anything but his Crownsguard fatigues, but since he had a report due to the Council tomorrow, he was being pulled off the mission roster in order to stay in town to get it finished. Despite being promoted to general, Gladio refused to keep an office. Of course, he was still a little fuzzy on where he ranked in the grand scheme of things after Field-Marshal Cor had redone the ranking system to account for the combined forces of Glaive, Guard, Hunters, Niflian, Accordion, and Tenebraean units, but he knew where he was _supposed_ to be—where he was _expected_ to be—third in line to the throne and in charge of all of it. But there wasn’t enough space in town for his own office, and he was never much good itching at a desk and filling out paperwork. He figured the best way to avoid it was to claim he didn’t have the facilities and had better, more effective shit to do than writing papers like Iggy did all day.

Sometimes, it couldn’t be avoided, though. Since he’d been the only one able to wring some info outta Gilgamesh, that left him with the post-op report. It wasn’t like Prompto was gonna do it.

Damned bureaucrats. 

An entire morning wasted doing reports when he could’ve been out on the road making sure he didn’t lose any more good men and women—he’d grown restless at the idleness, so he collected his Libratablet and set out to find some lunch. Even though he was a big, badass motherfucker who should’ve stuck out like a sore thumb no matter what he was wearing, people seemed to look at him a little less as he strolled through the streets in his khakis, a hunter green leather jacket, and a black tank top. Was it really that easy to be forgotten?

He was already starting to get a little fuzzy on the details of some of the Glaives and Guards he’d lost in the last two years before they’d all joined Guardians, so he guessed he shouldn’t’ve been surprised. People were making an effort not to remember anyone these days. Don’t get attached, cause they might disappear. It seemed like no one remembered anymore that the house three doors down from them once belonged to an old man obsessed with collecting erasers, but that was before he was sent off to Quarantine and never heard from again. People just stopped existing the second there was no one left to remember them. Not even the Memorial Wall outside Council Headquarters was enough to guarantee a lasting memory.

And ESI or the UNE Council weren’t doing much to help the situation besides screaming about unity and making sure there was enough vitamin fucking D to go around.

It wasn’t like he was skirting his duty. He’d set up the farm on his family estate in Myrl and handed it over to Laura and Sania with a full team of the best Hunters he could get Ezma and Dave to spare. He taught self-defense and everything he’d learned about urban farming to the civs. And he was being run ragged with Guardian training, his own training, and the never-ending list of escort missions that needed his expertise. He’d worked with General Ezma, Colonel Dave, Fleet Admiral Ricci, and Cor to bring all the factions together under one banner and standardize two training regimens—one for magic and one for non-magic users.

But fucking Vyv and the court of media opinion didn’t get that he wasn’t ready to take his place at twenty-five as the High Commander of the only military in the entire world. He still had shit to learn from Cor, Ezma, Aranea . . . hell, even a Glaive or two could kick his ass, and he was starting to wonder if Gilgamesh hadn’t held back on him during the trial. He’d been sparring with the best of the best since he was a kid, with the best on the planet for a few months, so why wasn’t he better? Power wasn’t enough; he was starting to think it was down to experience.

‘Fear and doubt beget death alone’ kept playing over and over in his head. Gladio had made his peace with being the Shield of the King, with stepping out from behind his dad’s shadow and preparing himself to succeed and ultimately fail. Becoming a Shield of the people, however, was a whole ‘nother animal. No matter what he did, he was always gonna fail at that; he was reminded every time that fucking radio announced another dead Guardian, another dead citizen.

“Take this, brother,” a rough-looking dude with bulging blue eyes and wispy brown hair croaked, holding out a brochure and a piece of paper. Gladio didn’t stop to ask what it was but took the offered paper anyway with a quick nod of thanks. Most printed things these days were important enough to keep. “But don’t forget to recycle if you don’t keep it!” he called to Gladio’s retreating back.

He glanced down at the paper first, slowing his steps but still keeping his peripheral vision focused on the crowds of people nosing their way through the streets looking for lunch.

**Urgent Notice:**

**26 June 758**

**A Starscourge outbreak has been reported in the following outposts: Cauthess Depot, Old Lestallum, Lestallum. All incoming visitors to these locations must submit themselves for inspection and UV light treatment before they are allowed to enter. All those presenting with symptoms will be required to report to Quarantine. Entrance to all outposts will be at the sole discretion of the outpost UNE subcouncils.**

**Please keep our cities safe by knowing the stages of infection and reporting any suspected individuals to the Quarantine Division.**

**Thank you for your cooperation.**

Speaking of failures— _every_ dead subject of his king was his and Iggy’s responsibility, even if Gladio couldn’t do a thing about the scourge and even if Iggy wasn’t pulling his weight. Fucking ESI didn’t even know if that UV light shit would work, and with no one actively studying the thing, the number of the dead would continue to pile higher and higher on Gladio’s conscience.

Gladio scoffed and threw the top sheet directly in the recycling bin on the corner, where he knew it would hauled off to be pulped, reformed, and used on the next abominable announcement. He kept the brochure though, intending to read through it the second the crowds thinned out a little. The town had only gone off rations two weeks ago, but already, restaurants were starting to pop up again, with people cooking out of their kitchens and passing food through windows for patrons to eat out on the sidewalk. Surgate’s Beanmine, Tostwell Grill, and Tozus Counter . . . slowly but surely, Lestallum was starting to look a little like its old self again—as long as one didn’t walk too far down the main road to the guarded gates just past the gas station or at the tunnel entrance.

Because he wasn’t a xenophobic motherfucker like every hypocrite from every country in this world, he walked right past the Insomnian District without even looking to see what was on offer. Duscaean, Cleignese, Leiden, Accordion, and Tenebraean were all passed up as he left the older districts, crossed the main road, and entered the Pegglar Outlook District for some Niflian fare.

As with Laura, he hadn’t seen Aranea for going on two years now, since they’d gotten their load of refugees out of Niflheim and delivered them safe and sound to Lucis. But those days had been weighing heavy on his mind lately, and not just because he’d been hearing her name on the news more and more. He’d been craving this cassoulet dish made from his favorite anak meat that she’d once made for them all, and once he’d found a place that would make it like she did, he’d been stopping by there practically every day for the last week.

Aranea had been in town off and on since she’d gotten back from who the hell knew where last month. Gladio knew for a fact she was around today because the Council suddenly just _had_ to speak to her about something, but he’d had yet to see her since she’d returned from her secret mission.

She could come and find him if she was really interested.

As the crowds on the streets looking for a bite to eat got a little thinner, he opened the little tri-fold pamphlet and skimmed over the contents, looking for any new information.

**Starscourge Signs and Symptoms**

**First Stage:** Believed Noncontagious

Symptoms: sudden onset of odd thoughts, muscle spasms, abnormal postures, weakness, extreme sensitivity to bright lights/ sounds/ touch, increased production of saliva or tears, headaches

 **Second Stage:** Believed Contagious

Symptoms: irritability, aggressiveness, insomnia, confusion, hallucinations, seizures, difficulty speaking or remembering words, excessive movements or agitation, black pulsing patches of skin, bulging veins

Note that in late second stage, the hemorrhagic effect of waste products from the virus running its course through the body will cause veins to become more prominent, with this waste eventually leaking out of orifices. The onset of the third stage is swift and imminent at this point.

 **Third Stage:** Almost Certainly Contagious

Patient presents a clear and present danger to the population. Onset is sudden and unpredictable.

Symptoms: exuding black cloudlike substance known as miasma, violent tendencies, near-complete loss of self (varies per individual) before body disappears into the ground in a pool of miasma—leaving personal items behind. Any reappearance is in full daemon form.

**Quarantine Division requires that all individuals presenting with symptoms at any stage submit themselves to Quarantine for further treatment. Your cooperation is mandatory.**

As he suspected, not a single new piece of information. As much as he wanted to ball the brochure into his fist before lighting it on fire, he saved it for when he’d be passing by that dude again to give back to him.

All that sacrifice . . . and every day they didn’t devote their best and brightest to the scourge taking them all down was another day they were all spitting in the faces of those who’d died. Gladio couldn’t stand living that life.

He sure as hell wouldn’t be needing a copy of this; he knew the symptoms by heart now. It seemed to happen more often to the Hunters than the Glaives and Guards out in the field—the way they’d suddenly stop and tilt their heads at a charging daemon, and the rest of them knew. Confused by their own behavior and often in denial, they’d have to be watched carefully until they started drooling, and then it would be time.

Whether they were calm and accepting or shrieking in protest, Gladio wouldn’t shirk his duty there, either, submitting them to Quarantine and walking next to their gurney as far as he was allowed to go. Knowing exactly what was gonna happen and knowing _they_ knew exactly what was gonna happen—it never got any easier to basically be the one to pull the trigger on his own men and women. And it wasn’t just Guardians succumbing—the civs weren’t any safer.

The late nights, the fluorescent lighting, the stench of antiseptic—the whole thing reminded him way too much of when he was fifteen and his mom had cancer. That smell soaked into his clothes down to his bones, following him home like a ghost and lingering on the back of his tongue even after he’d leapt into the shower and scrubbed himself clean of it. The _only_ way to free the people of this torment was to find a cure—something he couldn’t do himself—and the helplessness was eating him alive.

He did everything he could—checking with Sania at least once a week only to find out once again that she was a fucking biologist and botanist at best, and what little progress she’d made wasn’t her fault. He went out of his way on every mission to collect whatever specimen she needed, took notes on daemon populations and migratory patterns, and kept an updated map for her on locations where nidus nests would often spawn.

And the only epidemiologist or anything like it they had on the planet was busy making sure they had enough rice, or whatever. He got that they were in it for the long haul and needed to have the food situation sorted, but fuck, it’d been over two years now. It wasn’t like she was out in the fields by herself; she had tons of people from Prissock, Furloch, and Fallstar Farms helping her out, so what the ever-living fuck was she doing the rest of the day? He didn’t think she was the type to sidle out of her responsibilities and leave the people to suffer, but after what had happened in Zegnautus, he wondered if he’d ever known just who that creature was. She wasn’t human, that was for sure, so she probably didn’t have the same sense of ownership over the fear of losing most of their population. Her moral compass had already proven to be pointing in a different direction than his, so he sure as hell couldn’t make any assumptions.

And Ig . . . well of course he was gonna side with his wife, wasn’t he? The guy needed a serious wakeup call, but it didn’t look like screaming at him was gonna make any difference. Gladio could only hope he’d pull his head out of his ass in time to see he’d been wrong. Iggy didn’t realize there was no point in saving Noct from his fate if the rest of humanity had perished. He just didn’t see the people dying every day—him or his wife—locked up in their government buildings and farms and whatever the hell secret projects they were concocting while they were rooting around in Solheimian ruins.

Then again . . . their little confrontation in Hammerhead three weeks ago had been making him think. Those two were always quiet when things got tough, and they’d never been quieter than now. ‘Power comes at a cost,’ he’d said, and Gladio had well remembered that day Laura had almost died healing and protecting little Iggy. Those words had frightened him more than he let on, but surely Iggy would’ve told them if she’d died? He wasn’t blind to all the shit Iggy was going through in his position, either—no matter how much Gladio disagreed with him. The idea had crossed Gladio’s mind to soften up a bit, maybe be a little more cooperative and influence Iggy with a carrot instead of a stick, but how was he supposed to bridge the gap after so long?

Having reached the secret street corner of the Niflian place that had opened up the day they went off rations, he walked up to the little shuttered window of the salmon-colored house, smirking a little when the blonde sitting at the sill gaped as he leaned in.

“Hello there.”

“Um . . ..”

His smirk widened into his boyish grin that always got ‘em flustered. “An _extra_ -large anak cassoulet, please,” he said with a wink.

When she looked away and bit her lip, her light blue eyes turning troubled, he thought he might’ve come on too strong, so he straightened and took a step back from the window.

“I . . . don’t think we have that on the menu,” she nearly whispered. “Sorry, it’s my first shift on my first day. I just started like, twenty minutes ago.”

“Nah, it’s all right. It’s not on the menu. It’s nine hundred gil, but you can ask ‘em back there if you want.”

“Uh . . . yeah, I better. Give me a sec?” She ducked her head, a pink blush spreading over her cheeks as she smiled before turning and rushing away, her thick hair bouncing in its spiracorn tail.

Even though he couldn’t see the kitchen through the archway leading to it, he could easily hear every word the cooks said as they screamed at each other over the sizzle of steaming hot pans.

“Fifth time today, we gotta add that. Yeah. Nine hundred. Hey! Don’t throw those carrot tops away!”

“Why? They’re fuckin’ nasty. Can’t make shit fit for the birds outta them,” another guy yelled back.

“Today’s Wednesday,” the first cook said.

Gladio had his money ready to hand off by the time she sat back down at her stool, another bashful smile spreading her pink lips wide.

“Take a seat wherever you like,” she said softly, passing a wide, shallow dish through the window.

Gladio let the steam waft up his nose—that comforting spicy, meaty scent already warming him even as the plate began to burn his fingers a little. Without breaking eye contact, he backed up to the rickety bistro table just behind him and leaned back comfortably into the shitty plastic chair they’d placed on the edge of the street corner.

“I think here has the prettiest view,” he said with a grin as he spooned up some beans and meat. He took a bite and chewed enthusiastically, moaning just a little in appreciation before he spoke again. “You new in town?”

“What’s Wednesday gotta do with anything?” the second cook asked.

“Yeah, just came in a month ago,” the girl said, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she tilted her head at him.

“Oh yeah? Maybe I could show ya around sometime.”

She wasn’t smiling when she ducked her head again and said, “Maybe.”

He took the hint and backed off. She’d obviously been flirted with enough to know a player when she saw one and wasn’t into that kinda thing, and he could respect that. For as much as he got around, he’d always kept it real with the ladies before shit went down—he didn’t belong to anyone. It was why Aranea was such a good . . ..

Shaking his head, he dug into his cassoulet, letting those heavy beans and anak meat sit heavy and comfortable in his stomach as the foreign spices warmed him up. It turned out Niflian food wasn’t as bad as he’d thought as long as it was homecooked. Between the cassoulet and the socca, he could probably eat here every day for the rest of his life. The fleeting thought that maybe Iggy could eat here and figure out the recipe for him flitted through his head before he shoved it aside. Gladio remembered Laura going nuts over the ratatouille and Iggy over the bouillabaisse when Aranea, Biggs, and Wedge had cooked for them all on the way back from Tenebrae, so he wondered why the hell they’d had to live through Paul’s cockatrice nuggets and canned peas before Iggy’d finally put his foot down.

“Cause if that skinny rat bastard’s in town, he’s gonna be all up in here, checking through the fucking trash after he caught the last guy throwing shit out. Save ‘em for another day, or better yet, throw ‘em out in the Insomnian District and sic him on them for a change,” the first cook said.

“That’s just cause Dr. Scientia’s on the ESI board in charge of food production,” a woman’s voice added. “Bet her bitchin’ about it day and night is all he hears. Driven him ‘round the bend, so we’ve got the King of Lucis, or whatever fake title he’s given himself, digging through the trashcans of honest, hardworking people.”

Gladio sat up a little at the mention of Laura’s name, frowning. He’d heard people talking shit about Iggy pretty much every day since they’d gotten back. It was just something that happened to people in charge. One of the first lessons he’d learned from his dad after his first fight at the private school he’d attended was that people were gonna judge and complain no matter what decisions were made, and it was best to keep his head down and carry on, because kicking everyone’s ass who said something terrible about his dad or the King was only gonna make the both of them look worse.

Funny enough, it wasn’t Ig’s leadership most people complained about. It was usually the age thing, Cor turning into his lapdog, or Iggy possibly having murdered Noct to take the throne for himself. Shit like that had died down over the past couple of years once they’d seen how fast things had gotten organized, but this was definitely the first time Gladio had heard any rumors about him and Laura as a couple. That girl was a damned master at staying under the radar so well that it seemed like most people forgot she existed most days.

Torn between wanting to hear what outsiders were thinking and wanting to leap through the window to demand they shut the fuck up, he sat in silence with his lunch, shoving the food down robotically so as not to waste it, but the formerly comforting meal was now sitting like a rock in his gut.

“I heard he’s not even real nobility. Born in the outskirts, which pretty much makes him a Cavaughian outlander pretending to be Insomnian. Worse than an actual Insomnian if you ask me.”

“And both his parents dead? It’s rather convenient that no one’s left to remember this Ustrina Scientia he’s claimed as his mother. Seems like everyone in that boy’s life came from nowhere. Don’t even get me started on his wife.”

“You really think she’s his wife? I thought he was . . . you know. With the way he dresses and acts and _looks_. I’ve even caught him in the main square with that Amicitia girl talking about fashion, of all things.”

The woman let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, he’s more crooked than a duplicorn horn, and not as a politician, either, if you know what I mean. Nobility’s all about producing heirs, and his bloodline has a legit claim to the Lucian throne now. Probably programmed from birth to marry and start breeding if he is who he says he is. So he married the first woman that looked like his precious princeling, but that marriage bed’s as cold as Shiva’s cunt, I guarantee you.”

“Can that really be true though? The locals who lived here when the retinue came through a few years ago said Dr. Scientia was really nice. And the Lord Protector . . .”

“No, she’s right. My brother works in Insomnian District. Rumor there has it Prince Noctis’s last birthday ball in the Citadel? Cameras caught ‘em behind a bush scrubbing at a white patch on the Prince’s robes. No way was that shit powdered sugar.”

“Yeah, and what about _the wife_? She came outta nowhere. No one knows where she’s from, and where the hell is she now? She’s practically the Queen, for Six’s sake, and no one’s seen her for years.”

“No title besides his, no background. Thought she was from Insomnia, but Insomnians say they have no idea what house she belongs to. She just appeared one day, sniffin’ around Regis, according to my brother. There was a rumor going around the whole city about them just before the Prince supposedly left.”

“Ahh, so she was after them Crown jewels, huh?”

“Seems like it. Got herself assigned to the retinue outta nowhere, probably to be close to the Prince.”

“Heh. Betcha she offed Lady Lunafreya herself to get a shot at him, but it backfired. Had to settle.”

“Got lucky though, didn’t she? Bed might be cold, but she’s sittin’ pretty at the feet of a royal seat on the Council if she can manage to spit out a kid for him.”

The only thing that had kept Gladio in his seat at this point was finishing the food that Iggy and Laura had worked hard to put on that table—even if he didn’t agree with the shit they were doing—because he wasn’t about to let _any_ kinda sacrifice go unacknowledged. He had to remind himself that these ungrateful bastards were made from the same cloth as the asshole he’d gotten his first scar from, and if he hadn’t been willing to hurt a Crown citizen then, he sure as fuck wasn’t gonna hurt a UNE citizen now, even if he really, really wanted to. No matter how many times he’d gotten the lecture from his dad, though, he’d never gotten used to this kinda thing as a kid—people taking their own views of the world and making stories up about nobles like they knew what their lives were all about.

He'd learned as he got older, however, that revenge could be subtler than a fist to the face. Besides never eating at this particular Niflian establishment again, he could use some of those political contacts he’d made friends with over the years to do some good. Coctura Arlund, who’d been responsible for writing and enforcing food waste practices across Lucis since Iggy’d told them all to start canning when they’d left Altissia, happened to be a good friend of his. As a huge supporter of both Iggy and Laura, Coctura’d have no problems whatsoever sending whoever she had based here in Lestallum to be all up in these people’s garbage no matter what day of the week it was. That could be one thing taken off Ig’s to-do list.

There was something else Gladio could do, too. That name of his that had often been the subject of badmouthing was also good for tossing around as a weapon, and no way in hell was he gonna sit idly by and let someone viciously attack his brother and sister’s personal life, no matter how pissed Gladio was at the both of them.  

Plastering a friendly expression on his face, he sauntered up to the window to hand the girl his bowl. None of this had been her fault, after all, and he didn’t see the point turning his attitude on her when she hadn’t said a word beyond taking the orders of the other customers who’d shown up while he’d been listening in.

“Tell ‘em Gladiolus Amicitia said thanks,” he said with a wink.

Without waiting for confirmation, he turned and headed back across the street toward the main thoroughfare. That report he’d intended to write at the table when he was finished eating was still nagging at him to be written, so he turned toward the square, hoping to convince Surgate to let him borrow a table if he wasn’t too busy. Just after the lunch rush—that meant Iris and Talcott would be out there, maybe even Monica and Dustin at dispatch if they weren’t out on a mission.

There were a few seats empty at Surgate’s now that the crowds were starting to die down as they headed back to work, so Gladio tossed him a few gil when he said yes to letting him borrow the table for a bit. Sitting down and pulling out his notes and tablet, he began typing, waiting for Iris or Talcott to notice him and come over to pull him away from this task he definitely had no interest doing.

It seemed like whatever deity or fate was in charge of this whole operation about keeping them all in the dark had finally gotten the word out to start talking a little, because when Gladio had returned to the Tempering Grounds—this time with Prompto, Mike, and Libertus—Gilgamesh had been a little chattier than last time. On hearing his story though, Gladio could see why he’d kept quiet all these years.

Gilgamesh fucking Amicitia—founding member of his house, apparently, which made them all related to someone pretty significant in this whole saga now. He was only waiting for confirmation that Prompto was not only the son of the giant electric shaver he’d killed back in Niflheim, but also a descendant to the original king of Solheim or some shit.

Little had Gladio known that the Amicitia line had been founded in disgrace from Gilgamesh’s failure in protecting his first charge from becoming a scourge-ridden psychopath and having to turn on him to save Somnus. He’d served out his life as Shield to the Founder King before sealing himself in the Tempering Grounds to offer the Chosen Shield his power when the time came. Of course, that Shield was definitely gonna be an Amicitia, because the bastard had also bound his line to House Caelum in order to fulfill his promise to Somnus when he’d failed the first time around.

The job was still Gladio’s honor, but fuck, he hated that he’d been doing it unknowingly as someone else’s penance all these years.

**20 June 758; 0800-0900 Hours**

  * _Left crew at entrance to Tempering Grounds and passed through Taelpar Crag. Encountered no resistance._
  * _Rendezvous with Gilgamesh on the Bridge of Swords approximately 0842H._
  * _Requested a full debriefing on the history of Ardyn and Somnus. Informed by Gilgamesh he would only tell that which would bring glory to his king. Subject bias suspected._



**Gilgamesh Debrief**

_Somnus Izunia: Aged 30_

_Ardyn Izunia: Aged 33_

_Gods and lower lords left of the fallen Solheim seek to select a new ruler from men. Nobles of House Izunia tasked by the gods to rid the scourge with the promise of becoming King—either Somnus (Power of Draconian) or Ardyn (Power of the Blessed Star, more potent than Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret). Given the title and surname Lucis Caelum, a Shield (Gilgamesh), and an Oracle to communicate with gods (no healing, Power of the Zephyrnian). Gods gift the Crystal to Caelum line to protect as a source of light to humanity._

_No mention of Crystal as Eos’s womb._

_Ardyn enters into arranged marriage with Oracle; believed to be the one named King. Can only heal one at a time. Scourge spreads faster than he can keep up, so Somnus and Gilgamesh institute slash and burn campaign as more effective means. People are divided as tension between brothers rises. Somnus suspects brother’s suffering and attempts to call him back home. Somnus appeals to Oracle, who agrees to the possibility of Ardyn’s turning and sides with Somnus._

_Ardyn loses control, reveals his corruption, and kills Oracle. Somnus has him crucified publicly— imprisoned in Angelgard when he doesn’t die and struck from the history books._

_The scourge is dormant—burned away by Somnus. (Suspect full info not given, as discrepancies exist between Cosmogony’s tale of the First Oracle and Gilgamesh’s report.)_

_Somnus is officially named King by Bahamut. Messengers give Somnus the Ring to channel the Crystal’s powers and begin an ancestral memory, the Crystal to protect, the Prophecy to pass on. Ardyn escapes after Somnus’s death and presumed to have been hiding in Niflheim._

“You should’ve seen it!” a high-pitched voice broke through over the dull roar of the still-busy square, pulling Gladio out of his work. Thank Bahamut’s blue balls. “It was completely dark out. I couldn’t even see my own dagger in my hand! We heard this hissing sound, and all the sudden, _whoosh_! His daggers caught on fire, and he was moving so fast I could barely keep my eyes on him!”

Chuckling to himself, Gladio shook his head and looked up to find the source of the commotion—seven Guardians all standing in a circle around Talcott with their gear and their weapons slung to their belts as he regaled them all with the tale of their King Regent single-handedly taking out a Nagarani. He’d told the story of his first mission a thousand times—his still childlike voice rising in excitement each time he retold the story of his new hero. The Guardians had all indulged the kid, adopting him as their town crier as he stood in the middle of Lestallum’s busiest square and passed news to anyone who would stop and listen.

Gladio didn’t know how he felt about the fact that at ten years old, Talcott was already more experienced in combat than Gladio had been at twenty-three. Fuck, they’d been so sheltered and unprepared for what had been coming.

But as Gladio’s eyes slid across the square to Iris’s booth and spotted her subdued smile, he realized he hadn’t been handling _all_ his responsibilities as well as he should’ve. Their eyes met when she turned in his direction, her smile growing more genuine as she skipped across the square and perched on the edge of the chair across from him.

“Hey, Gladdy! I didn’t know you were staying in town today. What’re you doing here?”

“Stupid stuff,” he grumbled, pointing down at his Libratablet on the table.

To his relief, she giggled. “Good. That kinda stuff’s good for you, you know?”

Gladio wondered if that girl knew how much she reminded him of their parents sometimes. Practically identical to their mom physically, cheerful and bubbly and sweet, but when push came to shove, she was as tough as nails—an Amicitia through and through in a way he never could be. She was the embodiment of their family motto: Suck it up and get the job done.

Gladio had to admit he was partially relieved when Cor had held her back; he’d wanted her to be able to fight, not go join them on the front lines. But instead of pitching a hissy fit like she used to as a kid, she’d marched right out of Cor’s office and found another path to getting her own way. She’d begged Gladio, and he suspected Laura, to train her, and he’d complied happily because any Amicitia walking around in the world needed to be able to bite back as a matter of family honor.

And then she became a darling to the people of the United Nations of Eos—teaching the younger kids history to help Trina out, making and selling clothes to raise money for charity, and taking some kinda archaeology lessons from Iggy.

He’d been meaning to go to Cor, appeal on her behalf, and maybe let her go on some of the easier missions, but he’d been too wrapped up in his own shit lately to realize how much this Talcott thing was probably getting to her.

“How ya been, kiddo?” he asked with a grin.

“Same as I was this morning, freak,” she smiled back with sparkling brown eyes, which warmed his heart to see in times like this. “Sales are doing pretty good today, and Commodore . . . I mean, Air-Marshal Aranea herself stopped by and told me my donations helped find homes for ten Niflian families last month!”

“Huh, so Aranea’s in town today, is she?” he asked casually.

“Yeah, she had some top-secret meeting with the Council today, so of course everyone’s talking about it.”  She stopped suddenly, leaning forward as she smiled slyly at him. “Why? Are you pumping me for info? Hot-shot general like you should know this already.”

“I do. Just gotta keep in touch with what the people know.”

She let out a bratty little huff that reminded him so strongly of what kind of girl she used to be before all this happened that he had to cover his mouth to hide his chuckle.

“When are you finally gonna admit you’ve got a crush?”

“No, it’s just . . . she’s kinda like the head of the entire air group, and as a general of the standing army, I’m probably gonna have to spend even _more_ time in pointless meetings if she calls any.”

“Gladiolus Amicitia, you’re such a liar!” she screeched, standing to slap him on the arm. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Am not! Anyway, you feel like cuttin’ out early? I feel like hittin’ something, and I figure it might as well be you.”

Her face fell as she turned her head back to her booth, biting her lip. “I can’t,” she said softly. “The Guardians come back from their missions early afternoon. It’s the best time to sell.”

“Hey, no sweat, kid,” he said, reaching out to ruffle her hair a little as he stood. She scoffed and whined a little, trying her best to fix it as he gathered his things. “Should be in town still tomorrow. Usual time?”

“You bet, little bro,” she laughed, adding a little dance to her step as she headed back to her booth.

At least he’d done something good today.

***

A bead of salty sweat dripped from the corner of his eyebrow and curved right into his eye, but he ignored the sting as he lunged forward again, pushing the weighted dummy back on its track several feet before shifting his weight to swipe the damn thing with his foot for good measure. He caught the edge of the padded fake head with his toes, sending it flying to smack against the high, barred windows of the Guardian training house.

Something prickled at his instinct, making the hair on the back of his neck tingle as the air behind him seemed to shift. He whirled without warning or thought, his fist swinging to connect with whatever had dared to sneak up on him like this. No way could it have been a Guardian; even a new recruit wouldn’t’ve been that stupid. But his momentum followed through as his knuckles hit nothing but air.

He realized his mistake when something collided against the side of his ankle, bruising the bone as it kicked both his feet out from under him. Cold mythril solidified in his palm on instinct as his back hit the mat and he prepared to roll, but it fell limp at his side when he saw what, or who, was looking down at him, a triumphant smirk on her lips and her green eyes glittering with mischief.

“Well . . . looks like someone’s losing his edge,” Aranea drawled, taking a casual step forward to loom over him. “Time was you would’ve caught me before I could strike—even if you wouldn’t’ve been able to actually _do_ anything about it. You distracted or somethin’?”

“Where the fuck have you been?” he demanded, inwardly wincing at how frog-like his voice sounded.

“Running back and forth between here and Niflheim. I’ve been dropping off animal specimens for cold storage in Verstael’s labs and bringing back any refugees I can find.”  Placing a high-heeled boot in the middle of his chest and leaning low over him, she let her voice drop to a threatening growl. “But you’d know that if you hadn’t had your head up your ass for the last two years.”

He let his attention wander up the curve of her calf and the enticing shape of her thigh encased in those tight black leather pants, grinning wickedly and raising an eyebrow at the gold, black, and ruby airship emblem dangling from the zipper between her breasts.

“Plenty of other places my head coulda been, I agree.”

His hands shot out to catch both ankles as he shoved them forward, sending her tumbling chest-first on top of him with a grunt from the both of them. Ignoring the pain of the impact, he let his fingers roam down to her hips as she moved to straddle him, but she snatched them away, leaning forward as she pinned them against the floor above his head.  

Yeah, he could’ve thrown her off him, but she looked so gods damned hot over him like this. If he leaned up a little, he could take that emblem between his teeth and yank it down just far enough to bury his nose between her soft, creamy breasts.

“You’re an idiot for letting this go on so long. I came here to beat some sense into you,” she said, pushing down in frustration on his wrists. But she closed her eyes as she felt him twitch between her legs, her pale-pink eyeshadow highlighting the contrast of her dusky pink lips and the smattering of freckles over her nose and alabaster cheeks.

“You could beat some sense into me, if you want,” he murmured warmly, and even though his words were meant to be a double entendre . . . barely, he meant them as a compliment of her combat prowess, too. With any luck, flattery would get him everywhere this afternoon.

The pressure on his wrists lifted and transferred almost immediately to his jaw as she swooped down to smash her mouth against his, prying his unprotesting lips open and twisting her tongue with his in a no-holds-barred duel.  

“Six, you’re an asshole,” she let out on a sigh when she pulled back with a wet smack of her lips, but the way her hips flexed subtly against his rigid cock told him he could play his cards right and at least get her to fuck her frustration out of him. “I don’t even know why I came here.”

“Can’t get enough of me.”

And he couldn’t get enough of her, if he was being honest. Talented as fuck on the field and in the sack, capable of tearing the balls off a behemoth with her bare hands, and yet he got the feeling that she liked it when he held her all safe and small in his arms after round two was over and they were both covered in sweat. He loved the way she wasn’t afraid to get a little down and dirty, riding him hard and fast for her pleasure as her gray hair grew heavy with perspiration and his fingers grew numb from dancing over her clit.

And he loved the way she knew the score without having to ask—his ass belonged to Noct until this was over, so he wasn’t committing shit to anyone until this was done . . . and maybe not even then.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she ground out, clenching her teeth as she rocked against him.

“You locked the door, right?”

“It’s not that, it’s . . .”

“Spit it out.”

“It’s President Cassius. He’s infected.”

“Fuck.”

Nifs didn’t take up much of the population after everything Iedolas and Ardyn had put them through. It’d been hard enough finding a decent politician willing to represent what was left of their broken empire, and even then, Niflians had opted for democracy instead of imperial rule and named him President. Gladio didn’t wanna know how they’d managed to find reps in the subcouncils at the outposts. Even in the Guardians, their command representation was unbalanced, with Brigadier General Loqi and Aranea the last of the upper tiers of command. But if she was telling him this . . ..

“They’re asking you.”

“They’re giving me a week to decide while I do one more run to Ueltham to drop off some mandrakes for cryo. I leave in an hour, and he’s submitting himself to Quarantine tomorrow.”

He rested his hands on her hips, just beneath the hem of her coat, and stroked at the smooth leather. “You know what you’re gonna tell ‘em yet?”

She shook her head. “Politics ain’t my thing. I’m better in the field where I can help. But if I’m needed . . ..” 

“Loqi wouldn’t be able to handle it. He’s still . . .”

“An idiot,” she finished, looking at him significantly.  

They both flinched a little when the strident tones of his phone beeping sounded from his pocket. Aranea looked down and lifted her thigh, sliding two fingers into his pants to pluck it out and hand it to him. Whoever it was, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with their shit right now, but one look at the caller ID had up flinging the phone to his face.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

It’d been over two years since he’d seen this number flash across his screen. For as much as they technically needed to communicate as head of state and pseudo head of military, Iggy was a master at managing it without direct contact. But if he was calling now, something had to be very, very wrong.

“Gladio,” Iggy panted. “I . . . need your help.”

“Where are you? Who’s with you? How bad are you hurt?”

Thankfully, he didn’t have to ask as Aranea stood up off of him and offered a hand to help pull him up.

“Under the self-repairing bridge in Steyliff. It doesn’t appear to be in the mood to repair itself this afternoon.” He paused to gasp, and Gladio wildly wondered why they hadn’t yet invented the ability to crawl through the gods damned phone lines. “I’m mostly all right, but my leg. I think it’s broken.”

“And you’re alone, aren’t you? You fucking moron! Can you defend yourself?”

Another beat of silence and static passed over the line as Gladio’s pulse pounded uncomfortably in his neck before Iggy managed to grind out, “In a sense, yes.”

“Don’t got anyone up that way at the moment. I’ll be there soon as I can.”

“I understand . . . I . . .  thank you.”

“Don’t gotta thank me for this. Hang tight.”

Stowing his phone away, he shoved a little at Aranea’s shoulder, encouraging her to follow as he headed toward the supply room. A bag, some rope, water, rations, the biggest first-aid kit he could find—he wasn’t really looking at what all he was grabbing as he shoved everything inside. Gods damn, but he missed having access to the full armiger at a time like this so he wouldn’t have to waste his time doing stupid shit like packing a bag when Iggy could be dying.

“You think you can have your ship loaded in fifteen and drop me off at Steyliff before your mission?”

“I can’t stay and help. Those cryo tubes are only good for so long in transport. How’re you planning to get yourselves back?”

“Kaze and Calima will come if we whistle for ‘em. Just gotta call Hammerhead and have ‘em saddled up.”

“Meet me on the main road in ten, then.”


	86. Chapter 86

One look at the thick, black layer of malboro mist settling like a cloud over the dark water, and Gladio could tell why it’d been over two years since any human had been up this way. With Galdin Quay finally back online to handle shipments of supplies to Accordo, he knew Iggy and Holly had only put this region next on the list to restore in order to get the nearby Myrl Estate connected to the grid before the runes wore off and the farm was overrun by daemons. Remembering how difficult it had been just to kill _one_ malboro, he didn’t envy the poor fuckers that were gonna have one helluva time reclaiming this area.

Luck was with him as he followed the dirt path, sloshed through the swamps, and hauled himself up the overgrown stone steps, since he’d forgotten about Solheim’s obsession with being closed during the day to recharge and opening up at night. But it was fortunate for Iggy’s life and Gladio’s sanity that it was dark more hours of the day than it was light these days. Even though it wasn’t quite four o’ clock in the afternoon yet, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, shading the murky, flat-orange sky a sickly sort of purple.

He hoped it was the twilight hours that were holding the door mostly in place as he pressed himself up against the crumbling geometrical column and squeezed his meaty frame in the crack between the door and the wall. It’d been far too long for Iggy to take a potion for his broken leg, and it sure as hell was gonna suck trying to get him out the door if it was still mostly closed.

One thing at a time. He had to find Iggy first, and he didn’t want to call and make his phone ring if he was lying helpless and silent in the middle of a pack of liches.  

His tactics were pretty much non-existent as he strode boldly through the dark hallways faintly lit with flickering strips of reddish light—like in Costlemark, but dimmer and less steady. Though Aranea had drawn him a map to lead him directly to the spot Iggy said he’d be, Gladio still wished she could’ve come with him. Precious seconds were slipping by as he kept stopping to recheck that he’d gone the right way or to cock his head to the side each time he thought he’d heard a daemon. But he didn’t meet any resistance as he drew closer to where she’d indicated this self-repairing bridge was, and he figured Ig must’ve cleared the place out before he’d gotten hurt.

Piles of crushed stone littering the floor slowed his progress on his first step into the room Iggy should’ve been in, but a whispering groan just barely rose over the sound of his boots crunching over the gravel and made him freeze.

“Iggy?” he whispered, the softest utterance he could manage, but it still seemed to slam itself against the wall and ricochet up to the ceiling. He held his breath, hoping Iggy was still conscious enough to answer.

“Gladio,” Iggy groaned from about thirty yards away.

Gladio threw himself in that direction, scrambling over the larger chunks of masonry and tripping a little as the smaller rocks rolled under his feet. He took a chance as he drew closer and flipped his travel light on, immediately illuminating Iggy’s hair, dark and dripping with sweat, and the rise and fall of his heaving chest. Dropping to his knees by Iggy’s side, he did his best to disconnect from the situation and let his field medic training take over to assess the patient’s status.

The chunk of stone railing lying across Iggy’s left leg was about two and a half feet long and a foot wide, and judging by the jagged edges of the bridge hovering over their heads, it had fallen on him from about twelve feet up. So his leg wasn’t broken so much as shattered, and Gladio wondered just what the hell this man was made of that he wasn’t screaming bloody murder or passed out by now.

“Gonna check the lower leg, okay?” he said gently, scooting to where Iggy’s calf was sticking out from the other side of the rail. Ignis didn’t answer so much as suck in a deep breath and nod.

Unsurprisingly, Iggy growled through his teeth as Gladio carefully lifted the edge of his pant leg and shined his light up his shin, and Gladio himself cursed under his breath when he discovered the black, swollen skin stretched tight above his strained sock line. His attention shot to Iggy’s face—taking note of the bloodshot eyes and the constant shiver passing over his skin despite being covered in sweat.

Gladio reached out a hand to his wet neck, feeling not only the burning skin beneath his fingertips but the leaping, stuttering heartbeat.

“How long?”

“About an hour.”

“Gods damn, Iggy,” he breathed. “You’ve got crush syndrome; I guarantee it. I can’t pull this thing off you until I amputate your leg . . . unless you wanna lose your kidneys too.”

“I hardly think _that’s_ necessary,” he blew out on a sharp breath. “I managed to tie a tourniquet around my thigh before you got here, and I still have some hi-potions in my part of the armiger.”

“I’m not stupid, Ig. It’s been too long for a potion to work right.” He sat back on his haunches and ran a hand through his hair, staring down at the man who’d become his responsibility. “You shouldn’t even be _conscious_ right now, let alone talking to me.”

Gritting his teeth, Iggy squeezed his eyes shut. “Let’s just say I currently have a lot of support keeping me coherent at the moment. As to the potion, my own power can handle the rest.”

And here was the mystic shit again—laying life and death on information Gladio couldn’t see, hear, touch, or even fathom. Laura was obviously nowhere nearby, or she would’ve come teleporting in from Myrl by now to practically kill herself to save him. Iggy’d been learning some advanced healcasting by the time they’d reached Gralea, but as far as Gladio knew, his magic hadn’t been anything beyond what the Glaives could do, which was pretty much like hardcasting a potion.

“Gladio,” Iggy chastised at seeing his hesitation, “for once in your life, trust that I know what I’m doing, even if you don’t.”

He stood, reluctantly placing his feet on either side of Iggy’s injured leg and bending to grip the edges of the railing. “I don’t need to remind you that this is your life, man. If you’re being a stubborn ass and risking it so we don’t have to cut your leg off—”

“Gladio.”

“Fine,” he growled, his fingers tightening around the smooth surface worn with time and the rough edges of the recent break. He glanced at Iggy, who’d summoned a hi-potion to his hand with a tinkle of phosphorescent petals. “You ready?”

Had he imagined the slightest breathy whimper before Iggy nodded? Without another word, he bent his knees and stood, a roaring growl of effort escaping his throat as he heaved the chunk straight upward before slinging it off to the side. Over the deep, resounding crack of masonry hitting the wall, Iggy’s bellowing scream through gritted teeth resonated in Gladio’s chest, and he dropped to his knees again by Iggy’s side, examining his still pale, sweaty face glittering with the fading green sparkles of a hi-potion.

“Well?”

“Stars, it’s worse,” he groaned softly as he struggled to sit up.

“Hey, you shouldn’t be trying to sit up right now. We’re gonna have to cut that leg off before your kidneys start failing.”

“A moment,” Iggy snapped as he managed to get a hand beneath him to prop himself up. As Gladio looked up to inspect the surrounding area for daemons he was sure were gonna manifest at all this racket they were making, Iggy added, “You needn’t worry about them. I took care of the matter on my way in.”

Gladio sat back again, wondering what he was telling Laura right now—how much he _wasn’t_ telling Laura right now. “So are you and Laura gonna pull of some weird thing now? Why didn’t you call her in the first place?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, placing careful fingers over his thigh and closing his eyes. Before Gladio could argue at the non-answer, Iggy took a deep breath, parted his lips, and began to sing.

Which wasn’t even close to what Gladio had been expecting him to do. He’d never heard Iggy sing before, but he guessed he shouldn’t’ve been surprised to find out he was good at it like he was everything else. As he wrapped his lips somewhat awkwardly around the foreign sounds Laura must’ve been feeding him, his soft baritone only quivered a fraction of what Gladio would’ve expected, considering the agony he must’ve been in right now. That green light he’d seen pouring from Iggy’s fingertips a thousand times was different this time—tinged with a silver shimmer and held back to build as the song continued.

The moment Gladio ducked his head to shield his eyes from the blinding green light, Iggy’s voice faded beneath a swell of wind, and he looked back just in time to catch Iggy’s head before it crashed onto the stone floor behind him.

“Ig?” Gladio whispered harshly, but he didn’t open his eyes.

He scrabbled at Iggy’s collar, feeling for the strong, steady heartbeat pulsing against his gritty, sweaty neck. At least one symptom had been taken care of, but he was still too pale. Who the hell knew just how thorough a job that magic had done? After releasing Iggy’s belt buckled tightly around his upper thigh, Gladio pulled back Iggy’s dust-covered and torn pant leg again, this time to find the skin of his calf returned to its normal, healthy color.

But the unconsciousness figured. The asshole had probably overexerted himself just like his wife was always doing.

“You _and_ your wife are fucking nutcases; I hope you know that,” Gladio muttered, bending to scoop the surprisingly solid man into his arms. “But damn, you’re a lot heavier than she is—shit.”

There was something about the way Iggy’s head lolled back in his arms—the slack expression on his typically guarded features, his parted lips, his eyes closed, the cords of his throat so exposed—the image of that identical expression blinked in his head as those soldiers had carried him off the altar. Altissia wasn’t the first time Iggy had almost gotten killed doing his job when he hadn’t been there to do it himself. Iggy, Laura, and Noct had all almost lost their lives that day because of his failure, and it seemed like no matter what he’d done since, including his lowest moment when Noct got sucked into the Crystal, he hadn’t had the chance to prove himself, to find that inner peace he’d discovered with Gilgamesh.

And if he couldn’t keep his four closest friends safe, how was he supposed to do the same for the people?

What was it about Iggy that had made him step up so resolutely the second he’d gotten back? Looking down at him now, it was all too easy to see he was just a man. He might’ve been a fucking genius and powerful beyond Gladio’s understanding, but he bled, he failed, he needed help sometimes . . . and the same went with Laura. What kinda inner power did they possess that Gladio didn’t that made them so gods damned capable all the time?

Even though Iggy had reassured him the place was cleared out until the damn things decided to respawn, Gladio kept his eyes on the swivel as he picked his way back to the entrance as best he could with his heavy load, pausing only long enough to shift his hold. He about collapsed in defeat once he’d hauled the two of them to the top of the four hundred fucking flights of steps to find the door still mostly shut despite the black sky beyond.

It’d be a tight fit, but the opening was big enough to squeeze his shoulders through . . . maybe?

“Better not be tellin’ Laura I’m giving you a froggy-back ride like we’re six years old right now,” Gladio grumbled. Using the wall to help him shift Iggy’s dead weight to his back, he grasped Iggy’s wrists over his shoulders just long enough wedge the both of them through the small space. Relief flooded him as he staggered out to the landing beyond, dropping one of Iggy’s wrists before turning to carefully lower him to the ground.

He plopped down on the steps next to a propped-up Iggy to catch his breath and ease the fire in his arms and the backs of his thighs. It was gonna be another eighteen hours or so before it was light enough to travel again. Iggy needed medical attention right this second, but what choice did he have? Kaze couldn’t carry two, and it would take Gladio a week to walk beside Kaze and fight his way back to the closest civilization—which was Lestallum. He could only hope the runes at the nearby haven would be strong enough to keep them safe for the night while he did his best to monitor Iggy for signs of renal failure.

But he needed to get them there in one piece first.

When they reached the base of the stairs that led into the swampy, flooded courtyard, Gladio propped Iggy’s body between a column and a wall—the most defendable position in the area—before pulling out his chocobo whistle, gripping it between his lips, and blowing as softly as he could manage.

The concept of renting a chocobo was a thing of the past ever since the power grid had gone down and they’d lost Wiz’s post to a couple of behemoths two days later. Three Glaives and four Hunters had been killed in the attack that day, and Wiz had been lucky to escape with his own life, even though it had about killed him to leave his birds behind. For days, Gladio would whistle for Kaze, positive one of his remaining best friends had been killed in the destruction and doing his best not to show just how much losing a damn bird had affected him. But then they’d shown up one day outta nowhere outside Lestallum—bedraggled, drained of magic, and starving—thirty of them led by that crazy-ass black bird of Laura’s. Once they’d been nursed back to health and their magic had been restored, they found that all bonded chocobos would come when called without a rental.

It’d taken some time to find a place to keep them all between Cauthess Depot and Old Lestallum, but their five only seemed to be willing to put up with their new home in Cauthess for a couple of years before running away to Hammerhead to be with Prompto. Gladio had called Hammerhead ahead of time to ask Cindy to get Kaze and Calima saddled up, only to find that Calima was still out from when Iggy had called her the night before.

As the high, shrill tone faded from the cold night air, five birds dropped from the sky in front of him with soft coos and splashes, instead of the one he’d been expecting, but Gladio wasn’t about to question his luck. He could already hear the whispering rush of daemons just beyond the light from his travel lamp, so he didn’t waste a second in bending to pick up Iggy and toss his dead weight over Calima’s saddle.

“Gonna have to be careful with him, girl,” he murmured as he pulled Kaze closer and swung up onto his back.

Leaning over to place a hand on Iggy, he guided the two birds at a gentle trot through the shallow, black waters of the grove’s entrance and toward the haven—the other three following silently behind. What the hell was going on? Not that he wasn’t grateful for the extra company, but every time he’d whistled for Kaze in the past, only Kaze had come. Were they in so much danger that some animal instinct had summoned the five of them? This could’ve been Laura’s doing, wherever she was, since she seemed to possess some kinda animal magic.

Their little flock had made it no more than a few steps onto the path beyond the grove when a flash of white flitted across his beam—a skeleton . . . fuck Ifrit. Nudging Kaze to pick up the pace a little, he prayed to whoever the hell was listening right now that there wouldn’t be a pack of these things like there usually were.

“Shit!” he yelped in surprised when one of the bastards leapt onto his thigh. Keeping a hand on Iggy’s back, he dropped Kaze’s reins long enough to wrap his fingers around the daemon’s neck and jerk it, snapping the vertebrae. As it fell limp to the dirt behind them, another streak of white flashed across his peripheral vision, this time on Iggy’s side. There was nothing for it; he’d have to hop off and fight his way to the haven.

Gladio had just removed his hand from Iggy’s back to summon his blade and leap off Kaze when a wall of glossy black feathers snatched the flying skeleton out of the air with a soft shriek and snapping beak.

“Gods damn, you’re a good bird,” Gladio sighed as Saracchian spread his wings and lunged again, reaching out to snap the skeleton’s spine in two. But he’d gotten distracted by the commotion and hadn’t noticed an additional two daemons—one flying toward Kaze’s face and another toward his side—moving in for an attack. A flurry of scarlet and gold feathers blocked out his view as Sunny and Byrrus cleared their path of snarling bones.

It took them a good forty-five minutes to make it the quarter of a mile to Capitis haven, with Saracchian, Sunny, and Byrrus snapping, leaping, and clawing at the hordes of skeletons and crème brûlée that haunted their every step. Desperate to avoid the billowing black smog and noxious fumes emanating from the wild malboros that had taken up residence in the Vesperpool, he led the flock in a wide arc away from the water’s edge, probably tripling the length of their journey.

A part of him was terrified the runes wouldn’t work when they finally stepped onto the glowing stone, but the supernatural writing seemed to brighten a little at their presence as their snarling and spitting company halted just outside the halo of light. Gladio dismounted immediately, rushing to Iggy’s side to pull his unconscious body off Calima. He had nothing, of course—no access to a single piece of camping equipment to get Iggy comfortable. So he did the best he could, sitting Iggy up against Calima’s soft, warm feathers once she had settled and encouraging the others to meatloaf in a circle around them, forming a little haven of warmth against the cold night.

Saracchian and Calima were especially attentive as Gladio crouched down at Iggy’s side to check him over—nuzzling carefully at Ignis’s chest, cooing softly, and releasing little bursts of sparkling teal magic that he inhaled with every breath. He’d heard Wiz describe the phenomenon a little differently—more like a dance a chocobo did when they wanted to help their bonded partner recover more quickly—but he wasn’t gonna turn away any extra help he could get, no matter how weird it was.

“Seriously, is anything about you guys normal?” Gladio muttered as he dug through his bag for the first-aid kit.

But he fell silent as he got to work—feeling Iggy’s leg and thigh for consistent temperature and a steady pulse, looking the leg over for swelling and range of movement, and checking his blood pressure. There was just so much that could go wrong with crush syndrome, and only so much he could do to intervene out here in the field with limited tools. It was gonna be a long night—checking Iggy’s heart for signs something was going wrong.

But he realized that something had already gone wrong as he undid the top two buttons of Iggy’s dust and grit-covered Crownsguard shirt and that flash of blue and silver caught his eye. An icy fist seemed to close around his chest at the sight. Far too much of this evening was reminding him of Altissia. 

“Shit,” he said under his breath, shaking Iggy’s shoulder gently. “Come on, man, wake up.”

How long had she been gone? The entire two years? Was she coming back? Just how fucked were they, and how long had they been keeping this a secret?

Saracchian leaned in again, exhaling another cloud of sparkling teal the moment Iggy breathed in through his nose. He gasped softly, his lashes fluttering open as he leaned forward to cough up the thick air laced with magic. Gladio laid a heavy hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling over as he sucked in a deep breath, but the inhalation suddenly morphed into a gasp as he shot upright.

“Prompto. Is Prompto all right?”

Gladio stared down at him, tilting his head first to one side, then the other to check Iggy’s scalp for injuries. He would’ve jumped to his feet, thinking Prompto had been left back in Steyliff, but he knew exactly where Prompto was and wasn’t at all worried about him.

“Prompto’s fine. Are _you_ okay?”

“Then why did he not answer his phone when I called? He was there when I asked him to saddle up Calima.”

“He’s on a date. Took her to Norduscaean Garrison to search for tech and assess how hard it’ll be to get it reconnected.”

“Miss Penelope, I presume? How terribly romantic.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Getting on those havens in the unpowered areas alone at night? Let’s just say there’s nothing quite like fucking the fear of death away.”

“It’s good to see him moving on from Miss Cindy. I was beginning to grow concerned for him,” Iggy said, his voice growing softer as he stared down at his boots.

It’d taken him a few seconds to figure out Iggy had done that thing he did to lead people away from what they really wanted to know, but now that Gladio remembered who it was he was talking to and how they’d gotten to discussing Prompto and Penelope, of all people, it was high time to cut through the shit and get the upper hand in this conversation.

“Ig.”

“Mmm?”

“Why’re you alone? Where’s Laura?”

Saracchian let out a soft coo in the back of his throat at the sound of Laura’s name, stretching his neck out to rest in Iggy’s lap. Iggy looked away shiftily and ran his hand through Saracchian’s crest as he spoke, “A thousand reasons. I needed to inspect the Solheimian ruins before the sun grew too weak to recharge them, and it was a good thing I did, as you’ve seen the bridge, door, and lighting are already growing weak. Ardyn missions are sensitive, as you well know. This was too difficult for the others, and they only would have slowed me down.”

The Ardyn part he could understand, but that didn’t explain why he hadn’t called on Laura, Prompto—hell, even him to go with him on this mission.

“And it’s was fortunate I was checking, even if I haven’t found anything pertaining to what I was looking for. I encountered signs of recent entry in both Costlemark and Steyliff,” Iggy continued, probably to keep Gladio from asking the question he wanted to hear the answer to most—again. But his eyes turned dark and serious as they narrowed down at Saracchian’s head. “It’s him, I know it.”

This was the kinda news Gladio had been searching for for two years now. “How do you know it’s him? What’ve you learned? What does he want?”

Still not making eye contact, Iggy let his fingers trail absent-mindedly across Saracchian’s beak and released a rough breath. “It’s difficult to explain—as though the aftertaste of his essence is on the air. He must want something from Solheim, but he was there with us the first time we were there. What could he possibly want now that he couldn’t get then?”

“Could he be keeping you from finding what you want? Could he be searching for clues to Pitioss?”

“I don’t know. He’s implied he already knows the secrets we learned in that place, so I assume he learned of his grandmother in much the same manner we did. As dusty as it is down there, I would think I would have found evidence of tampering with artifacts. Which brings us back to ‘why now?’”

Gladio let his voice drop low, allowing every bitter thought he’d had about Iggy and Laura over the last couple of years to slip into his tone. “You took one helluva a risk for not a lotta payoff. You haven’t even found anything to save Noct yet, have you?”

Iggy’s burning eyes snapped up to him then, no doubt cognizant of everything this argument was really about. “You know, she was right about one thing. It’s not my responsibility to know everything about everything, though I will _always_ endeavor my very best to do so. I recognize I am not without faults, which I beg you to excuse as you do for everyone else. After all, not even the gods themselves are infallible.”

“Yeah, but we’re not at the Citadel managing Noct’s schedule anymore, Ig. You’re practically the king of the whole fucking world, making these decisions while people are dying in the streets!”

“Do you think I _wanted_ for this to happen? That I wanted to lead the rest of humanity headlong into an apocalypse I can’t stop?! Do you honestly believe for a moment that I don’t question my every decision as men and women thrice my age look to me to lead them? But we do what must be done in times such as these, for who else will?”

With the next breath and the next few words out of his mouth, Gladio already knew everything he was about to say because the King had given this speech to Iggy so many times it had become one of his guiding principles. But Gladio let him finish, figuring they could all use some advice right about now.

“But a king cannot lead by standing still. A king pushes onward, always, accepting the consequences and never looking back.”

“Hey, Ig.”

“What?”

“Do you ever wonder why it was always _you_ King Regis was giving that advice to, and not Noct?”

Iggy pursed his lips and tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at Kaze’s saddle across from his outstretched legs. “Well . . . His Majesty did express the desire that I keep him from standing still, but . . ..” His voice dropped low as his eyes fell to his lap. “Knowing what I know now? I wonder about it every day.”

Iggy didn’t give him any time to consider his words; his expression pinched a little as the fingertips poking out of his gloves slipped through the black feathers. “Hanna lá, Saracchian . . . Calima,” he sighed. “Me tulpeth alla?”

Gladio scrambled back on his ass as Saracchian leapt to his feet and bent low, allowing Iggy to throw an arm over his neck. Iggy staggered as the bird stood straight, his knees buckling underneath him as he gipped Saracchian’s wing joint.

“Alluva nin, thana,” he croaked at Saracchian’s screech of protest.

Gladio clambered to his feet to catch him and keep him from falling. “Whoa, where d’you think you’re going?!”

“I must be getting to Myrl. I was supposed to relieve Kimya hours ago, and Laura knows it,” he said, throwing his bad leg over Calima’s back and falling into the saddle. With a commanding click of his tongue, she jumped to her feet, snapping her beak, but Gladio lunged forward to grab the reins.

So she hadn’t left them alone in this universe, which relieved the fuck outta him to hear, but Iggy still had a helluva lot to explain, and he was in no shape for an hour-long trip through the dark on chocoboback.  

“You’re not goin’ anywhere. I don’t think you realize you almost died today, man. Renal failure, heart failure, limb death . . . you’re still in danger, and we gotta get you somewhere with better equipment to check you out.”

“I assure you, I’m quite all right,” he snapped irritably.

“Laura’s gonna rip you a new one for getting your ass torn up like this.”

Iggy let out a long sigh as he let his attention drift to the back of Calima’s white feathers ruffling in the breeze. In a small, faraway voice, he said, “I wish.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes turned hard and glittering again as he glared coldly down at him. “That’s none of your concern,” he said in a clipped, formal tone.

“Fuck that noise. Tell me. _What’s wrong with Laura?_ ”

“You’ve made it abundantly clear that your narrow-minded dispute with us is far more important than her wellbeing. Now, I do thank you immensely for your assistance, and I would be more than happy to clear the air as soon as I get back to Lestallum, but I really must be going.”

Snatching the reins away, he clicked his tongue, and Calima sprung forward, Saracchian leaping off the high rock of the haven right next to him. Gladio threw himself up onto Kaze’s back as he danced to the side in anticipation. A gentle nudge to his sides, and Kaze was bounding up behind Calima in a matter of seconds, his longer legs allowing him to catch up easily.

“If you insist on tagging, along,” Iggy said in a low voice as he drew up to Calima’s flank, “turn that bloody light off.”

Everyone that had worked with Iggy since he’d gotten back complained about his insistence that they remain in the dark at all times—from the moment they left the city until they returned—but as soon as they’d all seen how little action Iggy’s missions saw as a result, they’d all done their best to follow his example. They’d lowered the wattage on their travel lights to bare minimum and worked with a team of six vision-impaired Guardians to learn how to pay attention to those subtle shifts of air and sound, but Gladio still hadn’t managed to work efficiently in the pitch black as Iggy had. He seemed to lack whatever instinct that made Iggy capable of all the weird shit he and Laura did.

“How am I s’posed to steer?” he grumbled as he reached to flick his lamp off, plunging him into complete darkness. It was times like these that Gladio really missed the light of the moon. Hell, he’d even take a star or two to reassure him that he wasn’t bouncing around on the back of a chocobo in the middle of the void.

“Kaze knows to follow Calima.”

“You’d think daemons of darkness would be able to see in the dark.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course they can see in the dark, but not in perfect clarity, as with any other nocturnal beast.” His cadence grew pedantic as Instructor Iggy was brought to the fore, and that brief pang of remembrance pounded at Gladio’s chest for the annoying little brat that was always on the receiving end of that tone. “We become one moving thing among many, and only our speech makes us stand out. Now, kindly be quiet so we may have an uneventful journey to Myrl.”

Gladio shut his mouth, reluctantly putting his life in the hands of Iggy and a flock of fucking chocobos as he closed his eyes and let Kaze’s thudding feet carry him through the endless dark.

***

The crumbling old manor that lay just northwest of the Tomb of the Rogue—between the edges of Thriocess mountain range and the misty Myrlwood in a strip of fertile valley—had been a part of the Amicitias’ holdings for longer than records had been kept. Even though the simple, rough-hewn stone estate was supposed to be Gladio’s home, in a way, he felt nothing in his heart on laying eyes on it for the first time. This place would never hold the memories of his family as Insomnia had.

Though it wasn’t much to look at from the outside, Monica and Dustin had informed him when he’d sent them to check on it that the interior had been completely redone in the last ten years or so. Gladio wondered just how long his dad had known shit was gonna hit the fan that he thought his family might’ve needed a safe house beyond Caem.

Iggy had barely allowed Calima to come to a full stop just outside the front door before he swung his leg over and stumbled to the ground. His limping stride didn’t falter as he did his best to march to the front door and burst through it like he owned the place. But Gladio almost bowled over him when he stopped suddenly in the archway that led to the parlor.

“Good evening,” he greeted politely with a little bow, and Gladio peered around the dark wood trim of the arch to see Kimya rising from a faded old settee. “Any changes?”

The old witch nodded, placing a hand to her curled back as she waddled closer to the two of them. “Knows on some level, I think, that in danger her mate was. Close to waking, she was.” Her dark eyes narrowed as she stepped closer, inspecting Iggy from his face down to his chest before stopping at his legs. “A potion you will need for cleansing the blood, but recover you will. In the kitchen I will be to begin the brew.”

“I am most grateful,” Iggy said warmly, “for all you’ve done. I’ll be upstairs if you require any assistance at all. Please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

When her attention focused on Gladio leaning awkwardly against the edge of the wall, she said, “Ahh, found your way here, have you? Blessed is the day when soothed are family ties. Stronger, it makes you, no?”

“Uh . . . yeah,” Gladio muttered as Iggy swept past him and toward the stairs, but Gladio didn’t miss the way he leaned heavily on the banister each time his left leg was the one hauling him up a step. Pointing toward Iggy, he said, “I gotta keep an eye on him.”

He swung around the post at the base of the stairs and took them three at a time to catch up before Iggy reached the landing. “You sure you’re okay, man? You’re limping,” Gladio said as Iggy stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. “Tingling, burning—anything could be a bad sign.”

Iggy’s hand paused over the door handle as he let out a huff of a breath, blowing his drooping bangs out of his face in a way that kinda reminded Gladio of Trina when she was irritated about something. He pretended to suddenly need to wipe his mouth with a hand to cover for the chuckle threatening to bubble out of his throat at the sight.

“I assure you I’m just as disinterested in the prospect of dying or having my leg amputated as you are. It’s merely stiff.”  

Turning the heavy brass knob, Iggy stepped over the threshold, hesitated for a second, and limped closer to the massive Tenebraen oak four-poster that dominated the far wall of the room. The heavy thunk of his heels against the dark wood shifted to gentle steps across the plush rug before he fell on the edge of the mattress and placed his hands on the white cheeks of the girl lying in the bed.

Gladio had seen Laura like this so many times that her pallor and the fact she didn’t stir at all as Iggy leaned to place his forehead against hers didn’t faze him in the slightest. But the way he was acting like he couldn’t contact her, how she’d been missing from the world for two years, that he was wearing her necklace now—these were all beginning to add up. ‘Power comes at a cost,’ he’d said, and here was the cost, clearly. But for what power?

“What happened?”

Iggy sat up to face Gladio with a solemn, blank stare. “She had a choice—work on food supply or the scourge. Running the calculations between the reduction in sunlight and the amount of food we could grow in Lestallum, we determined the living conditions would have become dire nearly instantly. Honestly, what did you think our food supplies were growing on?”

“Figured she and Sania were workin’ their magic over here.”

“For all her talents, Dr. Yeagre has nothing to do with this; the magic has been all Laura’s,” he said, turning his attention back to the sleeping girl in the bed. “She’s been converting generations of our crops to grow on geothermal heat instead of sunlight—placing herself into a coma to recover more quickly only to begin again several months later.”

“You mean she’s been like this the whole time? Why didn’t you say something?”

Ignis’s head whipped back in his direction, his brow lowering and his eyes growing dark. “You were already not speaking to us because you were questioning our decisions. Learning the consequences of that which you already disagreed with would have accomplished nothing more than airing out our dirty laundry, a practice you know I have little patience or appreciation for.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Gladio sighed. “And I still don’t agree—especially with her stepping in with Ardyn.” He thrust his chin in Laura’s direction, and Ignis reached behind him to grasp her limp hand. “But . . . maybe I shouldn’t’ve handled it like that.”

“Shouting matches aren’t necessarily the best tactic for getting your point across, though perhaps we should have been more forthcoming. We operate on instinct, the two of us, and it can be difficult to communicate our intentions to those not on our wavelength.”

“You got that right,” he chuckled, stepping closer to the two of them. Gladio leaned over the bed, examining the girl that had pissed him off so much these past two years. “How much longer?”

“Another month, perhaps? It’s difficult to say, but she won’t have to do another session after this. We have enough of a foundation to breed new generations of geothermal plants to support the population through complete darkness, if necessary.”

Gladio watched in silence as Iggy leaned forward to press his lips against Laura’s forehead, trailing a bare fingertip from her temple down to her chin. He was whispering words Gladio couldn’t hear, but he thought he could see the shape of the phrase ‘my beloved’ as he breathed his secrets to her.

“Ig—nis,” Laura mumbled as Iggy spread his fingers wide on either side of her head.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

A deep wrinkle formed between her brows as she frowned, but her eyes stayed closed. “You’re hurt. Smell it. Felt it.”

“Shh. I’m all right now. Please, get your rest and come back to me.”

But the corner of her lips twitched up for a second as she slurred, “Princess.”

That image of power and fragility—fuck, Gladio was the biggest asshole in the history of Eos, no different than those gossiping bastards passing judgment from afar. He still wasn’t sure he agreed on the whole food versus scourge thing; surely someone else could’ve figured something else out? He sure as hell would never see her reasoning behind the whole mercy thing. Like he’d told Iggy earlier, it had been one helluva gamble with not a lot of payoff.

For family though, sometimes people just had to let shit go.

“Hey Princess,” he grunted, swallowing the knot in his throat as he leaned closer, but judging by her slack expression, she’d already drifted off again. “How can you stand that?” he asked, turning to Iggy. If it had been Iris lying there, breathing her life force into food for the people talking shit about his family, the bitterness probably would’ve eaten him alive.

“We all do what we must in these trying times—for King and country,” he said softly without tearing his eyes away from her face. “I can live without her, and I believe I’ve proven that these last two years.”

Gladio spluttered a little, trying to comprehend the words coming out of Iggy’s mouth. Gladio got that sense of duty better than anyone, but saying something like that was a little too reminiscent of Ice Cold Scientia from the Citadel.

“Wh—”

“That doesn’t mean I have any sort of desire to,” he cut in to explain on seeing Gladio’s expression. “Honestly, I’m not without feeling. Surely you know that by now.”

“I thought I did, but sometimes the words that come outta your mouth . . ..”

“Mmm,” he replied. “I’ll admit to loving her, but don’t think for a moment that it means I’ll go back on my word or falter in my duty in the slightest.”

“You just sacrificed two years of your life with her; I don’t think anyone that knows will question that,” he said with a light slap to Iggy’s shoulder. After a few seconds’ pause, he said softly, “Hey, Ig?”

“What is it now?” he complained, still not tearing his eyes away from his wife’s face as he traced a finger along the edge of her chin.

“I’m . . . sorry. I mean, I still don’t agree, but, you know. I just wanted to kill the bastard—just once. Do what I should’ve done back in Altissia, and . . . you guys betrayed that.”

Iggy finally looked over at him, his expression calculating before it softened. “Do you honestly believe I don’t feel the same?” he asked gently. “Noct is my brother, and we’ve both endured much to protect him. But I won’t do so needlessly.” Sighing, he placed a heavy hand on Gladio’s arm and added, “Family, am I correct? We don’t require recompense. I assume you’ll be staying the night?”

“Uh . . . yeah. Not going back out in that, thanks.”

***

“Gladio, wake up,” Iggy whispered over the sound of a beeping cell alarm he definitely hadn’t set.

He was expecting to see the gray fabric of the tent when he sat up, since that voice and that alarm rarely accompanied any other setting, but he was disoriented for a second when he rubbed his eyes to reveal the wood-paneled walls and window bench of the still-unfamiliar guest room of his dad’s . . . his estate.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I hope you didn’t have anything terribly pressing on your agenda today,” came the soft accented voice by his bedside. He looked over to see Iggy already dressed and done up in his Crownsguard uniform. “It appears as though we’ve discovered what Ardyn was up to in those ruins. We need to leave immediately and handle the issue.”


	87. Chapter 87

There was very little use to being the man who couldn’t die, in Captain Jack Harkness’s view. As Tomos handed him the stack of three large pizzas—mushroom and pepperoni, sausage and pepper, and plain cheese—and the greasy cardboard began burning his fingers, he thought that immortality should at least have come with some kind of super power—even if it was a stupid one, like Pizza Protection.

He stepped out of the Jubilee pizza shop onto the quay overlooking Cardiff Bay with his team’s lunch in tow, the cool salty air grasping the edges of his RAF greatcoat and whipping them into the wind. A tone sounded in his ear, and he pressed the button that would pick up the call, grateful for the modern technology that would allow him not to have to hold a phone to his ear as he shifted the hot pizzas from hand to hand. There hadn’t been a pizza shop or any businesses besides the undertaker in this area a hundred years ago when he’d first started monitoring the Rift in time and space that cut through the center of Cardiff, but he was a little fuzzy on the details of just how his fellow Torchwood field agents had gotten a hold of him when he’d stepped out.

“Ianto Jones! Don’t tell me you couldn’t handle the place for twenty minutes without me. Lay some of those beautiful Welsh vowels on me and tell me what you’ve got.”

Static crackled across the line for a second before Ianto responded, “Jack. Tosh is getting readings of massive spikes in Rift activity. I’ve sent Gwen to investigate, but it’s right on top of your position.”

“All right, all right. Get Gwen back inside. Have Owen and Tosh break out the equipment. Torchwood’s on the case. We gotta be prepared for anyth—”

That blaze of heat and bright light that shot through his chest and across the backs of his eyelids was all too familiar, as many times as he’d messed around with this thing and ended up in different points of time and space. But he was beginning to grow more aware of a curious new sensation this time, which was always bad news for him—a pull originating where his heart was beating hard in his chest and yanking him to the left, dragging his skin and muscle and bone right along with it.

Tearing, searing pain threatened to pull him apart, and for a fleeting moment, he could only hope his team wouldn’t end the world in an effort to get him back—again—before he finally surrendered, losing his consciousness in the black ocean of death.

***

For as long as he’d lived and died so far, he didn’t think he would ever grow used to that absolute void of nothingness that lasted simultaneously for a split second and an eternity . . . until suddenly, every fiber of his being was burning, blaring, blazing to life with an electric pulse that made his nerves dance as though he were being shot through with streaks of gold light.

As he lay there stunned, sucking in that first breath with a lung-bursting gasp, years of experience were allowing his instincts to gather enough information to tell him that he wasn’t in the same place he’d died. Gritty dirt bunched beneath his fingertips as he curled them into the ground beneath him, and long blades of grass hindered his view of a dimly-lit sky. Judging by the weight of a well-muscled body over his back and the chill of what felt like the tip of a steel blade against his throat, someone already wanted him dead—which was really nothing new.

“A man appearing in these parts from nowhere to land on top of another can hardly be up to any good. State your identity and intentions,” a chocolate baritone commanded from above his head.

Judging by the accent, he was probably somewhere in Britain still, lying sprawled out face first in the dirt with what sounded like a gorgeous man perched on his back holding a blade against his Adam’s apple. But that shift to the side before he’d died told him that he was probably on a parallel world, despite the fact that the Doctor had told him it was impossible to cross the void into another universe.

Either way, it sounded like the start of a really, really fun lunch break.

“Captain Jack Harkness, and as far as intentions go, that really depends on you, gorgeous. You’re the one on top of me right now.”

“Oh, bloody hell, it’s _you_ ,” the voice moaned as the weight lifted off him. “I thought we’d told you to clear off. You’re the _last_ thing we need right now. What was it she said? Protocol Alpha-Bravo-Tango 472 Delta?”

Something deep in his memory set off claxons at those words—a password he hadn’t heard in over a century—'planet-wide quarantine in effect; return to base and keep the sector clear of all personnel.’ But he hadn’t met anyone in his life that had used that code from his Time Agent days, and rolling over on his back to inspect the man questioning him, he knew instantly that he’d _never_ forget a face like that for as long as he lived.

He was the most stunningly beautiful creature Jack had ever seen—and that was saying something. A carefully disheveled mop of golden-brown hair gave him a sort of suggestive appearance, like he’d just rolled out of bed freshly-shagged, artfully arranged his bedhead, and was ready to face his next adventure. That straight nose, those high cheekbones, that jawbone that could cut glass—all features that reminded him strongly of Archians from Angelica, who’d been vain enough to visit Earth during Greece’s Hellenistic period and inspired most of their gods’ images. But it was those large, almond-shaped eyes the color of emerald, and by the Goddess of Time herself, the bow of those perfect lips, that left even a man of Jack’s age and experience in a daze. And judging by the shape and weight of the frame that had been pinning him to the ground . . . yep. That was perfect, too.

Maybe he’d finally died, after all.

But if this man recognized him as a Time Agent, then he must have had a parallel self running around here at some point on a mission. And given the way he’d been pulled here like a TARDIS is drawn to disaster, he was probably needed here before he could go back. Jack wasn’t really into the idea of explaining parallel worlds to this guy, so he decided playing along would be his best option.

“Yeah well, got called back again.” Adopting a southern accent and grinning cheekily up at him, he drawled, “Seems like _you_ cowboys cin’t handle yer own business!” He sat up, running his hands through his hair—he hoped he looked good, at least, after a trip like that. “But seriously, boys and girls, I was called here to help with whatever the problem is, and I don’t think brass is gonna let me go back without solving it.”

The young man lowered the ornately decorated ceremonial dagger in his hand, taking a step back. “Seeing as how our objectives are identical, and you are likely to have more experience in these matters, it seems only sensible we work together for now.” He straightened, adopting a formal tone like a tour guide at the British museum. “Very well. You’re on the planet Eos, and two interdimensional gates—that we know of—have opened up on the planet—likely because the man responsible for opening them in the first place wishes to do the people who have escaped there great harm. We can’t be certain of that. I’ve sent my comrades, Gladio and Y’jhimei, to take care of one while I handle the other. We must solve the problem and deactivate the gate before the man can get to them.”

“Why don’t we start from the beginning?” he said with a groan as he got to his feet. Flashing the kid his signature smile, he held out a hand and said, “Captain Jack Harkness, as you already know. Why don’t you put that knife away and tell me your name? Don’t recall if I got it last time we met.”

Jack concealed his surprise at the way the man casually waved his hand in the air, the knife disappearing in a flash of silver light and a breath of wind, before holding it out for a firm handshake. “Yes, of course. Forgive me, but it appears to have been several years for you since I last saw you. Ignis Scientia.”

From the accent and the appearance, Jack would’ve guessed he was a high-bred kid from London, or thereabouts, going through a sort of punk rocker phase. The resonance and formality of his tone suggested he was about to invite him to take the hounds out on a fox hunt, but that casual use of some sort of spatial-hyperlink technology with a weapon as old-fashioned as a knife told him he couldn’t assume anything anymore.

“Human? Mind you, not that it makes a difference to me,” he said, letting his eyes travel from the stylish boots, up those long legs, and lingering on his broad shoulders. But damn, a black and platinum ring studded with diamonds glittered on the ring finger of his left hand. That ring had so many meanings in different times, planets, and cultures, though—sometimes implying more of a spiritual loyalty than a sexual one, like when he’d been born in the fifty-first century. Jack had always respected the beliefs of the locals, but if this delectable creature was willing, Jack wouldn’t mind making those stunning green eyes roll up in his head. Jack bet he’d be a moaner, too. By the goddesses, he loved it when the quiet, studious ones moaned.

Ignis ignored the suggestion, tilting his head in thought as they studied each other. “We call ourselves human on this planet, but I suppose one can assume nothing when taking into account the different histories of our worlds.”

With a sprinkling of luminescent petals, a pair of silver gloves appeared in his hands. As he pulled them on, he said, “Now, I was just leaving the haven for the gate. Are you armed?”

Jack pulled his Webley Mk IV out of his coat pocket and wiggled it a little before tucking it away again. “Always.”

“Very well,” he said with a sharp nod. “It’s only a five-minute walk in that direction,” he said, indicating to the southwest, “though this world isn’t without its perils. Wild animals, daemons—should anything run at us, the chances are high it means to do us harm. Be ready.”

The mention of demons intrigued him, but he supposed that quarantine order wasn’t just brass’s way of having a laugh. With a casual laugh of his own, he slapped the kid on the back. “Oh, I’m ready for anything.”

Ignis’s face grew firm and serious as they walked, his eyes darting over the scenery—assessing, calculating, planning escape routes. Jack recognized well the habits of a young soldier hardened by too much experience in battle. He kept his own eyes peeled, following behind Ignis as he leapt lightly over a rustic wooden fence; over outcroppings of wet, mossy rock; and through thick, wilting underbrush. Squinting up at the strangely hazy orange sky, he flipped over the leather flap of his broken vortex manipulator and checked the local time.

“Is your sun dying? My calculations say it’s noon here.”

“It is noon,” he said in a hushed voice. “And not only is our sun dying, there’s also a layer of . . . it’s complicated, though we’re fortunate she continues to do her best to keep us warm, else we’d be dead by now.”

Jack matched his volume with a murmured, “Yeah, scans tell me you’ve got a layer of some sort of unidentified particle in your atmosphere. Why aren’t you all rushing these gates to abandon this planet? Seems like a gift these opened up, if you ask me.”

“Because this world is also experiencing a pandemic. It would hardly be responsible of us to spread this disease across the stars. Our only hope is to cure it on this world.”

Jack’s heart dropped to his feet as several pieces of the puzzle that was Ignis fell into place. A planet quarantined for disease, marked for death. A lone man sent to quietly handle one of the two gates that could offer sanctuary to the people but would wreak havoc throughout all of time and space if they took it. Fate was always offering teasing philosophical and ethical problems like this for Jack to solve, forcing him to commit the despicable to save the world by sacrificing the innocent, and he was often the only man for the job.

This Ignis Scientia must have been this world’s version of Torchwood.

“I take it the public doesn’t know about this little lifeboat opportunity?”

“No,” he responded flatly.

As the view opened up to reveal the rolling, rocky landscape and a ridiculously picturesque rushing river, Jack found he didn’t have eyes for anything but this man, who’d already reminded him far too much of himself and all his wide-eyed and innocent Torchwood agents just starting out—becoming more and more jaded as they sacrificed all for the greater good.

So he told the kid exactly what he would’ve wanted to hear when he’d made his first kill in the Time Agency.

“You’re doing the right thing, you know.”

“I do know, in fact, though I appreciate the encouragement,” Ignis replied smoothly, with just the hint of a bite in his tone that made Jack wonder what the hell this kid had already gone through to make him so sure. Nearly two hundred years in, and he wasn’t so sure sometimes.

As he came to a stop in front of a bronze, lit-up platform set on a stone floor between two high rocks, Jack tilted his head to inspect the design of the mushroom-headed creature holding a flower in glowing white lights.

“Is that . . . a Hiso?”

“Yes,” Ignis said, coming to stand next to him and staring down at the interdimensional hyperlink, “though we’ve yet to determine why the gate depicts the image, as the civilization on the other side clearly pre-dates the Hiso’s involvement with that world.”

“Probably overrode the circuitry of the original technology of the planet when they remodeled the place. It would include these interdimensional gates.”

“I see. The civilization that existed here on Eos before us was interdimensional as well, but they have long-since migrated to the world on the other side. We’ve regressed—I would say to late 20th century, early 21st century Earth standards. It’s . . . complicated.”

“Why do I get the feeling I’m gonna be hearing that from you a lot?” he laughed, but he inwardly wondered just how complicated it was when his scans indicated this wasn’t even a space-faring society, and yet this man somehow knew about Earth culture. Growing serious, he studied Ignis’s interested expression. The curiosity was marred somewhat by the heavy rings under his eyes and unhealthy skin earned by far too many sleepless nights, and Jack wondered where his life partner was at a time like this—if they even knew what he was up to. None of his certainly ever had. “You ready?”

“Always,” he said heavily, lifting a foot to hover over the gate.

They stepped on the shining metal together and were instantly carried off in a swirling whoosh of color and sound.

Jack instinctually shoved Ignis to the opposite side of the disc the moment they had solidified, spreading out and taking cover behind the ancient-looking carved columns surrounding them in a circle in the dark, high-ceilinged room. Jack squinted into the low light cast by the disc in an attempt to assess their situation, but the range of visibility beyond the pulsing blue halo was pretty much nil. Given how much his own breath was echoing in the vast space, he doubted anyone breathing could be in here with them. Convinced they were safe for now, he turned his attention to Ignis, curious to see the kid’s reaction at being transported.

But instead of fear or excitement, Ignis’s expression was pinched in what looked to Jack like pain.

“What’s wrong?” Jack whispered.

“It’s nothing,” he said in a low, clipped tone, his jaw barely unclenching to get the words out. But despite his dismissal, he leaned heavily against the pillar, shaking his head roughly.

Typical. It was never wise for a soldier to display weakness in front of an enemy or a stranger, but they couldn’t be crossing universes and getting into life-threatening situations without a little trust. Jack crossed the disc, placed a heavy hand on Ignis’s shoulder, and spun him so they were face-to-face. “We’re partners on this. We’re gonna have to rely on each other, so I’m gonna need to be kept in the loop here. You got a headache or something?”

Ignis hesitated and looked down at Jack’s chest, the bulge in his jaw twitching as he considered his words. After a tense moment, he reluctantly said, “I have a telepathic bond that doesn’t reach across dimensions. I’ve lost the connection.” When Jack’s eyebrows shot up into his bangs, he continued, “I may be human, but my wife is not.”

“What kinda bond? Sharing thoughts, feelings, or power?” Ignis’s eyes narrowed in suspicion at his question, so he added, “I need to know how deeply you’re affected here. I know a thing or two about telepathic bonds.”

His eyes dropped to the stone at their feet as he whispered, “Everything.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say in response to that for a moment as he stood on an interdimensional disc that shouldn’t’ve even existed and contemplated this kid who probably shouldn’t’ve existed either. Jack had heard of fully-saturated marriage bonds in his cultural sensitivity classes back in the Academy, but they’d been presented as myth at the time. Of course, most of the myths he’d learned about in school had turned out to be true the longer he knocked about in time and space, like Time Lords.

“You all right?” he asked, remembering that severing such an intense connection was supposed to be debilitatingly painful.

“Yes,” he bit back, standing straight and schooling his features. Looking up at the column standing next to him, he said, “This architecture is ancient Solheimian, as my . . . friend implied the last time he was here. But these aren’t ruins as he claimed they were. They’ve been rebuilt. Look.”

He pointed to a spot on the column about two meters above their heads, where the seam of a pillar shifted from smooth, ancient stone to newer, rougher rock. The section seemed to serve as a brace between the columns encircling the disc, a series of stone arches covered in circular writing he couldn’t decipher. If he squinted, it kinda reminded him of simplistic Gallifreyan. 

After eyeing Ignis one more time to make sure he really was okay before allowing the subject to move on, he turned back to the arch and said, “That newer work looks like a Hiso job to me. Always match the architecture, but can never match the aged look when doing this kinda work.”

“Fascinating. Hundreds of years must have passed since Noct was here, given how old even the newer structure appears. Shall we venture forth to ascertain our location?”

“Well, this is your party, since your people’ve been here before. Looks like the disc is already deactivated. We could head back.”

“Not quite,” Ignis said, striding confidently forward into the black. Jack followed after, unable to see a damn thing the second they’d stepped through the ring of arches, but following the fall of Ignis’s steps in front of him nevertheless. “The last time we did this, there was a potentially paradox-inducing situation to resolve. It would behoove us to at least check before we return. Assess the general state of things.”

“Gotta be careful though. We don’t know anything about the locals.”  

Ignis nodded as he stopped at a doorway, which was dimly lit from some unseen light source in the next room. He slowly peered around the corner before signaling for Jack to follow. The hallway beyond appeared to curve around the room they’d just exited like an inner ring of an enormous tree. Though they were still trapped in a windowless stone structure, it was helpfully lit by recessed lighting in the floor, at least—roughly 50th century by Jack’s estimation. Opening up his vortex manipulator, he started a scan to see what he could find out about where and when they were.

“Looks like this entire planet’s one big city,” he said with a whistle, “5,127 levels of city built up from this ground floor all over the planet, population—”

“One trillion people,” Ignis said casually as he stopped to press his hand against an elevator control, which he shouldn’t even have recognized as such. Jack looked up at him in surprise.

“I believe I may have been here before, in a sense, . . . if it is, in fact the same place described. The planet had the exact number of levels and was called Courscant.”

“Coruscant,” Jack replied flatly. “As in . . . Star Wars.”

“Well, I don’t know what you mean by that, I’m afraid, but I was once sort of . . . shown this place when I asked if a single city could take up an entire planet. Knowing what I know now, I suppose the architecture does resemble depictions of what our [Solheim](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/finalfantasy/images/b/be/Solheim-Illustration-FFXV.png/revision/latest?cb=20170930161513) must have looked like at its height on Eos.”

The door slid open with a hiss of air, and as the two of them stepped inside, Jack pressed the button to the top floor. He looked over at Ignis to flash him a crooked smile as the doors closed, but he noticed the kid barely wobbled as the elevator shot up at breakneck speed.

“This place only exists in the movies in my universe. Oh ho! I sooooo hope we’re about to meet Yoda. Maybe he can settle a centuries-old bet. Buddy of mine and I have always wondered what color he’d blush.”

“Master Yoda—hardly a blushing man from what I’ve seen, though a fascinating discussion partner for debating the philosophy of the undermining role emotion plays in behavior and whether or not eschewing it devalues what it means to be a sentient being. But if I’ve learned anything, we can’t assume that was the same universe as this.”

“You’re right. We can’t assume anything,” Jack said significantly, staring at the young man appraising the elevator controls in fascination. If he hadn’t known already that it was impossible for the Doctor to have crossed universes, he would’ve guessed this kid to have been a former companion. “So, you done a lotta universal traveling?”

Ignis pursed his lips together, frowning. “Yes, and yet no. This is my first time leaving my home planet. My apologies, but it’s complicated.”

He’d touched some sort of nerve, judging by the indefinable look in Ignis’s eyes, so he smiled broadly and slapped him on the shoulder. “Oh yeah, I know how that is. Practically invented complicated.”

The elevator doors opened up onto a brightly-lit but windowless curved hallway, wider than the first and populated with at least twenty different species of people as they bustled and strolled to wherever they were headed. Jack was about to advise Ignis to just blend in and look like he belonged when Ignis stepped out of the elevator, marching confidently into the hall like he had every right to be here.

The kid must’ve had a lot of experience sneaking where he shouldn’t have been—good for him. Jack would’ve offered him and his bondmate a job back in his home universe with Torchwood if he hadn’t known for a fact Ignis wouldn’t take him up on the offer. It was a shame, really. He could’ve used some more good men and women on his staff, and he was still kinda hoping to meet this alien that could soul-bond with a human.

Jack decided to follow behind, content with taking the support role on this adventure as his attention caught on Ignis’s long-legged, no-nonsense stride and that rather enticing derrière—even if he’d seen better in his long life. The kid moved like a dancer—or a pouty model on a catwalk, but the tech, the dagger, the suggestion of ‘sort of’ time and universal travel, the alien wife, coupled with that casual weariness plucked at his curiosity.

“So whaddya do, Ignis?” he asked as Ignis stopped to examine a bulletin board featuring missing person’s ads and advertisements for dodgy used speeders.

“I serve as Grand Chamberlain to the King of Lucis,” he said matter-of-factly before striding on. They turned left onto a larger ring of the structure before he added, “Prime Minister, Senior Advisor, strategist, tactician . . .  those all apply in some fashion or another if you’re familiar with any of those.”

Ahh, royalty; that explained the whole hoity-toity combo of odd fashion sense and stiff formality that made him fit all too well in this bougie place, but there was still something that didn’t quite add up.

“The King has his head of household running interdimensional errands often, does he?”

“It’s—”  

“Lemme guess. Complicated?”

Jack stepped aside to allow someone to pass between them—seriously, was that a Nautolan woman? Being surrounded by so many species at once was nothing new to him, but this was like walking around a movie set packed with some of the most beautiful people in existence. The woman’s thick, fleshy figure was heavily muscled in the most delightful way, clearly visible even underneath a couple layers of leather and fabric. The deep green tentacles growing from her head to lay heavy on her shoulders were capped and decorated with intricate bronze and golden rings that flashed as they caught the lighting overhead.

Her earthy brown, saucer-shaped eyes seemed to catch his as she passed, and he kept his gaze locked on hers, turning to watch her sway as she walked.

Oooh, he’d _so_ love to . . .

“Eyes forward,” Ignis commanded softly as he turned onto yet another hallway, this one lined in curved glass from the floor to the ceiling all along the outer edge of the wall. Jack was just about to ask what he thought he was looking for when he came to a sudden stop in front of one of the massive panes of thick glass, his eyes roaming over the cityscape stretching out forever beneath their feet.

The façade Ignis had so obviously been clinging to since they’d arrived suddenly slipped—his elegant lips parting and his emerald eyes opening wide as he gently reached out to brush the window with the very tips of his gloved fingers. By the Goddess of Time, he looked so young, so raw—like Jack had probably looked when he’d thought he was old and jaded . . . before being saved by a nineteen-year-old girl and a Time Lord.

“So . . . _alive_ ,” Ignis whispered. “It’s beautiful. Was this what Solheim once was on Eos? To see a city in real life that dwarfs even Insomnia . . ..”

Jack stepped up close beside him, remembering what it’d been like when he’d first started traveling with Rose and the Doctor, when he was still a kid trying to be an adult and pretending he was over the wonders of the universe already. But then he would watch Rose’s eyes light up unreservedly at some completely ordinary sight, like the one they were seeing now, and that light would shine so bright that it was reflected in the eyes of a broken nine-hundred-year-old soldier. It was wonder. That incomparable wonder cured the soul of all evils, if one was fortunate enough to find it amidst a sea of death and violence.

If he tried hard enough to see it through Ignis’s eyes, the [cityscape](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/5/5c/Coruscant_at_night.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20080610031227) _was_ beautiful, even if it was nothing new to him. A hazy dusk was brushing its color against the buildings, the gentle orange light fading to brilliant sapphire as it streaked the shadowed edges of the blunt-tipped towers black. Their silhouettes rose high above the rest of the city, breaking up the flat terrain with dramatic spires and shadowy columns speckled with points of light. The layers of traffic, with their lines of halting head and tail lights, combined with the glowing sea of lit-up windows of the lower buildings, flipping what should have been a starry night sky to the ground instead.

But it was a façade. Even with the CO2 scrubbers working at full capacity, the smog lingered in the atmosphere, at least muffling the roar of traffic they couldn’t hear through the thick layer of glass. Even as they watched the deceptively peaceful scene, a silent gust of wind kicked up, sending that smog billowing away along with several tiles from the roofs of some of the lower towers.

But Jack brushed aside the realism for a moment in favor of Ignis still standing enraptured with a kind of yearning that made him appear both ancient and youthful to Jack’s eyes. If he could share in this with Ignis for just a moment, maybe get him to look in his direction with that fiery spark of wonder, perhaps Jack could recapture a faded fragment of his own lost youth.

“Just think of it, Ignis,” he whispered, leaning close to his ear and resisting the urge to take his hand. “Every point of light you see is a soul, forging their own path and following their own dreams in this world. Seeing it from up here, it’s all so tiny and insignificant, but to them? Their lives are giants.”

But instead of having the desired effect, his words doused that quietly burning ember entirely.

“What’s wrong?”

Ignis’s lips parted to speak, but it was several moments before he said softly, “The words are familiar, but the voice is wrong. You remind me of her; I can see why she liked you.”

“Your wife? So I’ve met her, then?”

But instead of answering, he slowly turned back to the window, his expression rigid. After several seconds of silence between them, he answered, “The woman with the black hair that gave you the code.”

“Ahh yeah,” he lied, “I think I remember her. She was _gorgeous_.”

“Yes, you made that perfectly clear when you attempted to kiss her.”

So some similarities carried across universes, then. Good. He’d hate to think of a version of himself out there somewhere not living up to his reputation, but he wondered if his alternate self had endured what he had—mostly the Time Agency’s betrayal, since the Doctor and the events leading to Jack’s immortality didn’t exist in this—or any other—universe, besides his own. He wondered how he’d come to have the same alias when he hadn’t yet left the Time Agency, what sort of man he was if he hadn’t met Rose or the Doctor.

“I knew a girl like that once, too,” he said with a faraway smile of remembrance. “Changed my life forever.” He chuckled a little at his inside joke, but inwardly, he was hoping for nothing more than that wherever Rose was, she was living that fantastic life he and the Doctor had always wanted for her—that somewhere in the multiverse, her bright brown eyes were lighting up with joy at taking in some spectacular sight like this one.

He looked over to see Ignis studying him contemplatively, his gaze burning with the unspoken question that Jack could read off his face like a book.

“She died.”

Which wasn’t technically true, but Rose existed in a different time stream now, which made her just as dead as she was alive—Schrödinger’s Rose.

Ignis had inhaled and opened his mouth to reply, but a sharp, commanding voice rising over the sound of hundreds of people passing them by caught their attention.

“We don’t have the time to put it on the docket today. Senator Amidala is proposing new legislature to pacify the Separatists, and it would be best to wait until the Jedi Council got back to us on their report.”

“But Senator! The gale forces are causing the underworld inhabitants to migrate up into the city levels. Violent crime has risen 200% in the last month. If we don’t find the solution . . . I’m telling you whatever this is is unnatural. Even the lower levels of the over city are beginning to feel it.”

Jack’s ears piqued at the word ‘unnatural,’ and he turned to face the two beings hurrying up the hall.

No matter what universe he was in, there was always one thing that would always be true: that word usually meant trouble, and he was willing to bet at least four bottles of hypervodka that this was the trouble they were sent here to sort out, thus sorting out the trouble on Eos, which would _hopefully_ allow him to get back to his team . . . somehow.

Adopting his most winning smile, Jack stepped into the current of traffic and cut off the route of the two people they had overheard. “What seems to be the problem, ladies and gents?” he asked jovially, swaggering closer to the red-headed human woman and holding out a hand. “Captain Jack Harkness.”

She was even more colorfully dressed than Ignis, standing next to him with his arms crossed in his studded purple leopard print. While the royal blue velvet suit definitely highlighted the subtle lavender undertones of the woman’s skin, Jack had to say that a kind of nostalgia blossomed in his chest at the sight of the black and white creeper saddle shoes he hadn’t seen since the 1950s—even if they’d never been laced in neon lime green in his time.

As the woman cautiously reached out to shake his hand, he turned his smile to the being standing next to her. Jack didn’t recognize the species of the alien standing with its head cocked to one side to better utilize one of its lidless, black eyes to stare down at him. The figure was about three meters tall with a long, thin neck covered in brown splotches; a grey, pointed face; and several rows of sharp teeth, which were bared either menacingly in its snarling mouth or in a smile of greeting. Two of its six heavily-muscled arms ended in long-fingered orange hands that gripped two small stacks of books.

Neither of them offered a name, instead turning their attention toward Ignis as though looking for an explanation. Some unspoken communication seemed to pass between the three of them as the two strangers wordlessly questioned who they were and why, exactly, they were butting in on the conversation.

“Ignis Scientia, Duke of Kettier of the planet Eos,” Ignis said formally with a slight bow—deep enough to be polite but not enough to establish himself as lower on the pecking order, so the kid obviously had a lot of experience dealing with these types. “Our most humble apologies, but as investigators of the paranormal, we couldn’t help but overhear your predicament. We may be able to be of some assistance if you would be so kind as to give us more information.”

“Oh, thank the Supreme One!” the being Jack had identified as a shark-giraffe sighed, using a third long-fingered hand to wipe its chin dripping with some sort of blue bodily fluid. “There are strong gusts of wind originating from somewhere in the underlevels of the city, but we can’t pinpoint the exact location, nor do we know how to stop it! It’s getting stronger as the days go by, threatening to rip the lower floors out from some of the older buildings in the area and forcing the riffraff to move higher up into the city.”

Jack flashed a calming, pearly-white smile up at the nervous person. “And I don’t believe I’ve gotten your name, either,” he said as he held out a hand to it. “Captain Jack Harkness.” The being’s black eyes widened in bedazzlement, an enticing purple flush spreading across its gray cheeks.

“Hyrithik,” the being replied, still shaking his hand and smiling shyly. “And this is Senator Patton.”

Jack spread his lips wider. “Nice to meet you, Hyrithik.”

“Now that we’re all introduced,” Ignis cut in, stepping closer, “shall we discuss the matter of your weather issue?”

The senator’s light amber eyes traveled up from Ignis’s sparkly boots to his mop of hair suspiciously. “I think the Jedi Council has the matter under control.”

Jack caught Ignis’s attention, widening his eyes in a glare and nodding his head in their new acquaintances’ direction in a wordless message he could only hope Ignis understood: _stall_.

Ignis’s mouth dropped open a little in disbelief, but his attention darted immediately back to the other two. “And the Council has been unable to locate the source of the issue, you say?”

As the conversation continued, Jack brought his arm up to flip over his wrist strap, scanning for atmospheric or temporal anomalies that could possibly be responsible for abnormal wind velocity in the area. His broken vortex manipulator, really more of a multi-functional tool, was meant more for surface-level scanning in the field and not the intense, deep scans Tosh’s equipment back at the hub was capable of. But his equipment was from the fifty-first century, not the twenty-first as Tosh’s was, so it only took a few seconds longer to find what he was looking for. He zeroed in on the area a few blocks from here, running universal, resonant frequency, and temporal readings to determine what they were dealing with.

“But, Senator Patton,” Hyrithik protested. “The Council’s initial findings revealed no—”

“Hyrithik,” Senator Patton snapped. “The point is, we have no idea who these gentlemen are or where they come from.”

“I assure you, we’re more than capable of researching such a phenomenon,” Ignis said.

“A duke of a planet I’ve never heard of and . . . whatever he’s supposed to be a captain of?”

Jack didn’t look up from his vortex manipulator as he spoke in a confident, ringing tone, “You’ve got a simple temporal shift at street level in that direction. They can sometimes crop up when you’ve got interdimensional instability, and we’ve already taken care of that,” Jack said, pointing in the direction of the shift. In reality, he knew a hell of a lot more than that—the anomaly was located 6.3 kilometers north-northwest from their current position, and he could even give accurate global coordinates down to a dime. But nothing would make him sound like more of an idiot than using a bunch of units these people likely wouldn’t understand, and he wasn’t enough of a Star Wars fan to remember if parsecs was a standard galactic unit of measurement.

“The shift in time is rippling like an aurora there, opening up a wormhole to a point roughly a hundred thousand years in your past,” Jack continued in the wake of the silence. “Absolutely _spewing_ gusts of wind up to 145 meters per second.” He winced a little at his use of the term ‘meters,’ but what could he say? Those were some _strong_ suckers.

“Now . . . we all know the Jedi are powerful, but they just don’t have the tech to deal with temporal anomalies. We’re happy to do it, but as you’ve probably guessed, this isn’t our world, so we’d be just as happy to leave you to it.”

“What do you want?” the senator asked cautiously.

Jack was about to step forward and tell her that it depended completely on what she wanted, but Ignis beat him to the punch.

“We require no repayment. As researchers of the phenomenon, we would be benefitting from the data we collect as we corrected the issue. We only ask that you clear the area of civilians as we close the portal.”

“I suppose there’s nothing to lose and everything to gain. Fine,” she huffed, glaring over at Jack for some reason. “I’ll send the riot police to clear the area. It’s less inhabited as of late, though that doesn’t mean it isn’t still a dangerous area. But allow me to make it clear now that we’re not responsible if something happens to you.”

“Of course, Senator,” Ignis said with another bow. “We’ll leave to handle the issue straightaway.”

***

The tails of Jack’s coat slapped at the air behind him, acting as a sail and threatening to tear him off the utility pole he was clinging to as he did his best to squint against the blizzard of crumpled papers and half-decayed food wrappers being hurled past his face. Where was Ignis in all this? Was he okay? Jack thought he might have heard Ignis’s voice yelling for him the second the gale had unexpectedly burst from nowhere like a faucet slapped on full blast, but the roar of the wind scraping over his ears was making it pretty much impossible to hear and correctly identify anything.

Until everything abruptly stopped—just as unexpectedly as it’d started—allowing his feet and knees to crash to the sidewalk. As the humid night air grew still and quiet, he slowly let his arms loosen from the pole that had saved him from dying—again (and he sure as hell didn’t want to have to explain _that_ whole process to Ignis). Still half collapsed face first into the streetlamp and catching his breath, he was about to call out to check on Ignis when his soft, polite tones reached his ears.

“Are you all right?” Ignis asked—way too calmly to have been through what he just had.

Jack opened his eyes, pushed himself away from the pole, and sat back on his knees.

Ignis was standing perfectly composed about ten meters away, his hand reaching tentatively out toward him. Here in the dark, grimy slums of the lower city, Ignis stuck out like a Raxacoricofallapatorian shopping for cereal at Tesco’s. The single streetlamp directly above his head seemed to set his hair on golden fire, but his expression was cast in an eerie shadow that made him look like a noir detective from one of those cheesy films in the 1940s. Garbage bags and half-rotted trash piled up on the edge of the sidewalk were still lying scattered and defeated at his feet, which at least explained why Ignis appeared so unruffled.

“Yeah, I’m okay. So,” he said with a groan as he got to his feet, “looks like this portal opens in only one direction, and as usual, I happened to be standing on the wrong side.”

“Well, well. It seems we found what we were looking for,” Ignis said thoughtfully as he sauntered closer. “The portal seems to only open for seconds at a time. I can’t speak on your behalf, of course, but I’m certain my abilities are up to the challenge—whatever needs to be done.”

“Oh my abilities are up to the challenge, all right,” he said with a wink and a leer. “I’m pretty talented in a lot of things, if you’re interested in finding out.”

Ignis picked his way closer, careful to keep his shoes as clean as possible despite the dirty street. “Perhaps you could put those talents of yours to a more fruitful use and tell me how to close this portal before another gust of wind rips through here.”

“Easy enough—it works the same as the gates, since they’re what’s causing the problem. Just jump through the portal when it activates again. It would’ve happened eventually had someone come along at just the right time, but then the poor sucker wouldn’t have had a way to get back home.”

“We’ll have mere moments to jump through before the wind picks up. And then we’ll be able to take the gate on the other side back to Eos?”

“Readings say it’s still there on the other side, so I don’t see why not. No guarantee where it’ll drop us back though. Pretty sure it’s temporally unstable on Coruscant’s side, if your friend was only recently here hundreds of years ago.”

“Leave that to me,” Ignis said confidently, and Jack raised an eyebrow at him. Jack himself had no idea how he was going to get back to his universe when they returned to Eos, and with his vortex manipulator having been broken for nearly two hundred years now, he had no confidence he could return Ignis anywhere should they land wrong.

“You got some tech or something from that wife of yours?” he asked. If she knew Time Agency protocol, maybe she was another rogue agent.

“I wouldn’t call it tech, but it serves the same purpose,” he said, before his eyes suddenly shot to a point at shoulder height in front of them. “That. There. A shift in the air. Do you feel it? It’ll happen soon.”

He couldn’t feel a thing, but he was no stranger to following those who had that mysterious connection with a higher plane. Of his current team, Gwen had possessed the strongest he’d ever seen until meeting this kid—always just _knowing_ things, _feeling_ things about the realm beyond their limited human perception in a way Jack never could.

“I can’t feel it,” he admitted. “You’re gonna have to tell me—”

“Now!”

Jack grasped Ignis’s shoulder, closed his eyes, and stepped forward.

He’d expected the windstorm to immediately begin whipping them away the second they’d landed on the other side of the temporal shift, but the air on his skin was completely still as his hand fell from Ignis’s shoulder and he opened his eyes.

He hadn’t been expecting it to be so bright where they’d landed, either. The light streaming in from the high windows of the tower they’d found themselves in reflected off the high ceiling, the scalloped alcoves of the doors, and the twisting columns that trimmed the space. Iridescent color and shapes painted in shimmering pigment covered every stone panel looming over their heads, like elaborate rugs of cobalt, teal, and gold. The assault of the intricate designs almost made him dizzy after the temporal shift—the thousands of swirling vines and flowers, delicate mandalas, and twisting borders almost popping out from the walls to insert themselves directly into his visual cortex.

“Look up,” Jack heard Ignis whisper, and he obeyed, his mouth parting in appreciation at the scene hovering high above their heads.

Between wrought-iron-paned windows that let in diamond-shaped shafts of sunlight was the vaulted dome ceiling, painted in artfully-precise geometric arrangements of golden flowers and paisley. At the very pinnacle of the dome rested a glimmering golden mandala encrusted with teal jewels the size of Jack’s head.

“Look at those perfect geometric patterns. Worshippers of math _and_ art,” Jack said in hushed voice.

“I believe we’re standing in what will become the ruins the Hiso will rebuild into Coruscant.”

“How do ya figure?” Jack asked, raising his wrist to check.

“We have similar architecture on Eos, relics of the Solheimian Empire, though old enough that only unadorned levels, mostly underground, exist today. Still, some of the geometric patterning on the walls remains, similar to this place. Given the evidence, I would say that we’ve arrived just after the second fall of Solheim.”

“Evidence?”

Ignis pointed to the seams between the walls and floors, out of which grew the occasional tender green weed among small drifts of gritty dirt. There’d been something about the place that even his subconsciousness had picked up on—maybe the dead quiet beyond the wind whipping through the tiny windows—that told him they were alone.

“A hundred thousand years in the past, and no signs of life in the immediate area,” he confirmed as he checked the readings his manipulator was displaying. “Helluva storm brewing out there though. Same source as the one in the future, but weaker, since it’s not being funneled through the portal.”

Ignis didn’t tear his eyes away from the ceiling at his words, but nodded silently in understanding.

At least he seemed to be taking things in stride.

“We should go,” he said finally, though still clearly distracted by the collision of art and math surrounding them. “Time travel or no, I shouldn’t be away for long.”

The intricate paint job still dominated every surface as they made their way down the silent halls of vaulted ceilings, but the colors had gradually grown lighter to reflect more sunlight as they progressed through the building. From the brief glimpses he got into brightly-lit rooms half-veiled by hand-carved doors of vibrant red wood, this must have served as a place of learning at one point—the overturned claw-footed desks still occupied by several hundred bleached-out skeletons the most obvious hint. He wondered what could’ve happened to this place to wipe out the population but leave the architecture mostly intact.

“Wait,” Ignis whispered, holding out a hand to stop him when he’d poked his head in the next door they’d come across. “This one is an office.”

Jack tensed as he followed behind him into the small, dark laboratory office, growing a little impatient to leave this place. In his experience, wandering around post-apocalyptic worlds tended to end with him running naked through the streets with some legendary monster chasing after him. And as much as he wouldn’t mind being one of the only two naked, beautiful men left on this planet, he was eager to get at least one universe closer to returning to his team—if there was even a universe for him to return to after leaving them alone in the hub for the day . . . or decade, depending on whenever he was spit back out when he got home again.

Ignis rushed behind the desk, bypassing what looked like a microscope from the early 28th century in favor of the white skeleton lying half draped across an open book.

“Apologies,” he murmured as he carefully pinched the edge of the dusty tome between two gloved fingers and pulled it out from beneath the skeleton’s shredded and decayed robes. Glancing down at the book, he said, “A journal dating back to the first fall of Solheim on Eos. This book would be ancient by this man’s standards. I wonder what happened that he should feel the need to read it just before he died.”    

“You can try asking him, but I don’t think he’s gonna answer. And I really don’t wanna be around when whatever did this ends up waking up and coming for us,” he replied, beckoning Ignis back toward the hall.

“I must say I agree,” he said as glanced one more time around the office, hesitated, then placed a hand on the microscope.  

When it disappeared beneath his fingers at the same moment as the book, Jack frowned, stepping forward to lead him out of the room. “Not a good idea to be taking stuff from outside your time. You end up curing your disease because of that thing? You could end up causing a paradox that’ll end your world.”

“The book isn’t outside my time but in my past. As to the microscope—only if our demise led to its invention.”

As they re-entered the hall, Jack’s steps slowed a little. “It’s more complicated than that. Yeah, you can’t create a paradox with the microscope, but neither can you create one with every person that lives that shouldn’t have. Since you have no way of knowing what future fixed points you’ll affect, I wouldn’t recommend using that.”

“I assure you, the only person touching this instrument will be a time sensitive being, and if she refuses, it’ll be destroyed. But look, the light grows stronger up ahead. Perhaps we’ve nearly reached the entrance to this place.”

Jack examined him carefully, remembering the sacrifice he was making just by not letting his infected people storm this gate. After a long moment, he decided to let the matter pass. “A lot of experience being lost in ruins?”

“Oh, you’ve _no_ idea,” Ignis said with a smug smile.

It was another few minutes before their ornately decorated little hallway fed into another grand, wide-open rotunda nearly identical to the one they’d landed in, but the towering arch that led out into a sun-drenched courtyard brought with it the loss of protection of four complete walls. The damage from light, wind, dirt, and time done to this room was striking—the lavish patterns peeling off the walls, chunks of masonry crumbling in piles on the ground, and rippling drifts of golden sand climbing up the corners. Even as they stood in the protection of their hallway and watched, a solid curtain of sand and leaves blew through the open passage, adding to the pile of debris on the other side of the room.

“This won’t do at all,” Ignis muttered as they drew closer to the archway. “Surely, Laura must have _something_.”

He continued to murmur as Jack shielded his eyes as best he could and poked his head around the corner—big mistake.  Pulling back, he rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to settle that itching burn of grit lodged under his lids. They had 6.3 kilometers to cover in this, and the only way he saw for them to make it there was to take their shirts off and use them to cover their faces.

Yep, they were so gonna end up naked, being chased through this dead place by some legendary monster out to eat them.

“Take these,” Ignis commanded, thrusting a long strip of fabric and something metal into Jack’s hands.

“Are these . . . aviator goggles from 1920s Earth?” he asked incredulously, slipping the leather strap around his head and adjusting the heavy metal eye rings. The length of white muslin he wrapped around his neck, up over his head, and around his mouth and nose before looking to Ignis, who was adjusting his 182nd century Mondasian safety goggles over his glasses.

“So I’ve been told,” he replied, his voice a little muffled by the layers of heavy black fabric wrapped around his face. Jack could hear the cocky grin in his voice as he said, “Well, shall we go and see which way the wind is blowing?”

Instead of answering, Jack gave him the thumbs up and stepped out into the sandblasted courtyard. It looked like it had once been filled with thick, green landscaping, and judging by the tall, bleached out bones of the trees rising above the roof of the building, this had all once been lush forest, blasted away by wind and sand and time. In another thousand years or so, he bet this entire building would be stripped to bare stone, possibly buried by sand, and he didn’t envy the excavating and terraforming work the Hiso would have to do to get this place back into shape.

Together, they waded through the shin-deep piles and past the endless alcoves along the wall, Ignis leading by a meter or so as Jack used the shelter of his broad shoulders to avoid some of the sand whipping into his head wrap. Judging by how long they had walked indoors, Jack assumed them to be at the furthest end of a square U-shaped courtyard—a long one.

He was about to make a lame joke about this weather taking the wind out of his sails, since Ignis seemed to be into that kinda humor, when he heard a thunk and a soft curse as Ignis’s body jerked forward.

“What is it?” he called over the sound of the wind, peering over Ignis’s shoulder to see what had caught his attention.

Jack spotted and followed the incomprehensible wall of color up, up—all the way to the roof of the half collapsed and crumbling wing of the building whose clutches they couldn’t seem to escape. It took a few seconds examining the mass of leather and feathers, but something finally seemed to click, and Jack understood.

If he had to classify the creature draped and curled across the caved-in roof, he’d call it a dragon-phoenix, he guessed—with wide leathery wings the color of golden sunset edged in dusky purple ribbing, a long and scaly tail of deep plum, a long neck covered in crimson scales that looked like feathers, and a silver mask-like face ending in a sharp beak.

“Impressive,” Jack said with a whistle. Pointing at the fifteen harpoon-like weapons sticking out of the massive creature’s back just from their vantage point alone, he said, “Looks like one helluva battle.”

Ignis didn’t reply as he carefully climbed over a pile of rubble to where the bird’s head, nearly the size of Ignis himself, rested with its silver beak brushing the golden grains of sand. He crouched and reached out tentatively, his hand freezing centimeters above the shining beak before he made contact, gently running his fingers toward the pointed tip.

“You said that time was unstable on this side of the gate,” Ignis began, and Jack nodded, not knowing where this was going. “Then, if the Solheimians escaped the war with Ifrit, and this creature, and that one over there, followed soon after, would it be possible for enough time to have passed for Solheim to establish another empire before they arrived?”

Jack looked in the direction Ignis had indicated with his head as he had spoken, squinting against the flying dirt and leaves to examine the body lying on its side, a harpoon sticking up from between two of its six legs and up into its chest. Despite being half buried in dirt, the [horse’s](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/finalfantasy/images/b/ba/DFF2015_Odin.png/revision/latest?cb=20170809173615) pale coat and dark hooves capped in decorative silver flourishes glimmered in the bright sun. The gold and indigo armor glinted in the light, highlighting the contrast with its burgundy-tinged mane and tail. What unsettled Jack about the creature’s appearance, however, was the snarling sharp fangs in its mouth and the still glowing scarlet eye.

“Yeah, that’s possible. Why?”

Ignis’s attention traveled up to one of the gold-tipped horns on top of the dragon-phoenix’s head. “When we encountered Garuda, Messenger of the Winds, we suspected there was a God of the Winds. This must be the Zephyrnian’s Astral body. She’s beautiful,” he breathed in awe. “She must have sided with Ifrit and followed after Solheim in the war. I imagine when she was killed, she migrated to her Messenger body, sealed in its statue for defying them.”

The kid believed in gods? That was a little surprising, as most species with alien contact tended to turn to science and mathematics once they’d reached a certain point in development. But it wasn’t Jack’s place to say anything, so he let Ignis stroke the enormous bird and believe it was the corpse of his wind god. It wasn’t that Jack didn’t believe in creatures with elemental powers; in fact, his scans proved this thing’s corpse was the source of the weather disturbance. There were plenty of beings out there in the universe beyond his understanding—like his own goddess, the Bad Wolf, who’d turned him immortal. But he wasn’t naïve enough to believe that Rose had been anything more than a very special human being. 

“And that fellow over there? Do you recognize him?” he asked, nodding to the horse. “The God of Death, maybe?”

“What makes you say that?” Ignis asked sharply, turning to face him. Jack couldn’t fathom his expression through the swirled glass of his old aviator goggles and the tinted plastic of Ignis’s safety goggles, but he sounded upset.

Jack recited in a slow, heavy voice, “I looked, and behold, a pale horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth.”

“I’d say we’ve come close to being extinguished by all those recently, but where is that from?”

“The Bible, it’s the holy book of a popular Earth religion.”

“Mmm,” he said, turning back toward the horse. “It’s a Messenger or a High Messenger, all right—or it _was_. I can taste it. But the rather questionable book I read on Messengers mentioned an emissary of death. There was no description—only a name . . . Sleipnir, but then that would mean there’s yet another Astral unaccounted for.”

“Yep, that would be Sleipnir, all right. Old Norse says it’s the eight-legged horse of Odin . . . so, close enough. Bet your . . . Astral’s named Odin then—god of knowledge, war, and death, according to old Earth Norse mythology. Also known as the wanderer.”

“Another expert in Earth mythology?”

“Hey,” Jack barked, raising his hands in defense, “gotta know this kinda stuff in my line of work, since myth usually ends up coming to life and trying to kill me.”

Ignis stood, stretching his back and beating his hands against his jeans. “I suppose I can’t fault you there, but then where could this Odin be? Somewhere else on this planet? Escaped through another gate? Still on Eos? One of our Kings of Yore is called the Wanderer, but given what Eos went through for mixing with mortals, I highly doubt Odin and the Wanderer are one in the same.”

“Well, if he’s dead anywhere on your world and leaking power like this wind elemental is, I think you’d notice, so he’s either alive on your world or somewhere else on another world.”

“Correct, and we don’t display his image anywhere that I’m aware of. Our artistic depictions of death feature a skeletal figure draped in a black hoo . . ..” His voice grew quieter beneath the wind still blowing over Jack’s ears as he seemed to lose himself in his thoughts. “Black hood. Pitioss. There would only be one place to store an Astral body exuding death—a place where time is on a continuous loop and death is rendered meaningless.”

Jack had nothing to add to this particular portion of the dialogue, so he crossed his arms and watched as Ignis began to pace agitatedly back and forth, his hands twitching. Jack thought he could hear him muttering until he finally stopped and spun to face him.

“The massive [skull](https://i.imgur.com/55uCFrT.png) on top of the barge! But surely Laura would have noticed his corpse? . . . no! Time was disorienting her both days we were there. What an astronomical discovery! But does this mean Odin was guarding Eos’s prison? Did Sleipnir turn against his Astral? It’s a pity we have no way of finding out.”

“You know,” Jack chuckled, envisioning the tenth incarnation of the Doctor and his frenetic pacing as his mind picked at some potentially world-ending puzzle, “you remind me of an old friend.”

“And to think—tens of thousands of years it will likely take for this all to be swept away,” he said just loudly enough to be heard over the whipping wind, “for their bodies to _finally_ erode away and for the Hiso to come and rebuild what’s left of this—to transform it into the living and breathing Coruscant we only just left. Time truly does have a way of making us so very small. Even the gods bow to their mother’s power eventually.”

A shiver passed down Jack’s spine at his words, and he jammed his hands in his pockets and stared through the swirls in his old and imperfect goggles at the child still enraptured before two of his deities. This was the occupational hazard of hanging around ephemerals—the constant little reminders that he wasn’t one—that his big, stupid heart would instantly fall in love and get attached before losing even someone as young and strapping as Ignis.

Humans were so full of joie de vivre, reckless with their fragile lives, burning hot and cold, eager to consume and mate and _run_. But then they would say something funny like Ignis just had, and the façade Jack held up for even himself would slip, and he would remember. Time would never make him feel small again. For him, time itself was getting smaller with each passing day he lived through it—until one day, he would take up all of time. There would be nothing left but him and time itself.

But no matter what, Jack couldn’t give up. He’d do his best to feel that joie de vivre, to consume and mate and run right alongside them. It was all he could do, since going mad and murdering everyone like some immortals tended to do wasn’t an option for him.

Ignis let out an exasperated huff, interrupting his thoughts. “Honestly? The dramatic hero with his coat whipping back in the wind? Though the silhouette is rather impressive, the effect is somewhat lost with the headgear.”

“Oh yeah? I can inspire you with a more impressive silhouette later if you want,” he laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Ignis let his attention wander over to the two dead bodies. “There’s nothing more we can do here,” he said forlornly. “Let us return to a time and place where mortal men can still make a difference.”

***

He was half-expecting to find nothing when they reached the spot where the portal was located—set into a stone-block courtyard surrounded by heavy stone slabs covered in more of that circular writing. What could he say? It had just been a weird kinda day—pretty heavy in time and dimensional travel, even for him, and not the luckiest. He wondered what had happened to those pizzas—what part of time and space they had been dropped in if they had managed to get pulled into the Rift.

But the bronze disc, this time covered in that same circular writing he’d been seeing all day, was present and accounted for, if a little derelict, covered in a thick layer of earth and long dead leaves at the foot of a circular tower, half smashed through by the boulders from an adjacent rocky cliff.

“This must’ve been some kinda interdimensional welcoming station,” Jack said as he surveyed the area. There was something about the building looming up on the hill above their heads that smacked of the Roman Forum, with its intricately carved columns and imposing set of stone steps that led up to the towering open archway. Seriously, between the attitude behind the architecture and the fact that only Time Lords could travel between dimensions—back when they still existed—Jack was beginning to wonder if he’d just stumbled on an old Gallifreyan outpost on some backwater planets in some backwater universes somewhere. He’d have to ask the Doctor the next time they ran into each other.

He turned to the gate and ran a quick scan, wincing under his headgear as the manipulator registered the chronon readings on the other side.

“Yeah, we got a problem. Looks like if we jump in now, we’re gonna land a hundred thousand years in your past. Dunno about you, but I don’t feel up to waiting around that long to catch up.”

Far from panicking at Jack’s assessment, Ignis slipped his hand underneath his scarf and shirt collar. “Nor do I, but I believe there may be something I can do about that.”

Was Jack _finally_ gonna get to see this tech? Given the dimensionally transcendental nature of it combined with all the odd Gallifreyan references here, Jack was also beginning to wonder if this kid’s wife wasn’t a Time Lord herself. But instead of pulling out a CB radio held together by rubber bands and three plastic forks like the Doctor would have, a bright blue pendant wrapped in a silver tree was pinched between Ignis’s thumb and forefinger. There was nothing to identify its culture of origin as far as Jack could tell. In fact, it looked like the kinda thing he could buy at a new age shop back in Cardiff.

“Your wife—what species is she?”

Ignis raised his head to the sky, seeming to concentrate on something as he continued to hold the pendant between his thumb and forefinger. “Lliamérian from the planet Miriásia, though she’s spent a number of years on Earth as well.”

Which, of course, meant nothing to him, but at least the answer hadn’t been Time Lord or Gallifreyan, as he didn’t think he could handle having to tell the Doctor after everything that’d gone down with the Master that yet another member of his species had survived and was hiding out after the Time War.  

But even with his extensive travel experience, there were just too many planets, too many species out there for him to be able to recognize all of them. And who the hell knew if he’d met her lot under a different name back in his home universe? He kinda hoped she was waiting for them on the other side of this. She sounded like the kinda girl he wanted to meet—definitely sounded hot, and maybe he could work through her to get _both_ of them into bed before he got back home.

After several seconds of silence, he said, “Right. It can be done, but it may take a minute or two.”

“I got time,” he laughed. “What’re you doing with that there?”

“Establishing a stronger telepathic link with this,” he replied, gesturing with the pendant, “then reaching through the portal, alerting Laura’s dormant connection on the other side, and contacting one of her . . . friends to help us manipulate the setting on the portal. It’s . . .” Jack could hear the wry smile in his voice as he said, “complicated—with a lot of relay involved.”

“Your bond transcends _time_?”

“And space, yes, but not dimensions, which is why all the relaying is necessary—a game of telephone, if you will.”

Jack waited in silence as Ignis did his telepathy thing, a little unsettled that he was the ex-Time Agent sitting around and waiting for the equivalent of a 21st century human to complete some hairbrained scheme to get them back to where they belonged. He wasn’t used to being the one waiting to be rescued—something that was gonna be happening with him and his team as soon as he got back to the right time on the other side of this gate. Did that mean he’d officially become the damsel in distress? That could be kinda hot . . . maybe he and Ianto could concoct a little roleplaying scenario around that premise when he got back.

“All right,” Ignis sighed. “I believe she’s got it, but she can’t pull us until we’ve already entered the portal. I’m told to expect a bit of a difficult journey, but I must say I’m quite ready to be shot of this sand-blasted place.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Jack said, slapping Ignis on the back and stepping up to the gate. “I’m pretty used to a rough ride if you know what I mean.”

Jack got the sense that Ignis was rolling his eyes, judging by the way his head was rolling on his shoulders. “Here,” he said, pulling off a glove and holding out his hand. “I’m told we’ll need direct contact for this; do try to contain yourself.”

He wished Ignis could see the grin spreading over his lips as he interlaced their fingers, but he kept silent for once as they stepped onto the platform together.

Teleporting wasn’t exactly a new experience for him; he’d been teleported accidentally or on purpose at least once a week since his first time with the Time Agency at twenty years old. He’d been yanked away by natural phenomena that had killed him, like the Rift; attempted to traverse time and space with rudimentary tech, like these gates; space-hopped lightly from place to place with his vortex manipulator when it used to work; and traveled in style in a Time Lord’s TARDIS.

This was on the less pleasant end of that spectrum.

The sensation of Ignis’s warm hand in his disappeared—replaced with compression and pain as his body was sucked through a hole the size of a straw, constricting breath and blood and heartbeat and life as molten time poured into his head and seared him from the inside out. This was almost like being pulled through the time vortex stark naked.

There was something about the golden energy of the transport and the ethereal, inhuman song that floated in the non-atmosphere that reminded him of dying, but he couldn’t think why.

Slurping back into existence with a painful gasp, he whipped his head in Ignis’s direction in time to watch him crumple, and Jack leaned over to catch him by the chest and lower him to the deactivated gate.

“Easy there,” Jack advised as Ignis ripped off his goggles and scarf to take deep, heaving gasps of the fresh air.

“I’m—fine—”

“No, you’re more than fine,” Jack chuckled, taking off his own goggles and muslin and laying them on the ground next to Ignis. “You’re actually pretty hot, ya know?” Blunt emeralds glared up at him in response. “Sorry,” Jack added. “Had to tell ya once, ya know?”

“And while I’m flattered by your admiration,” he began, hauling himself to his feet, “not everyone feels the need to follow through with attraction.”

“So! You admit it! You find me attractive, huh?”

Ignis pursed his lips together, his eyes flashing as he huffed a sigh through his nose. “That’s beside the—"

“ **Ignis Scientia.** ”

Jack whirled and whipped out his pistol, aiming it toward the patch of shivering, shimmering air in the gap between the two rocks protecting the gate. The figure that morphed and coalesced into a gaseous cloud of rippling blue ribbons of light was enormous—quadruple his size and bulk. The ghostly metal armor appeared half-samurai, half robotic, with its skirt of delicate feathery chains obscuring its feet and the four segmented arms protruding at odd angles from its chest and shoulders. Ignis had mentioned the word ‘demons’ when Jack had first arrived, and this thing with its two large bullhorns sticking out of its helm certainly fit the bill, which was why Jack didn’t lower his gun, even when Ignis crossed an arm over his chest and fell into a stiff and formal bow.

“Your Majesty.”

“ **Child of Solheim** ,” the ghost-knight continued in a deep, husky voice that, frankly, sounded kinda hot. “ **Blessed and cursed with the weight of your heritage, long have you walked alone with none to shoulder the burden. With the fulfillment of your journey, you have wandered far beyond that of your fellow man. I offer you the Wanderer’s protection to honor your loyalty and dedication.** ”

“Though I no longer travel alone, I most humbly accept any protection _in addition to_ that which I’m already afforded,” Ignis said, his voice developing an edge of defiance as he continued to stare down at the ground in front of him.

“ **Then take my sigil and prosper, Son of Solheim, in the name of the King of Lucis** ,” the Wanderer replied, holding out a gauntleted hand radiating with the light of a star. Without raising his head, Ignis cupped both hands and held them out, accepting the Wanderer’s gift.

“Jack?” came a crackling static from his manipulator. Tosh—of all the times to be interrupted, but it wasn’t like it was an everyday thing for his team to reach across dimensions.

“Yeah, is it possible to hang on a sec?” Jack answered in a murmur, keeping his eyes locked on the self-proclaimed Wanderer.

Ignis’s long fingers curled around a small silver disc bearing the mark of three interlocking gold triangles, and the knight floated back a ways before disappearing in another flash of light without another word. Jack cautiously lowered his gun as Tosh answered, “A minute, maybe, but no more. It’s taking all we have to hold the Rift open, and we can only sustain it as long as you stay right in that spot for some reason. It’s the same energy signature that pulled you there in the first place.”

“You have to leave,” Ignis said softly, not making eye contact until he had straightened and turned in his direction. When Jack gave a single nod in response, Ignis held out his hand to shake. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I do hope we can meet again under better circumstances.”

“Yeah, you bet,” he lied. “Best not to bring this meeting up with me next time you see me though, just in case it hasn’t happened yet.”

“I understand.”

“All right, my team’s gonna activate the disc, so you’d better stand off to the side.” Pulling himself straight and rigid, Jack brought his hand to his forehead in a formal salute. “Goodbye, Ignis Scientia,” he said heavily, pressing the button that would send a signal through the Rift to his team. “And good luck.”   

Jack took a step back, keeping his eyes locked curiously on Ignis’s until that shift and flash of gold carried him off into death’s embrace once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I didn’t choose this planet to be Coruscant just because Star Wars, although that was fortuitous. I thought the Solheim and Coruscant skylines looked a bit similar. Another cool thing was something the characters would never be able to know: the planet seen from [space](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/1/16/Coruscant-EotE.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130908205521) looks quite a bit like what I’ve called Solheimian writing (which, canonically comes from the Oracle or Ramuh, depending whether you go by main game lore or Episode Duscae).


	88. Chapter 88

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW the end of this chapter.

Ignis leaned forward, dragging the black dualhorn-toothed comb up through the long strands that would hang down his forehead and into his eyes, but when he reached the very tips, he paused for a moment, thinking.

 _What if I combed my hair like this, instead?_ he asked Laura’s softly glowing thread slumbering in the back of his mind. He pulled back on his bangs, smoothing the tips to lay against his hair instead of sticking straight up.

Not that he was expecting an answer. The fine line that they’d had to balance between converting as many plants as possible and not draining her so much that she died meant that their bridge had remained dark and silent nearly every day for the past two years. And it wasn’t as though the inhuman mind fast asleep around his neck would be offering up fashion advice, either.

Placing the comb back on the vanity, he frowned, tilting his head this way and that as he inspected his reflection in the mirror. His customary hairstyle had grown far too youthful, too fashionable for a man that carried the considerable weight of his position, and though he had no desire to appear older when Laura at last awoke, it had grown long past the time to do this.

He could imagine her there beside him if he closed his eyes, standing on her toes to lean her chin against his shoulder and blowing soft breaths against his ear as she chuckled warmly. “I think you would look incredibly handsome,” she would say.

“Your opinion is hardly trustworthy,” he would reply haughtily. “You _always_ think that.”

Perhaps she would wrap her arms around his waist and lean into his side. With a huff of exasperation, he’d put his comb down and turn to her, raising his arm to settle around her shoulders and pulling her close to rest his lips in her hair.

“Because it’s always true,” she’d mumble into his chest.

Honestly, this was no time for fantasies.

There was one last act of rebellion he could commit against this more subdued style, miniscule as it was, to portray to the world that they had not tamed him completely. He plucked one tendril of hair from the perfectly smooth pompadour to lie straight down his forehead and near his left eye—a secret message that though he may appear to be straight-laced and mild-mannered, he wasn’t a toothless babe. He would bite back, if necessary, with ten times the strength of the original attack. It was, perhaps, too much for a single lock of hair to communicate, but as long as he knew that streak of defiance was there for all to see, at least he could feel he was representing himself genuinely. The aesthetic suited him, he believed, but he couldn’t be certain until he’d tested it in public—where it would doubtless make the front page of Vyv’s accursed papers in a matter of minutes, or even worse, _He’s Got the Look_ —one of Vyv’s magazines that had already threatened more than once to headline him and his ‘striking features.’

He curled his toes into the plush golden rug and pulled the mirror back to reach for the small bottle of painkillers he kept there, but his hand paused just before making contact with the plastic. The pulsing ache pounding at his temples and just behind his eyes had been relentless this past week since he’d pinched his bond to nearly nothing, worse than even the days after Altissia. He’d spent the last two years nursing her cherished golden thread so that it was beginning to root itself into his mind, bleeding at the edges and fusing itself into his all too willing consciousness—which was why it had nearly blinded him when it had been severed the moment that Hiso gate had closed behind him. But the past week of taking medication seemed to have done little for the pain that time itself wasn’t already doing, so he refrained. After all, how many of these pills still existed in the world?

Despite her absence, their bond had saved his life and limb more than once in the last couple of years. It had taken a year for him to find that he could access her Pocket on his own without Eilendil’s help, though he often still needed assistance retrieving things he hadn’t placed himself. Fortunately for his leg, he and the dragon had unlocked the secrets to sharing Laura’s power several months later, clumsy though he still was at wielding such a painful, draining method of casting.

Instead of looking for relief in a pill, he ducked under the sink to grab a sponge and some spray to clean the vanity before he left for the morning. A quick scrub-down and rinse completed, he turned to eye the toilet and tub. It had been far too long since the house had had a thorough cleaning, and it seemed as though his efforts to do a little in his spare moments weren’t quite enough to keep it as spotless as he preferred. The thought of hiring a maid flitted briefly though his mind, but he dismissed the thought immediately. He didn’t care for the idea of a stranger intruding on his private life to complete a task he could do himself. He would just have to try harder.

Though scrubbing the bathtub before hopping back in himself seemed like just the thing for putting his mind at ease at three o’clock in the morning, there were far more important matters to attend to before meeting with his father, such as continuing his inspection of the journal he had picked up the week before on Coruscant. He stepped into his favorite blue house slippers despite being otherwise fully dressed in his Crownsguard uniform, summoned a bottle of his favorite coffee from Laura’s Pocket, and made his way to his [desk](https://i.imgur.com/bD3l3ab.png) in the corner of their bedroom.

No matter how much he wanted to trail his fingertips over the onyx hair of the statue sitting on the corner of his desk, he refrained, recalling the number of statues he’d seen in Insomnia rubbed smooth by thousands of caresses over the years. Instead, he leaned forward in his creaking leather chair and inspected his latest, most important discovery. Ignis could only begin to speculate as to why the book had been out on the researcher’s desk the day the second Solheim fell—a research project conducted by one of the university professors on diseases that plagued the first Solheim, perhaps. Perhaps it was more pernicious—an exploration of weaponizing viruses as they had in their Eosian days to launch a more effective counterattack against the Astrals that had followed them through the gate.

It hardly mattered why, really, with both civilizations long dead. Though it seemed that the journal wouldn’t be as much of a windfall as he’d hoped, a quick perusal revealed that there would be some information here to offer guidance on what they should do to minimize this most recent horrific outbreak. Laura would be able to translate the language herself when she awoke, but since only the Oracle line was versed in circular Solheimian, he’d taken the liberty of working on a transcription to get the other ESI scientists started right away.

Of course, he couldn’t read circular Solheimian himself, either.

Ignis closed his eyes, burying himself deep into his bond until the world fell away, leaving nothing but that thrum of life and time, teeming with power and knowledge so vast that it could kill him were he to attempt to contemplate all of it at once. He sat in silence, breathing deeply, until the beat of his heart fell into perfect synchronization with Laura’s, so very far away. Like a curtain in the breeze, the veil lifted, and the golden pool of languages she shared with the TARDIS was revealed to him. Yet no matter how many times he’d done this, he could never seem to locate the right combination of the five billion languages they knew among the whirling cloud of memories.

There was nothing for it. He would require assistance—again.

 _Please forgive the intrusion,_ he called softly, reaching out to the connection Eilendil kept open for him. _Would you mind terribly pointing me in the right direction?_

With Laura’s dormant connection, Ignis had become detached from the additional layer of complexity that telepathy added to the world, but Eilendil’s presence was a soothing silver trickle at the back of his mind reminding him that no matter how difficult matters became, he was not alone in this. The dragon had proven a most comforting source of company—a companion that neither hovered nor fretted and yet had become his advisor, in a way. Like Laura, Eilendil was capable of keeping up with him and offering a different point of view, even if Ignis didn’t always agree, and he never took it personally when Ignis chose not to follow his advice.

Ignis could only hear the low, incoherent grumble of a reply as the dragon’s mind wrapped gently around his and guided him to the correct area of the pool, where circular languages such as Gallifreyan, Heptapodean, and Thrinakian resided.

The flood of information surging into his mind was always a rush—causing his heart to beat a little faster and the blood to pump through his veins as though he were on a hunt. It was unfortunate that his feeble human mind would only pull away from this experience with its usual amount of knowledge acquired, but little by little, he was learning to translate the graphemes on his own.

_Thank you for your patience in dealing with this fallible human._

_You would have fewer complications if you did not insist on adhering to your species’ need to imagine a physical location for everything._

_I do what I can._

_Then save your species, Ignis Scientia, I shall be here if I am needed._

Ignis sent another brush of thanks before pulling out his pen and opening to the first few pages of the old text. The incomparable scent of mildew, ink, and paper hit his face in a cloud as he began to read and write.

**_60120724_ **

_Oh, by the Nine, I fear that we have undertaken a task beyond our ken. Our patient efforts to assist in keeping the Golden Mother alive paid off—allowing us to utilize just enough of her power to light our facilities and create the puzzle of time and space that is Pitioss without the gods’ awareness—until Ifrit somehow discovered that Costlemark was more than what it seemed. He became enraged, hurling down a shower of meteors that have nearly destroyed the Archaean and the planet along with it. Our beloved sundial, crown of the kingdom of Solheim, is now a scar upon the planet, devoid of all life in a great sweeping circle in the middle of the continent. Reports say that death began to spread before the meteor fell, but I cannot see how such a weapon would be possible. Is this our just punishment for seeking the power of the gods?_

**_60140802_ **

_No longer do I have the time to write at my leisure as I once did. We are at war—a war we are sure to lose with the passage of time. Already our grand towers and centers of learning have been razed, our population suffering as all civil services make way for the battle. I fear we should not have challenged the gods so blatantly, for now we shall surely perish. Even the other Six have forsaken us._

**_60220327_ **

_I have an audience with the Queen regarding an ongoing secret research project that she requires my assistance with. I can only hope that whatever it is will bring peace between god and man once more. Yet I fear for this upcoming encounter. They say the Queen has the power to sway even the most wayward of hearts, and after she managed to convince us to turn on our Golden Mother, I am beginning to believe it._

_Whatever she commands, I take some comfort in the fact that Queen Flamma Scientia’s brother remains vehemently against the actions we have taken._

Ignis’s fingers stuttered on the page for a moment, the shimmering ink from his pen pooling onto the paper as he took in the words. For all that his mother was constantly insisting that his third name was indicative of royal heritage, he’d never truly believed her, as he’d never come across any evidence to indicate it as such in his studies. He’d given the matter little thought since she’d informed him of his royal title, choosing instead to continue with his commoner name. Relations with the people were delicate enough as it was without him claiming himself ancient royalty.

Seeing the evidence written here clearly, however . . . all those years, he’d lain awake in his little bed wishing with all his will to be something more than he was, aspiring to become something more and earn his place in Lucis. He’d truly believed that entire time that he was nothing more than a servant from a family of lower nobility that had had the good fortune to be granted royal retainership.

The press, not to mention the already fractious people, would go mad at this news. It would be for the best, most certainly, if he kept this information between himself and Laura.

Shifting back to his source materials, he continued translating.

**_60220328_ **

_May the gods forgive me for what I am about to do._

**_60270616_ **

_The elements of the disease we have decided to call Starscourge are truly simpler than I could have imagined. Many have existed on the planet since the dawn of man; it is only a matter of combining them correctly. The only otherworldly component of this disease comes from the very meteor that Ifrit sent down on our sundial. How coincidental that his demise should be brought from an act of his hubris!_

_We’ve termed this dark substance Voidmatter, and it exhibits the ability to infect gods and humans alike with violence and madness, leaving the rational mind unguarded and open to suggestion. It is able to thrive and grow stronger in darkness, a state which it attempts to create by releasing photophilic particles to absorb light. Given the Golden Mother’s current location in the dark beneath the sundial, it is the perfect element to add to the others to complete the virus._

_Tomorrow, I am being reassigned to a new team, as my superiors are moving on to another top-secret project. They assure me that all is well, and yet even their children have packed all their things. I do not know what to think of these developments._

**_60321130_ **

_I despise this shack outside that provincial chocobo sty they have the nerve to call a town, and yet this is the safest place to conduct our research without drawing Ifrit’s attention._

_Perhaps it’s merely my imagination, but people are disappearing, and only idiots make up those that remain. I was required to travel all the way to the meteor site for additional samples last week, and those left of our once proud civilization are merely farmers and vagrants. Their offspring are barely educated enough to read and write. Not that it matters. Evidence of our civilization has nearly been wiped clean by Ifrit—our vast libraries and stores of knowledge either burned or disappeared along with the best and brightest of our society. Though admittedly, the Zephyrnian, Necronian, and Astronian have not been seen above ground for thousands of years, these country folk are teaching their children of the Six instead of the Nine! Truly, I begin to wonder if our people are worth saving. They don’t even consider themselves a part of the kingdom of Solheim._

_Our primary researcher on the project knows far less of what he is doing than those on my last collaboration. Fortunately, the virus itself is completed. We have only to find a suitable vehicle for delivering it deep below the planet’s crust. All attempts thus far have been stymied by the pesky Archaean, even trapped under his meteor as he is. That it has taken the same civilization that created Pitioss this long to come up with a solution speaks to just how far we have fallen. Meanwhile, more good men and women are lost in this war._

**_60391130_ **

_Decades has it been since this war began, and yet we no longer look forward for answers as we once did. It was in looking backward that we finally found the solution for creating a vehicle to transmit the Starscourge to Eos—nipmoths. These biting insects are a previously undiscovered natural source for malarial plasmodia, however._

_Brutus insists that we handle this malaria before infecting the swarm and sending them down the shaft of light to the goddess. I must admit this is not my area of expertise, but I must trust his judgment, as he is the only senior scientist left._

**_60400606_ **

_The Queen commanded we release our weapon today. Clearly, the Astrals cannot be trusted._

_It is done._

**_60400817_ **

_Praise be! Four of the Six have joined the fray against Ifrit._

**_60440301_ **

_The Goddess sleeps_

_And her children start a fire,_

_Which they cannot extinguish,_

_And she will never be able to awaken._

_Every tragedy divides,_

_Before our very eyes,_

_Those things which ought to be loved._

_And through this endless night,_

_In despair,_

_She can see the dawn,_

_Which will awake her the next morning._

**_60440523_ **

_It is only with the disappearance of the Queen that I can fully feel the horror of what we have done. Under her brother’s guidance, I am left to find a cure for that which we have created—an impossible undertaking, even with my previous notes from my first team so many years ago. The supernatural quality of the virus guarantees I will be unable to find one. Reviewing all our documents, I cannot see where we went wrong in its construction. All tests of Voidmatter exhibited no signs of transformative properties, and yet men are becoming monsters before my very eyes._

_I must seek penance in dedicating the rest of my life to finding the cure, or I, too, will fall prey to my own creation._

**_60450115_ **

_The Starscourge has rapidly settled into the natural cycles of the planet’s ecosystem. As such, there are now several natural sources for the disease that I can tell:_

  * _Nipmoths—found around sources of light in the darkness_
  * _Bacterial columns—nests of plasmodium bacteria that release the miasma into the soil and water_
  * _Daemons—miasmal particles seeping into the ground upon death_



_Venturing out at night has become a dangerous endeavor, despite the nearly non-existent population. Still, I must either work to find a cure or be lost among those infected._

**_60450523_ **

_I believe I have discovered and outlined all the ways the virus can be transmitted:_

  * _Source to Animal: Bacterial columns infects plants, animals, and insects in the area, causing mutations but not active transformation. Consuming tainted products will not cause a human to transform._
  * _Animal to Wild Nipmoth: Passed from the animal to the uninfected wild nipmoths through the blood via biting. Starscourge becomes fully active at this point in the life cycle, capable of transforming a human when it is passed on._
  * _Nipmoth to Human: The transformative disease is passed to humans via biting._
  * _Human to Human: Transformative Starscourge can be passed from human to human via exchange of bodily fluids (e.g., blood, semen, saliva entering the bloodstream)._
  * _Daemon to Human: Passed through biting and scourge entering open wounds._
  * _Daemon to Source: Non-transformative scourge seeps into the ground upon daemon death._



_I have my doubts about the Queen’s brother, who refuses to rule in the missing Queen’s stead. He claims that we have earned our just rewards for defying the gods. He speaks as though he maintains loyalty to Ifrit . . . after all that has happened!_

_I don’t know what to believe anymore._

**_60450727_ **

_Imagine my horror upon discovering that every man, woman, and child I have tested thus far houses elements of my disease. All that remains is for the right set of circumstances for them to contract the transformative version to turn them into monsters. Fortunately, not all who have come into contact with the transformative virus have contracted it. Here is what I have learned so far:_

_Incubation of the virus seems to be between 20 and 50 days, with 30 days being the average. Varying latency periods has made determining transmission and incubation periods difficult to pin down._

_Some natural immunity has already been observed in the population; however, as proper testing has yet to be conducted, evidence of immunity is purely anecdotal._

  * _Symptomatic infection is dependent on viral load received and natural immunity_
  * _State of brain chemistry is suspected variable in whether patient succumbs_
  * _Young children, infirm, and elderly are more prone to contracting the disease_
  * _Those with high levels of asymptomatic scourge are more prone to developing the transformative disease upon exposure to it_



_Rumors of a man in Caem able to miraculously heal the scourge with nothing but his hands have been brought to my attention, but these superstitious provincials have created a thousand myths already to explain what has happened to them._

**_60451016_ **

_Brutus has informed me that for years, our people have been disappearing through secret interdimensional gates opened up in an attempt to escape Ifrit. Should I wish, I am permitted to accompany him the next time it is arranged for these gates to be activated._

_The danger here on Eos has become too great. I know not of this technology nor where this gate leads, but I must take my chances for the start of a new life._

**_????????_ **

_I deserved this._

A chill passed over Ignis’s skin as he carefully laid the pen down on his desk and sat back in his chair, absentmindedly spinning his wedding band around his finger with his thumb. It was impossible to say whether this man had made it through the gate before or after the arrival of Sleipnir and the Zephyrnian, but the results were the same. Whether or not he deserved his punishment . . . well, Ignis would leave that up to fate to decide.

Reaching up under his glasses with his knuckles to rub at his bleary eyes, he instead focused on what could be used in the here and now to save his innocent people. He could institute a few public policies from this that they hadn’t been employing already—mainly to protect children and elderly from exposure. Reduction of consumption of meat from mutated animals was already long-placed into practice, as was avoiding daemons and the nidus nests. As far as [nipmoths](https://i.imgur.com/qnwooyD.png) went, he’d only seen a few hovering around lights in caves and tunnels like Keycatrich Mines, so he tended to doubt they were a major contributor to the problem.

Daemon bites, however . . . now there was an issue. He himself had been bitten on many occasions, in addition to everyone in the retinue and many Guardians he knew. Either the researcher was wrong, or there were other factors at play here.

A sudden chime interrupted his concentration, jarring him back into reality and forcing him to reluctantly lower his hands, which had migrated to massage his still-throbbing temples. He glanced over at the clock—seven a.m.—time to meet with his father. Ignis stood from his desk, letting his eyes linger on his wife’s statue as he threw his shoulders back and stretched his hands high above his head.

He reached out a careful finger to curl around the curve of her chin—just this once—before deciding he would make himself a fresh cup of coffee in the kitchen before he left. His steps faltered at the bottom of the stairs, however, as her thread brightened ever so slightly in response before growing dull again. It would be a matter of days now before she awoke; he could feel it in his blood. With any luck, he could gather enough work today to take out to Myrl and be with her.

With any luck.

He’d changed his house slippers out for his shoes, poured his freshly-made coffee into a travel mug, and was closing his front door behind him when someone let out a little cough from just around the corner. Ignis froze, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments to enjoy this final second of solitude before the constant barrage began. When he saw who had intruded on these last moments of quiet, however, his mood shifted to surprise.

“Gladio,” he greeted with a nod.

“Hey. How’s your leg doing?”

The truth was that though he’d been declared medically sound, his left knee still ached whenever he relied on it for running too far or too long. He would certainly need to have Laura at least take a look at it when she herself had recovered, as an injured limb wasn’t something he could afford to have as a weakness in battle.

But this was not a confession meant for Gladio. “My leg is recovering well, thank you for asking. I take it this isn’t a social call?”

“Kinda hard to get ahold of you these days,” he said, frowning a little. “Figured it would waste less of your time than a written report if I just tell you on the way to your office. Got some stuff Sania wanted to pass on, too.”

“An interesting relationship you two have developed.”

“Hey, she’s got a lotta knowledge about a lotta stuff,” he said with a grin, but then grew serious. “I know you heard when I got back, but I wanted to tell you the details myself. It’s done. Y’jhimei ended up staying behind in Eorzea, even though she’s gonna have to relive a year, so I got some help from Sania and Kimya with sealing off Pitioss so he can’t get to it again. Sun’s gonna get too weak soon for it to open up anyway.”

 “I’m glad to hear about Y’jhimei. There’s no sense in her getting infected with the rest of us. As for Sania—I hope you didn’t distract her for too long. She’s doing important work collecting soil, water, and animal samples for us. Who did you leave at Myrl?”

“I sent Dustin and Iris out there. They took care of . . . things while Kimya was away.”

Ignis shivered a little in his jacket, grateful he’d thought to put it on, as even the typically sweltering climate and heat from the still-burning meteor crater Lestallum had been built on wasn’t enough to keep the city warm with their weakening sun.

“Very good. Now that my studies on Solheim are complete, I can see about investigating the tombs of the Old Kings.”

Gladio’s voice dropped to a murmur. “Did you manage to get anything outta Solheim?”

“Scant information on the scourge, a passing reference to Ardyn, but nothing on circumventing the prophecy, though that was to be expected. The people come first in this matter, but I’ve done all I can on that front.” Watching Gladio’s neutral expression carefully, Ignis added, “Perhaps Iris and Talcott would care to tag along with me to the tombs. They’ve both proven an adeptness at archaeology and the blade.”

“You know how I feel about it. Cor’s being unreasonable with Iris. You’ll take care of ‘em, and they need to learn.” He sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair, which he seemed to be neglecting in cutting short these days.

“I’ve thought about offering her additional instruction, if she’s amenable. If she can manage to keep that rather ferocious temper of hers under control, she’s displayed evidence of shrewd negotiating skills and business acumen.” When Gladio didn’t respond, Ignis looked over at him, noting that his attention seemed to have wandered. “Are you all right?” he asked, his steps slowing a little as he nodded a greeting to a passing Navyth.

The fisherman grunted out a greeting as he struggled under the weight of two heavy buckets, most likely filled with live fish for someone’s farm. “Please give my regards to your niece should you see her,” Ignis called out.

“Coctura’s been busy since EXINERIS opened up Galdin,” Navyth replied over his shoulder. “But I’ll let her know.”

Gladio waited until they’d entered the main square, where Ignis kept to the darker, covered sidewalk that passed by Surgate’s so as to reduce the chances of being recognized.

“It’s not me; it’s Prompto. Aww, shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair again. “I didn’t wanna add any more to your plate.”

“We’re on borrowed time here. I suggest you speak frankly and quickly.” There simply weren’t enough hours in the day anymore, or night, it would seem, for him to mince words. Along with Laura’s assistance, he’d lost the ability to work while he slept, so sleep had once again taken a lower priority as more and more responsibilities had been heaped on him. Perhaps it was beginning to give him a reputation for being cold as it had back in Insomnia, as Gladio jerked his head in Ignis’s direction to narrow his eyes at him.

“Well, he handled the Kenny mission like he said he would. Said Johnny’s sold those costumes to a few people, some Glaives, but he didn’t know who they were. And I had a thought—you don’t think with all his Glaive powers and shit that he could be Ardyn, do you?”

“I don’t see why he would be, given that he doesn’t need a suit to disguise himself.”

“Libertus has a theory. Swears it’s Nyx Ulric revived by the gods, but he’s too recognizable now to show his face, so he wears the costume.”

He stopped speaking for a moment as they quickly crossed the main thoroughfare out of the city, and Ignis ushered Gladio to the far side, closer to the shadow of the buildings as they walked. With any luck, he could make it all the way to the Council headquarters without being recognized this morning.

“If gods were capable of bringing people back to life, then the need to step in and protect humanity during the Astral war would have been null and void. Eccentric Glaives are the least of my concerns at the moment. What of Prompto?”

“I’ve talked to him about disappearing with that girl too much, but I don’t think it’s working. He was s’posed to report to Wiz yesterday to start that war-chocobo training program. Never showed. Finally got a hold of him, and he was weird about his whereabouts. Think he’s lyin’.”

Ignis let out a small groan in the back of his throat. While he knew only too well how easily one could be swept away by a fledgling romance, this was no time to neglect one’s duties. “See if you can get him to stop by the office for a chat. Face to face is the best way to get a read on him. But I may be away for a few days after today.”

“A mission?”

“The farm.”

“Is it time? Sania wanted me to tell you she thinks she’s got a complete seed catalog now for her to store when she wakes up, and Aranea’s done with her freezing thing with this last trip.”

He’d already known of Aranea’s final mission out to Niflheim—both to drop off a load of specimens and genetic samples for cryo and to pick up any equipment from Verstael’s labs that would be helpful in studying the scourge—but he nodded his thanks regardless. “I do believe it’s time, yes, though it will likely be another week or two before she’s able to get to work. Still, I intend to bring her back and look after her here.”

“Thank fuck. I know you been doin’ the best you can, but, you know how I feel about this ‘Quarantine’ shit.”

“It’s not as though I was ever thrilled about the solution, but the Council and I do our best to work with what we have.” He let his voice grow hard as he warned, “Don’t expect her to solve all our problems for us overnight. She may not be human, but she’s still a fallible being.”

“I know, I know. She’s not a god,” he sighed. “And what about Aranea? You gonna suck her into all that Council garbage? You know she’d be no good for that. She’s better off in the field.”

“Personally, I agree, but who would you have me ask? Certainly not Loqi. He’s far too immature. But it’s best you leave the decision up to her, as it should be. We’re having trouble as it is with Accordo. The people here are growing weary of representation by proxy, and the First Secretary has insisted on staying behind to captain her ship.”

“Can’t fault her for that.”

“No, I cannot. I expect ruffled feathers to be somewhat smoothed once Weskham arrives to represent the immigrants on her behalf. He may be unfamiliar with operations here now, but I’ve no doubt he can be brought into the fold quickly, as he was originally from Keycatrich.”

“You!” a woman shouted from across the street.

Gods damn it, and they had made it so far. They had reached the end of the main thoroughfare, just across from the apothecary where there were no shadows to hide in. But of course, a disadvantage to being seen in public with Gladio was that his silhouette had a tendency to draw one’s gaze even in the dark.

“What—” Gladio began.

“Whatever happens, just keep walking, and don’t say a word. Believe me, nothing good ever comes from allowing an exchange,” Ignis replied under his breath, quickly turning the corner out onto the main road that ran between Lestallum proper and the Outlook District. But as much as he wished he could avoid yet another confrontation in the street, the hurried footsteps slapping on the pavement behind him meant that he would have no such luck this morning.

“What right did you have to take him away? What did my father ever do to you?! He was a good man!”

Ignis hurried along the alcoves, picking up the pace as they drew nearer to the far end of the block, where he knew the woman would stop following.

But it appeared she already had as they rushed closer toward the guarded wall and gate that led out of the city. Her voice grew hoarse and further away as the distance between them increased. “But what would you know? You’ve never loved anyone in your life, have you? Except your precious little prince, and he’s gone, isn’t he? You didn’t even give a shit when your own wife died!”

When it became clear the woman had nothing more to add, Gladio turned his head to look back cautiously, but Ignis kept his eyes locked on the cracked pavement passing underneath his feet. “How can you just . . . shrug that off?”

“What else can I do? I have no right to confront her. Setting the record straight would only endanger Laura’s life, and technically, I _am_ responsible for her loss, even if she hasn’t yet accepted that she had already lost her father when he fell prey to the disease.”

“So,” Gladio added casually, “guess you’ve heard the rumors, then.”

“Don’t tell me this is the first you’re hearing of them.”

“Last week, before I came and got you.”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” he sighed, continuing past the columned façade of the building and toward the blockade.

“Yeah, I guess . . . me neither. Heard ‘Ice Cold Scientia’ all the time back home—even the thing with you and Noct once or twice.”

Without looking over, Ignis raised an eyebrow, his mouth shrugging into a frown of disapproval. He’d heard the rumors as well—overworked, obsessive, perfectionist Ice Cold Ignis Scientia. He could only be doing what he did for the Prince if he were in love with the boy romantically. Surely, with as many times as Gladio had attempted to set him up with some sort of horrid romantic partner, he’d never believed . . ..

“I never believed that one, ya know,” he said as though answering Ignis’s unspoken question, “as much as he was always pissing you off. Plus . . . always figured you’d be the type to go for someone more self-sufficient. But I always did wonder why you never wavered in spite of that. Still don’t really understand, even after your explanation in Zegnautus.”

Was it truly so difficult? Ignis had grown up with no one, save the Prince. His king and greatest hero at the time had asked him personally to care for the boy, so he had cared for him to the very best of his ability, throwing himself into the task with heart, head, and soul as he’d never done with anything or anyone else—despite his ever-increasing frustration at Noct behaving like a finicky, awkward, and recalcitrant child far beyond his teen years. If Ignis had given up, lost faith in the _one_ boy destined to save the world, what would he have had left?

But their relationship was complicated—to the point where he often didn’t understand it himself. Ignis loved Noct as his liege, as his child, as his brother; he couldn’t even put a name to the type of love he held in his heart for the boy, but though it was different from the love he held for Laura, it was no less deep and complex—albeit perhaps laced with irritation and the slightest stabs of bitterness at Noct’s ungratefulness and apathy. Though his estimation of the King, of Lucis, of even Laura had needed to fall to less idealistic levels once he’d left the safety of the Wall and obtained a different outlook of the world, Ignis had _always_ felt he had a realistic, if somewhat consternated, view of who Noct was. Liegehood, parenthood, brotherhood wasn’t perfect.

If Gladio couldn’t relate to that after all these years, Ignis didn’t believe he ever would.

“Any other news?”

Gladio grunted out a single laugh before taking the hint. “Let’s see—got restaurant owners sending veggie scraps out to Cauthess, Old Lestallum, Hammerhead, and anyone with a chocobo for feeding. Wiz is eager to start training with Prompto, but he’d prefer ‘em all in one place to do that. Thinks the Guardians could use the quieter transpo, especially with the gas shortages.”

“I’ll see if I can persuade EXINERIS to get started on a route to Caem. It would be the perfect place with the additional protection, but Hunter HQ takes priority, I’m afraid. We need to get a line out to Myrl.”

“He wanted to keep ‘em in Aracheole or Tollhends, but I told him all the bases we got access to are either picked apart or packed with livestock.”

“I do hope you told him not to share that information with anyone.”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like some people haven’t figured it out yet, but the fewer people that know . . ..”

“The better,” Ignis agreed.

When they reached the end of the block, he craned his neck in an attempt to catch sight of the Saturn Pride sign displayed proudly on top of the building across from the Council headquarters and Guardian training building. It seemed that no matter how many times they used to pass it, Rose would grin up at him and make some sort of joke about being back on Earth. He couldn’t see it today, however, hugging the wall behind Gladio as he was, but that didn’t prevent the image of her bright smile from flashing through his mind.

“You meetin’ with your dad today?” Gladio asked as they approached Council headquarters.

“Now, as a matter of fact.”

“All right. I gotta go do some work for Holly, but say ‘hi’ to him for me, will ya? Awesome new ‘do, by the way, Your Majesty,” he chuckled, throwing a hand over his shoulder as he turned back toward the main street.

“I’ve asked you repeatedly to stop calling me that,” Ignis called back, but Gladio either hadn’t heard him or hadn’t cared, as he continued to stroll up the main road. Ignis rolled his eyes and turned to unlock the right of the two front doors.

The stars seemed to have aligned when it came to choosing a [building](https://i.imgur.com/ds1Julm.png) that would essentially house the world’s government. The former Cotton Alley packaging facility had been closed for some time and was ideally suited for adapting for residential purposes. However, located as it was on the far corner of the town and accessible only from a side street off the main road, the two-story building attached to the long, low warehouse felt vulnerable to the populace somehow. Ignis and the other delegates had never felt particularly unsafe in their offices, not only because Ignis was far more than capable of defending himself, but the warehouse, which had been converted into two sparring rooms and a bunk room for visiting Guardians, was nearly always playing host to capable warriors.

Ignis eyed the stairs that led up to his office longingly, wishing he could have a few more quiet moments alone as he preferred most mornings. He’d certainly had enough coffee to be conscious—for which he should be grateful, as coffee was one of the few luxuries not typically afforded the general populace—but he hadn’t yet had quite enough of his second helping to be handling his father’s particular brand of ‘meeting.’

Ignis made his way to the back of the administrative portion of the building and opened the door to the Guardian training facility.

His father was already in the first room, of course, a pearl-handled rapier in hand. Ignis shut the door quietly behind him and leaned against the far wall to watch him work in the wide-open space. He appeared thoroughly professional in black wool trousers and a white button-down, but he moved freely as he lunged forward, testing the weight of the blade in his hand as he let it fall a little before bringing it level.

As many times as they’d endured this together, Ignis had never thought to ask. “Surely you don’t intend to use that rapier in the field should you be attacked? I don’t recommend it for the sort of world we live in today,” he remarked from the wall, and Venetus dropped the sword to his side, straightening as he turned to face Ignis. “A sturdier, more versatile blade will serve you better against the many armored daemons one can encounter. You’re more likely to draw first blood with a rapier, but the chances of incapacitating your enemy with such a blade are greatly reduced.”

“Hmm,” Venetus said, frowning down at the sword in his hand. “This is all I have, all I know. It is our heritage.”

“I’m disappointed they’ve allowed you to train with one for this long. I’ll speak to Gladio about his officers later. In the meantime, I’ll see about procuring you a more suitable weapon—perhaps a saber similar to Lord Ravus’s. Or if you’ve grown used to stabbing, perhaps a polearm.”

“If my chances are as bleak as you claim, then what choice do I have?” he asked, strolling to the shelf where the rubber safety tips were kept. He casually applied one to the tip of his sword before remarking, “Though . . . it has been quite some time since you’ve proven yourself among the ranks, from what I hear.”

“I have nothing I need prove to anyone,” Ignis replied coolly. Though perhaps somewhat contrary to his words, he summoned a genji blade—quite similar to that which Gilgamesh had gifted to Gladio—with a flick of his wrist. He would always prefer his lance and daggers for speed on the field, but he also found he rather enjoyed the hefty weight and power behind the katana. The fact that it would set a perfect example to prove his point to his father certainly had nothing to do with his choice this morning.

“We need to take action against the increasing segregation issue in Lestallum,” his father said. “Reports coming in from the subcouncils in the outposts are reporting similar problems. I’ve put it on the docket this afternoon, after we’ve voted.”

Venetus came to stand in the middle of the floor in front of him, holding his rapier out at the ready, and Ignis brought his own blade up to brush steel against steel.

“I’ve already mentioned to the First Secretary that desegregating recreational activities would go a long way in establishing cross-national relations. Let us begin with your forms.”

“I know those already. Must we start with them every time we do this?”

“It’s best to begin any spar with a brief warmup. To which vote are you referring?”

He regretted the words as soon as they had left his lips; clearly he’d forgotten to whom he was speaking. Though his father’s judgment wasn’t malevolent, the victory followed by disappointment that flashed across his features sent an all-too-familiar stab of self-loathing through Ignis that reminded him far too much of his youth as he was judged to be found wanting.

First blood drawn, indeed.

“Perhaps if you spent a little more time performing your _assigned_ duties rather than running off to play adventurer, you wouldn’t miss these discussions,” Venetus remarked as he brought his blade into Leaf on the Breeze position, his posture wide, but not quite wide enough.

Ignis nodded at his father’s feet, calling attention to the direction his toes were pointing, before fluidly mirroring his position and biting back, “My duties encompass far more than you realize. What vote?”

Venetus slashed his blade across his body in River of Light, and Ignis quickly countered with Rain in High Wind to parry the blow that the rapier wasn’t meant to deliver. “Whether or not the Council should enforce the death penalty for those failing to submit a known infected person to Quarantine.”

“Are you mad?!” Ignis demanded, meeting the rapier perhaps somewhat too forcefully as he flicked it away. “We barely have the support of the people as it is, and need I remind you that there’s an apocalypse on? We can hardly afford to be losing more of the dwindling population.”

“For the record, I’m against it, but many members of the subcouncils are calling for a vote,” he said, attempting to bat the heavier sword aside unsuccessfully. His movements picked up speed as he fell from Arc of the Moon to Tower of Morning and continued. “You can also expect to discuss birth control today. The people are beginning to grow concerned that it’s getting more difficult to obtain.”

Ignis met his father’s grey-blue eyes warily as he parried an advance before twisting away. They didn’t seem to be practicing forms anymore as they seamlessly transitioned into a somewhat heated duel, and he knew the topic his father really wished to discuss was near at hand. It would only be a matter of minutes before he circled around to it.

“Niflians and Accordions tend to grow concerned at any sort of news, as they’re accustomed to propaganda telling them everything is all right,” he said lightly, spinning to the side and ducking a thrust to the shoulder. “But it’s to be expected that any sort of manufacturing will all but cease, and all consumable goods beyond food will become rare commodities.”

“Let me remind you that Lucis was not without its own propaganda. And let us be honest: the loss of birth control will encourage some population growth to recoup our losses.”

“Not to mention encourage sexually transmitted diseases,” Ignis muttered under his breath, lunging for his father’s left side to indicate an opening, but he didn’t attempt to score a point just yet.

Venetus advanced, aiming for Ignis’s chest, but Ignis easily evaded the blade by leaping lightly to the side, carefully reaching out to touch the tip of his katana to his father’s ribs—first point.

“Perhaps that cold marriage bed of yours is useful for something after all,” Venetus remarked, taking several steps back to inspect his shirt for a tear, which, of course, there was none. “Honestly, sitting between two thrones as you are, when will you do your duty? You are of royal blood, my son; House Étoile and House Scientia are too prestigious to end with you.”

And there it was. The only unpredicted aspect of this conversation was that his father had included the salacious rumors surrounding his wife’s disappearance this time, but the topic of children seemed to come up nearly every time he and his parents were alone together. He’d thought that every aspect of his life had been dictated by his duties to the Crown while growing up in the Citadel, but this gnawing irritation that stirred in his belly every time this subject came up proved that he’d been wrong. He wasn’t accustomed to what little private life he had being open for discussion and judgment, and while Noct had technically had the right, he’d never expressed any interest in doing so, thank heavens.

This aggravation wasn’t the picture he’d carried in his mind all these years of familial bonding.

“My marriage bed is none of your concern,” he growled, assuming his ready stance once more, but his father didn’t attack, choosing instead to stand back and analyze.

Ignis recognized the tactic well and wondered just how much of an opponent’s fighting style was genetic. But extensive training to undo his natural inclinations as well as a thorough understanding of the weaknesses of his old habits meant that he knew exactly what to do to throw his father off balance. Ignis advanced swiftly, bringing the long blade in far closer than it was meant to be used to defend Venetus’s attempts at stabbing him into submission.

His father’s eyes widened as his every attack was either met with a graceful dodge or an immediate counterattack, retreating with every maneuver, and when Ignis finally had him backed against the painted white brick, he used his free hand to pin his father’s sword hand against the wall and brought his other forearm up to press threateningly across his throat.

“As I stated before,” he hissed coldly. “I have nothing to prove.”

Venetus glared back, a lock of slicked-back grey-blonde hair falling into his right eye as he breathed against Ignis’s hold on him. “If you refuse to continue the line, then it falls to me to compensate. Would you truly ask that of me?”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked in surprise, not completely certain what his father was suggesting.

“To ask your mother to endure such a trial as childbirth at her age would be cruel. I almost lost her the first time. Laura is still young. It would be far easier on the two of you.”

Ignis flexed subtly against his father’s throat. “I won’t dictate your procreation habits so long as you stay out of mine.”

“Stubborn and unwilling to see reason, I see, just like your mother,” he sighed, shaking his head the best he could against his son’s arm.

The creak of the door opening behind them forced Ignis take a sudden step back, dismissing his katana and whirling to identify who had caught them in this potentially compromising position. Given the specifics of this situation, however, he supposed it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that the King of Tenebrae and the Lord Protector of Lucis could become too engrossed in a sparring match.

Fortunately, the intruder was only Libertus.

“Uhhh, sorry, am I interrupting something?” Libertus asked, his eyes darting between the two of them as he tugged nervously at his Kingsglaive coat sleeve.

“Not at all. We were just finishing,” Ignis answered smoothly. “Your timing is quite fortunate, in fact, as I wished to discuss with you the possibility of receiving some training on Glaive magic.”

“Oh, didn’t know any of you Crownsguard besides Cor could . . . I mean, sure, Your Grace. Any particular branch?”

“All of it, if you wouldn’t mind: warping, hardcasting, shielding. I do have some experience hardcasting, though not with the potency of you Glaives.”

“Yeah. Tell you what—Luke’s in charge of your calendar, right? I’ll get with Delilah, Luca, even Gutsco can teach you a thing or two, and schedule you . . . say, three sessions a week?”

“It would be best not to schedule them too regularly or far out,” Ignis said, nodding to Libertus as he headed for the door. “But please inform Luke to fill the first two slots I have available for you, thank you.”

“Just a moment, Duke,” his father called after him, his stride lengthening to meet him at the door. “I request one more moment of your time.”

“Very well,” Ignis sighed before turning to Libertus. “Thank you for your time.”

“Yeah, sure thing, Your Grace.”

As they made their way to the front of the administrative building, Venetus pulled on his jacket and reached into his pocket, drawing out an envelope. “Her Majesty has completed the review of the documents taken from Besithia’s lab during Mr. Argentum’s visit,” he began, passing the envelope over. “Another reason to preserve your family name: long has it been held a family secret that the first Ignis Scientia was blessed by Ifrit himself with that name. Though we have no proof, we suspect that this report refers to him as—"

“The first King of Solheim, I know,” Ignis interrupted as his eyes seemed to zero in on the [relevant section](https://i.imgur.com/M3k9QRD.png) immediately.

_According to legend, the fire god Ifrit first bestowed his ‘burning wisdom’ upon a man who later sat the throne of Solheim._

But of course, Verstael Besithia would not have known to translate circular Solheimian into Latin, which didn’t truly exist on this world. And of course, his mother would not have realized that she, and likely every other firstborn of their family, possessed a name that meant ‘fire knowledge,’ quite similar to ‘burning wisdom.’ This was more proof of their royal bloodline than she could realize.

“I would prefer this kept quiet.”

They stopped at the base of the carpeted wooden staircase just next to the front door, and Venetus pursed his lips in disapproval. “You keep far too much of yourself quiet, I fear. Proving your pedigree would go a long way to establishing authority over a reluctant people.”

“I have more than enough experience dealing with the vicious whims of a doubtful populace, Your Majesty, far more than those who have remained hidden in the shadows, in fact,” he added, and though it was disgraceful of him, he couldn’t help but smirk in victory at the color that rose in his father’s pale cheeks. “I have work to do. I’ll see you at the Council meeting?”

Venetus turned toward the door and let his hand linger on the handle, not looking back to meet his son’s eyes. “That is, if you haven’t run off, certainly,” he said in a clipped tone before pulling the door open. “And you should make arrangements to visit Her Majesty. One of the Glaives informed her that she possesses an aptitude for spiritual magic, and you are uniquely-versed in the art.”

“I’ll set aside some time.”

“See that you do,” he said shortly, just as the door swung closed behind him.

Alone in the foyer, Ignis took a brief moment to collect himself—leaning his head back against the wall, closing his eyes, and letting out a long breath. Honestly, he shouldn’t have allowed his temper to get the better of him. He ran his thumb and forefinger up the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up and pressing against his throbbing headache. He’d be needing another cup of coffee if he was to make it to this meeting in four hours, and if he wasn’t in his office within the next five minutes, everyone would begin arriving and harassing him for some errand or another before he even had a chance to settle in and read the reports from the outposts.

It was clear that the few seconds’ leisure he’d carved out for himself would need to be put on hold the moment he opened his door, took a single muffled step onto the rug Laura had given him, and spotted what, or who, rather, was draped across his desk like a pinup girl in one of Gladio’s swimsuit magazines.

“Hello there!” Ardyn greeted jovially, flipping casually through one of the non-sensitive reports Ignis had left on his desk the previous evening. “See anything you like?”

Ignis hurriedly shut the door behind him and summoned a Therinal dagger to his hand—just in case. “What do you want?”

He propped his chin up on his hand. “Why, I’ve come to pay you a visit, of course! With your wife having been away for _so_ long, I thought you could use the company.”

“Spare me your lewd sense of humor. I _was_ hoping for a battle of wits, at the very least, but it would hardly be good form of me to attack a man so utterly unarmed.”

“I wasn’t hoping for a battle at all, in fact,” he drawled lazily. Pausing suddenly, he whipped his legs around to come to a sitting position in the middle of Ignis’s desk. “I’ve already had a gun pointed to my head once in the last day.”

“Such a pity they didn’t pull the trigger,” he retorted, but a frisson of concern for Prompto shot through him at Ardyn’s seemingly casual mention of a gun.

“Ahh, but you’d never harm a man saved by your dearest love, would you?” he simpered, pulling his lower lip down into a false pout. “Is that why she’s no longer here? Did you have a spat over little old me?” He placed his hands on the desktop and jerked forward, inhaling a short sharp breath. “Where is she?”

Ignis studied his softened expression intently, searching for some clue to his intentions beyond gathering intelligence. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Oh, but she’s _left_ you!” he cackled with glee, leaping off the desk and strolling with a slow, rolling gait to the window. He pulled back the gauzy white curtain and gazed down at the empty street below as he said, “She’s been following me, you know. Perhaps our dalliance in Altissia laid more of a dark streak in her than I’d realized for her to be so interested.”

Ignis was no fool. Ardyn was attempting to glean information as well as activate a vein of jealousy he had no idea couldn’t be stirred. For as much as his competitive side wished to claim that it had been him following Ardyn around the Solheim ruins, it was far safer to allow him to believe it had been Laura, so he chose to remain silent.

“So. Euthanasia, eh?” he abruptly changed subjects, adopting an airy tone that belied the gravity of the topic. “An interesting middle ground. My dear brother burned them alive, you know.”

“What would you have me do? You slaughtered the one woman in the world that could hold it at bay.”

“I know,” he sighed. Turning back to the window, he said in a small, faraway voice, “There was something about her appearance that simply didn’t sit well with me.”

“If you aren’t willing to help, then I also request to be spared your flippancy. Laura may have saved you from a painful reset, but don’t think for a moment that the act makes us allies. Nothing would bring me greater joy in this world than to see you leave it for good.”

“I’m curious.” He snapped his head to stare intensely at Ignis, tilting his head and taking a slight step forward. He paused when his eyes fell to the dagger held in Ignis’s flexing fingers and met his glare with a feral smile. “As a healer yourself, what would you have done in my stead—bereft and betrayed, with no one to turn to? Not even the people you healed willing to grant you succor?”

Ignis hesitated, determined to give the weighty question serious thought before delivering an honest answer. After several moments, he said, “It’s difficult to say, given that we still don’t know the details of your descent. Though if we’re correct, I would have healed them all and died as was asked of me.”

“You must be joking.”

“For the greater good? Without hesitation.”

“Oh,” he scoffed, his lip curling in disgust. “You’re so . . . _boring_.”

“Well then, would you care—” Ignis began, but a knock on the door at his back made him flinch and jerk away from the vibrating wood. His attention instantly darted back to where Ardyn had been leaning against the corner of his desk, only to find wispy curls of purple miasma melting into the carpet and seeping through the cracks out the window.

He closed his eyes briefly, dismissing his dagger and wishing he could simply have a _moment_ to himself, before turning to jerk the door open.

“Yes, what is it?” he asked, perhaps a touch too sharply.

Luke presented the top of his sandy-colored head as he crossed his arm over his chest and bowed low. “D-do forgive the intrusion this early, Y-Your Grace. Guardians have apprehended someone attempting to hide a patient from Quarantine. They’ve submitted the patient, but they’d like to know what to do with the man who’d been hiding her. The squad leader said they have him just outside.”

Ignis turned to his desk, spinning his burgundy executive chair to face him before he sat with a long sigh. It appeared coffee would have to wait. “Tell them to bring him inside and escort him up here. And . . . thank you, Luke,” he added more gently.

He’d had just enough time to pull out his mobile to text Prompto, asking for his whereabouts, and Gladio, alerting him to the situation, when the door opened again to reveal the very man he’d been searching for. The two Guardians deposited Prompto in the chair across from Ignis’s desk and bowed. At his dismissal, they turned to stride out without another word.

Ignis remained still, watching Prompto carefully as he stared at his boots and rubbed uncomfortably at the long purple sleeves of his t-shirt. After nearly a minute of tense silence, he said quietly, “I assume this has to do with Miss Penelope.”

Prompto winced as though he’d been slapped, but though something seemed to flutter in Ignis’s chest at the sight, he continued with his lecture—as was his duty.

“Do you realize that this very day, the Council is voting whether to institute the death penalty for what you’ve done? Though I doubt the motion will carry through, there would have been nothing I could have done for you had it been approved already.”

Silent tears streaked down Prompto’s cheeks, dripping into his lap as he refused to meet Ignis’s eyes. In a voice that was almost a whisper, he said, “I took her away from people. I made her safe.”

“You can’t know that. What were you going to do when she transformed? Set her free? How many lives would have been on your conscience for such a reckless decision?”

Prompto’s eyes shot to his then, full of fire as he balled his hands into fists and hit the chair arms. “She LOVED me. She loved ME. Can you blame me for wanting to keep that?” He slumped in his chair, dropping his head in his hands and lowering his voice to a murmur. “Just . . . for _once_ , someone loved me for who I was. Wanted me. I never had to worry about her looking at you or Gladio or Noct because it was just me she was looking at.” He broke on the final word, managing to choke it out before he looked down at his jeans and took in a shuddering breath of air.

Ignis remained silent as Prompto wept openly in his seat, but he leaned forward and nudged the box of tissues he kept on the corner of his desk closer to the young gunman. The rational side of his mind wanted to argue back that he’d only known the girl mere weeks, but his heart reminded him that it had taken him only two months to marry Laura.

He understood—truly, he empathized all too well with the notion of being unloved, with the freedom and confidence that came with being adored. But with the exception of events of Altissia, not once had Ignis placed his needs above the safety of the people—and the decision not to execute Laura hadn’t exactly been his at the time.

“You don’t understand,” Prompto continued after a minute of sniffling. “It’s never just me. Maybe it wasn’t gonna be some epic love story, all powerful and immortal and stuff like you and Laura, but it was mine and no one else’s.”

Ignis allowed Prompto some time to collect himself before he said gently, “Just because love is between two humans doesn’t mean that it’s any less epic or important, but I cannot stress how vital it is to keep our higher calling in mind in these desperate times, and to not lose sight of that.”

“Easy for you to say,” he chuckled bitterly. “You’re married to like, this indestructible super goddess.” He seemed to realize how insensitive his words were as he grimaced. “Sorry. Is she coming back soon?”

Reaching out in his mind, Ignis stroked the thread that was his sleeping wife, feeling it shift a little at his touch. “Very soon. But Prompto?”

Watery cerulean shot up to meet his gaze, and Ignis inclined his head. “For what it’s worth, I _am_ very sorry for your loss. If there’s anything at all I can do . . ..”

“Nah, forget it,” he chuckled—a hollow sound to hear coming from his throat. “Just gotta keep on keepin’ on, only way I know how.”

Ignis glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, noting that if he did this, he would need to take some of his work home to complete this evening. But nothing was more important in times like these than making time for family, just as Prompto had often made time for him these past two years. He stood and headed to the corner of the room where he kept his coffee maker. Prompto sat still, waiting in apprehensive silence as Ignis summoned his favorite beans, pride of the planet Melissa Majoria. That intoxicating aroma permeated the air as he ran them through the grinder, and he closed his eyes and breathed in, allowing that comforting scent to soothe his frazzled nerves. When the gentle roar of the electric kettle had receded, Ignis lifted it off its base and poured it over the grounds, allowing the water to drip into the carafe below as he continued to take long, slow breaths of coffee-flavored steam.

“Has Ardyn visited you recently?” he asked, bending to retrieve two mugs from the lower shelf.

“Uh . . . yeah. How’d you know?”

“He’s been making the rounds, it would seem, and obliquely alluded that he’d spoken to you. What did he say?”

“Oh . . . yah know,” he said casually, chuckling. “The usual stuff.” His voice took on a bitter, mocking intonation as he continued, “’Join me. I can save her.’ Typical bad guy stuff—like I’ve never read Flan Man. Musta passed some kinda test, cause the Rogue Queen visited me. Said I thought for myself and went rogue against my heritage. Gave me a sigil!”

It wasn’t until Ignis had placed a cup in front of Prompto—three sugars and two creams, just as he preferred—and sat down that he calmly met Prompto’s eyes, cupped the warm mug between both his hands, and leaned forward.

“Please . . . tell me about her.”

***

Though his eyes were drooping and his limbs had long ago grown clumsy, Ignis resisted the urge to allow his body to stagger its way through the dark streets to Big North. The last thing he needed was to develop the reputation of a drunkard on top of everything else. But his exhaustion also kept him from taking the long way home to meander through the Partellum Market, more of a trading post these days, and wandering up the back alley behind the power plant to lose himself in the memories of his first dance and first kiss.

Shaking his head clear of his weariness, he reached their home and reluctantly climbed the ladder up to his roof to choose a fish for his evening meal, feed the rest, and check the crops to see if anything was ready to harvest.

It appeared it would be a few more days before more of their tomatoes turned red, so he headed to the gutting station in the corner to filet his fish before bringing it in the house. Placing the guts and scales in the compost bin, he took one last look around the cozy, warm courtyard Laura had designed for them before climbing back down, unlocking the front door, and making his way to the bright and cheery kitchen.

Smiling to himself at the Terran rooster painting hanging on the wall, he preheated the oven, opened the copper-colored fridge, and reached into the crisper for the chard. Their [kitchen](https://i.imgur.com/E4g0ofQ.png) was small—nearly as tiny as their kitchenette in the nearby Leville, but there was something about the aesthetics of the room that always lifted his spirits, particularly in those first few months when Rose would sit at the barstool, her legs swinging back and forth as she flirted with him over the counter.

It was the same barstool he sat at a half an hour later, listening to the clock chime ten o’clock as the burn of his stomach bubbled angrily at the aroma of fish and buttery garlic rising to greet his nose, and it was only then that he’d realized he’d forgotten to eat today—again. But skipping lunch to prepare his arguments for the Council meeting had paid off, as madness had been averted and there would be no death penalty instituted for Quarantine dodgers.

As he continued to pick at his meal, he began poring through reports on the areas surrounding the tombs of the Old Kings. Now that he’d gathered all the intelligence he could from ancient Solheim before the ruins shut down for good, he could truly concentrate on Ardyn, the prophecy, and saving Noct. Seeing that the danger surrounding the tombs seemed to vary greatly, he thought they might be a suitable place for breaking in Iris and Talcott, perhaps even his mother, should she choose to continue her career as a researcher when she wasn’t teaching. After all, she had dedicated a good portion of her life to learning more about the mysterious man who had attacked King Regis with a Royal Armiger in 734.

It came as no surprise to Ignis that she’d only been able to identify a formerly exemplary border patrolman by the name of Mars Sapientia—given what they knew now about Ardyn’s ability to mimic anyone’s appearance. She had gathered reports and interviews from everyone who’d sighted the missing man that day, tracking his whereabouts as he moved quietly toward the Citadel. When the trail ended with his defeat at the hands of King Regis, his mother had somehow managed to pin him at the Rock of Ravatogh with a squad of Niflian forces on some mysterious errand—which Ignis surmised was likely an attempt to track down Ifrit’s Messenger body.

Why had this assassination attempt been kept so quiet? Surely, His Majesty must have suspected something out of the ordinary when the assassin called forth the Royal Arms? Even if Ardyn had remained disguised, King Regis should have known something was amiss. Why hadn’t he warned Noct of the potential foe when they’d left Insomnia?

It hardly mattered anymore, as clinging to anger at the dead was a fruitless endeavor, but he was growing ever more suspicious the more he learned of the man he’d once considered as infallible as the gods, the man he’d once considered his father.

Once he’d finished with his meal, he did the dishes and wiped down all the kitchen surfaces before gathering his reports and taking them to his desk upstairs. He pulled the chain to turn on the stained-glass lamp on his desk, casting the bedroom in a warm, comfortable glow as he settled into his chair and began reading once again.

***

_Wake up, Ithīr._

The absence of throbbing behind his temples was the first sensation Ignis noticed as he jerked awake, raising his heavy head from his arms folded on his desk, followed by soft, familiar lips across his cheek and warm breath spreading over his skin. He looked up to find Laura there, smiling sweetly down at him, but the moment their eyes met, she took several steps back, beckoning him to follow. It was then that he noticed her surroundings.

Obviously, he was dreaming.

Buttery yellow summer light bounced off leafy green trees outside, streaming through the high, arched windows and illuminating the lofty boarded ceiling and multicolored brick. The striated wooden floor had been worn so completely smooth by years of use that it was nearly impossible to tell where one board ended and another began, and the rich glow of it seemed to warm the very air in the otherwise empty but brightly-lit room.

But what captured and held his eyes was the sight of Laura in front of the closest window, her reflection in the mirror at the other end of the room doubling her graceful movements as she rose en pointe and turned slowly, like a figurine in a music box. Decadent [layers](https://d28c33qydoddqk.cloudfront.net/files/Dancers/_1600x900_fit_center-center/129243.jpg) of gold and blush tulle, silk, and lace fell just below her knees in a sparkling cascade—the jagged, gold-lined edges reminding him of an inverted kithairon blossom as it draped against her long, elegantly pointed legs. As she raised her foot high above her head, preparing to leap forward, his eyes dragged up the smooth line of her bare leg to the ribbons wrapped and tied around her ankle—the perfect kiss of blushing pink ending in a matching satin slipper.

A thousand times, he’d dreamed of this place, where they used to meet for ballet combat training and the occasional round of dancing for the pure pleasure of spending time with one another, so he pretended it was merely routine and stepped forward when the simple yet wistful baseline of one of the [songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfmgFc20vA0) they would sometimes dance to began to play.

“Ithīr,” she murmured on a sigh. She spread her arms out to either side with a flourish as he wrapped one hand around her ankle and another around her waist, letting her pointed toes skim across the wood as he drew her to the middle of the floor. 

“Laurelín,” he crooned into her ear, running his lips across the curve of her neck. “My beloved kithairon—tye nénya, ílë.”

“Melethronya, inye tye nénya.” She gasped as he feathered his fingertips from the criss-crossed ribbons around her ankle, down her creamy soft calf, to the warmth of the underside of her thigh.

He placed a kiss to her hair, just to the left of her tight chignon. “It’s been a long day. Dance with me, love, please.”

Two years without it, and he must have forgotten the nuances of the smile that would cross her face when she looked up at him—the way her eyes grew wider and lightened a shade, the spread of those soft pink lips he could never grow tired of caressing with his own, the blush that would blossom up her cheekbones and into her hair. He hadn’t felt that answering glow in his chest in so very long that he couldn’t help but lean forward and capture her mouth, tasting her languidly.

If providence was going to offer him the gift of this fantasy, he was damn-well going to take advantage of it.

“You don’t even have to ask,” she said when she’d pulled away just far enough to speak against his lips.

The exhaustion, the constant weight of deaths on his conscience, melted away as she twirled from his hold in a wave of shimmering ruffles. Though he’d always enjoyed watching the ballet, he hadn’t truly believed he would enjoy it for anything more than combat purposes until she’d begun training him after Altissia. Ballet required immense strength, endurance, control, and timing—particularly en pointe. There was something mathematical about the art that he appreciated—the way his hand would have to be in a precise location on a three-dimensional plane at a precise point in the music to take hers—the physical act measured out by auditory input in time executed with grace.

Yet there was passion and emotion laced in their every move together as he shut down the analytical part of his mind to synchronize with her—the art of the flourish, his desire and appreciation for the aesthetics of her body, expressing his emotions through movement in tandem with her interpretation of her feelings.

Fouetté. Extend. Fouetté. Extend. Their private studio would transform to whorls of red and brown, of brick and wood, as his satin slippers would drill and skim and slide across the floor until his hips burned from holding up his weight. The pointework itself may have been useless on the field, but the muscle development made moving in battle near effortless and the vertigo from spinning all but disappear. But whirling until he nearly grew dizzy reminded him of their field just beyond Wiz’s Chocobo Post—flooded with sunlight, bright green grass, and the scent of trees on the fresh air as they spun together at a thousand miles an hour and fell in love.

Moments like these—he felt truly at peace with himself, perfectly balanced between head and heart.

“You’ve been practicing,” she said warmly, reaching behind her to scrape her long nails over his grey tights. “Your thighs are enormous.”

He smirked a little to himself, as he certainly had been practicing in their basement . . . when he could spare the time. “I’m glad you’re appreciating them.”

She caught his eyes as she spun to face him. “The appreciating has only just begun.” Grazing her fingers against his hips and reaching around behind him, she said with a flirtatious smile, “I don’t care what anyone says about your arse, I think it’s perfect.”

“And just how many people are discussing this, I ask you?”

Her lips quirked further as her eyes sparkled with mirth. “You might be surprised.”

He chuckled warmly, but as he bent to lift her high above his head, something about the authenticity of her cheekiness struck a chord with him, and he wondered. But he refused to ask, loath to break the spell and dump him back into his lonely reality once more.

He dipped her a little in warning before dropping her, allowing her body to freefall towards the floor in a whispering rush of tulle before catching her lightly by the ribs and thigh so she could brush the floor with a spread of elegant fingertips. There was something about the sensuality of these moments that allowed him to drown in the onslaught of his keen senses—the way the piano would weave with the mournful lament of the erhu and echo off the bricks into his head with a fragile sense of nostalgia, the beauty of her graceful limbs brushing against his own as they created something together, their scents and the soft sounds of their skin combining with the rich colors of the room, the way his heart would leap right along with their feet every time their toes left the floor, the taste of her as he brought the back of her hand to his lips.

Catching sight of them in the mirror hung on the far wall—by the light of all the stars, they were poetry in motion together. The sight pleased him. When they’d first begun these lessons, he’d been able to keep a tight rein on his lust, but his senses were overwhelmed in this exquisite fantasy after so long without her. He let his palm drag down the length of her arm to interlace their fingers, his other hand spread wide around her hip as she leaned away from him and brought her foot up behind his head in an attitude croisé derrière. He couldn’t help but flex his hips against her as she let go of his hand and bent to brush her toes, his tights stretching as he grew heavy against the fabric.

“Oh,” she breathed, pulling herself straight abruptly and turning to face him. She spread her fingers along both sides of his jaw and pulled him down to her mouth. A surge of heat flooded his senses as her lips slid over his, and he clung to her solid, lithe body, his nerves trembling in anticipation. When she pulled him closer, every inch of his body fitting to hers like the interlocking pieces of a puzzle, he groaned, soft and low in the back of his throat.

He didn’t say a word as he ripped his mouth from her, merely grasped her hips with his shaking hands and spun her so her back was pressed against his chest. But words didn’t need to be exchanged as he lifted her by the hip and thigh and rushed her to the mirror.

Setting her down carefully on one pointed foot and letting the other lay extended along the long, wooden barre, he whispered huskily, “How long can you stay en pointe for me, darling?”

He didn’t wait for her answer to run his hands up her velvety bare legs and underneath the sumptuous layers of her tutu, massaging her taught, muscular flesh as she quivered from the effort of holding her position.

“Oialë,” she let out on an exhale.

“Good,” he said in a gravelly voice against her shoulder before dipping beneath her skirt, pushing aside the strip of fabric between her legs, and _stars_ , after such a very long time, burying his mouth in her sex—as best he could in this position.

It was coming home—drenched in her scent, immersed in her sweetness, and delighted by the music of her sweet moans, muffled by her thighs and skirt between them. He whimpered into her flesh, steadying himself with one hand against her leg and reaching down with the other to stroke his own rigid length roughly.

He worked diligently—breathing her in, licking her, burning for her, wanting her—until she bestowed him with the gift of a soft cry of his name as she contracted around his fingers.

Somehow, she’d managed to stay en pointe thus far, and she held that position against the barre as he pulled back and yanked the band of his tights down. The satisfying susurration of tulle and silk tickled at his ears as he ruched the light layers of pink and gold up around her hips and eased himself carefully into her delicious wet heat.

“Rose,” he groaned, catching her reflection in the mirror in time to see her sapphire eyes rolling up into her head and her mouth falling open. “Melethrilnya.”

“Yes, Ignis,” she cried out, flexing her foot so that she rose and fell a little on his length, wordlessly encouraging him to push deeper in. He complied, melting into her body and along her back.

Being one with her like this, breathing together, watching muscle and bone shift beneath her skin as she moved in tandem with him would always be one of the best parts of using his body to love her. That instinctual rush to drive the both of them to their conclusion while his senses drowned in every twitch of her body, every rush of pleasure in her mind, would never cease to set his heart pounding in his ears as his body clenched in anticipation.

But something was missing. He didn’t have to speak the thought aloud before she was lifting her leg off the barre and up over his head. They separated completely when she leapt up and he caught her around the backs of her thighs to rest her against the barre, but it was only too easy to push back into her and resume their tightly controlled dance—this time with her face mere inches from him. His arms encircled her to gather her closer, and she wrapped hers around him in return, kneading insistently at the back of his neck and gripping his hair as he thrust against the weight of her on his length.

It wasn’t enough. He wanted more— _needed_ more. He wanted to inhale her sweet scent until his lungs were saturated with her. He wanted to drink her in until his thirst was sated.

“I know,” she panted open-mouthed against his lips, against his wordless plea. “I feel it, too.” And then she leaned down to take his demanding mouth with hers, pulling him even closer as their tongues danced together.

This . . . this was what he needed—desperate roaming mouths, his arms and knees growing weak as she clung to him, her fingertips digging into his shoulders as she gasped his name into his devolving thoughts. The tingling pleasure and increasing pressure demanded at the base of his brain that he press her more firmly against the mirror, thrust into her with every ounce of strength he could muster. 

It didn’t matter for a second whether or not this was real—he was going to hold out until she quivered around him again.

“Please, Rose,” he pleaded when his concentration on his telepathic ministrations began to falter, “come with me.”

“I’m . . . almost . . .,” she pushed through heavy, humid breaths against his shoulder.

But it was another minute before she exhaled sharply against his jaw and dropped her head to his collarbone, crying out, her sex pulsing along his rigid length. He felt as though his body were about to dissolve between the burn in his arms, the trembling in his knees, and the pleasure running from his balls to his brain, but he jerked one final thrust, her name falling from his lips before he, too, was shuddering his wet release into her. The wave of bliss that washed over him forced him to press her tighter against the glass to keep his legs from collapsing beneath him as he continued to fill her.

The last drops of his release were still being pulled from him when she pressed her cheek to his chest and let out a long, slow breath. “Go ahead and fall,” she said softly, and he obeyed without question.

They fell backward together, but a downy soft featherbed was there waiting for them, cushioning their landing, and he was finally able to release his tight grip and allow the blood to return to his aching hands as he ran them soothingly up and down Laura’s back.

“I have to say,” she sighed, grazing her nails over his ribs and sending shivering chills down his back, “I wasn’t expecting _that_ when I woke up, but I’m glad you didn’t try to do something silly, like take it easy on me.”

He caught her right hand on its next circuit up and brought her fingers to his lips. “So, it’s true. This is real.”

“It is,” she confirmed. “I’m awake . . . sort of.”

“I . . . I need to wake up. I’ll leave tonight—”

“Hold up there,” she said sternly, propping herself up on an elbow to glare down at him. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re clearly exhausted; you fell asleep at your desk, love. How about I come home to you tomorrow?”

He let the tip of his middle finger run along the edge of her cheek and down along the shell of her ear. “You’re not up for a strenuous journey, and I’ve been taking care of myself just fine on my own, thank you. Are _you_ all right? Have you eaten? Has Kimya checked in on you? Are you comfortable?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” she growled. “The chickens will look after me for the trip, and anyway, I’ve been getting more sleep than you lately.”

“The matter of sleep will always be difficult when even an extra hour may cost hundreds of lives.”

“Remember, lives can be lost just as easily because you’re too tired to perform at your best.” She let out a long sigh, snuggling into his chest as he brought his hands up to hold her close. “I’ll be able to help soon.”

Elation threatened to bubble over as he grinned up at the vaulted wooden ceiling, squeezing her warm body and stirring inside her at the thought of doing this again in reality.

“Insatiable, you are,” she chuckled. “You _do_ look incredibly handsome with your hair like that, by the way.”

As she pressed a brief, sweet kiss to his chest, he said disbelievingly, “This is real. You’re really coming home to me.”

“Tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The translation to the lyrics of Somnus were too fitting not to use, so I pulled them from the wiki and changed only the gender of the deity. In the context of this story, Eos sleeps beneath the planet while Solheim creates the virus, of which they lose control. It kills her, and the tragedy of the Astral war divides man and god, god and god. In despair, Eos waits, looking to the dawn of the prophecy, which will free her from her torment.
> 
> The image of the butterflies was taken in Keycatrich mines. I thought it was weird those things existed way down there in the first place, and the way they disappear when they draw close…let’s just say they deserved to be the bad guy.
> 
> Bahamut and the other gods cannot bring people back from the dead in this world, contrary to canon.
> 
> I know very, very little about swords or sword fighting. The sword forms were taken from Wheel of Time.
> 
> The photo of the tutu is taken by Caroline Holden of the Birmingham Royal Ballet’s Beauty and the Beast.


	89. Chapter 89

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Brief mention of vomiting.

His heart wasn’t beating in his chest; his bond had grown still as though on bated breath, but it was drowned out by the searing chill of the Crystal freezing its way down his nerves.

Everything was wrong.

Ignis hadn’t realized just how reliant the human body was on time to measure out its existence, more than a mere convenience but a necessity for survival. How long had he existed in this frozen realm of sparkling blue, neither living nor dead? Had he been standing in the comfort of his familiar world, he would have estimated a fraction of a second, but laughable human concerns such as seconds didn’t exist here in this place.

The longer he loitered, the more the atmospheric pressure increased, pressing down on his lungs and skull in an alarming way that made him wonder if his eyes and tongue would burst from his head if he were to remain in this timeless dimension much longer. Despite his body’s protestations, he strode forward in a weightless, sightless daze—past the wispy shadows he couldn’t stop to identify—choosing to forgo a more elegant gymnastic maneuver as Noct had always performed, at least for this first time.

Reaching out with his Intuition, he felt for the dagger he had tossed back in a world where time and breathing and life existed, and—there—a ghostly impression of the armiger, the pool of fiery gold and silver that was Laura’s magic, and the vast ocean of turbulent energy from the firestone in the blade’s hilt. He closed his hand around the shadow he could feel in his teeth more than he could see and thrust forward with all his might.

The jarring vibration that radiated painfully up his right hand told him that he’d hit his mark, but the sudden reassertion of time and air and life and bond dumped over him like a shock of icy water. He gasped indignantly at the sheer unpleasantness of the sensation drowning out his senses—until the roiling nausea tightened his stomach, forcing his sight inward in an attempt to control his constitution.

_Oh, love, it’s rough the first few times, but it gets better. I promise._

Laura’s words brought little comfort as, for the first time since Pitioss, he dropped to his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach with a gut-stabbing heave. As the liquid spewed from his mouth onto the brittle grass beneath him, he distantly supposed that at the very least, it was a small mercy he’d prepared for this and had only had water this morning.

And to think, Noct had begun training for this unpleasant process as a mere child.

“Holy shit,” Libertus muttered under his breath as he hustled to Ignis’s side. “I gotta stop being surprised at what you’re capable of, quick as you picked up hardcasting. You’re gonna be airstepping in no time.”

Ignis let out a final cough before sucking in the largest lungful of cold, morning air he could muster. “I should consider myself fortunate if I can step my way back inside the city,” he choked.

As he sat back on his knees in the brown grass, he pulled his handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and wiped delicately at his mouth. A hand appeared in his peripheral vision, and he reached up to grasp it as Libertus pulled him to his feet.

“I gotta admit, I didn’t think that dagger would work,” Libertus said as Ignis yanked it from its place buried in the trunk of a dead tree and dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Never seen a bond with a weapon that strong. It’s why we usually do this kinda thing out here. More dangerous with the daemons, but you’re less likely to miss the blade end up inside a wall and kill yourself.”

“They are my preferred daggers. Perhaps that we’ve been through so much together has instilled a deeper bond,” he suggested, though he knew that wasn’t the reason. “I find my favored lance and katana slower and less powerful, so I tend to use the daggers almost exclusively unless I’m aiming to keep a distance from my opponent.”

“It’s not that,” Libertus replied, jerking his head back toward the city walls that barred the wilderness from the road into town. Ignis did his best to maintain a smooth gait on his shaky knees as he followed, but a veil of lassitude settled over him as he clumsily threw his leg over the bar and stepped onto the asphalt. “There’s a little spark of something in every weapon, something that connects to the ground the metal came from, our home. It’s why Glaive Guardians can warp with a brand new weapon. But those . . . I dunno, they feel wrong . . . cursed or somethin’. Where’d you get ‘em?”

“A gift from my wife,” he said, his tongue wrapping oddly around the words. When Libertus cast him a dubious look from the side of his eye, Ignis explained further, “I’m familiar with the sensation to which you’re referring. It’s not a cause for concern.”

“It’s got something to do with your connections to the Royal Family, doesn’t it?”

 _That_ particular question seemed to wipe his head instantly clear of the fog of exhaustion threatening to pull him under. “What on Eos would cause you to say such a thing?”

“You can do everything a Glaive can and a lotta stuff we can’t—that elemental stuff with your blades, and you can do more stuff with spiritual magic than anyone I’ve ever seen . . . way beyond casting cheer with that sigil from the Wanderer. We’re not stupid, you know. Figured you must be second in line for a reason.”

 _I don’t think your spiritual magic has anything to do with your distant relation to the Caelums,_ Laura said.

_Nor do I. Noct was never particularly adept at the skill, and neither was His Majesty._

_I’ve been reading over that journal you found for my research, and I’ve been wondering about this guy’s abrupt changes in opinion and what he said about the Queen being able to sway hearts._

_Oh? You think my ability is a product of my Solheimian heritage?_

At Ignis’s silence, Libertus continued with a sigh,

“Listen, I know people talk without knowing what’s goin’ on. Back in Insomnia, I usta be one of ‘em. But for what it’s worth? The Guardians are behind you no matter what, with or without Cor and Gladio. We wouldn’t’ve made it these last five years without you.”

 _Why not?_   _Part of the burning knowledge he received could have been the passion to inspire fellow man,_ Laura said. _Your mother has it too, and it’s not as though everyone in your family has lived a life that allowed them to be tested for magical abilities. Your regenerate and overwhelm techniques are **so** strong when no one else I’ve met possesses anything like it._

“You have my thanks,” Ignis replied just as the gate taken from one of the blockade walls came into view. “Out of curiosity, does that include those who have recently had their memories restored by the Draconian?”

It was, perhaps, a boorish question to ask, but the concept of traitors walking freely among them, despite the gods’ claim that they had regained their honor after betraying King Regis, never sat quite right with him. Besides the shock value, he couldn’t fathom a reason for why the gods had taken away their memories, except perhaps to allow them to let go of their bitterness long enough to see that serving the people was more important now that there was no more Niflheim or King of Lucis to fight.

_Cursed, traitorous armies are nothing new in the multiverse, love. I worked with a dead one once in Middle Earth._

_I would still feel more comfortable sending them out on field missions—gathering shards, keeping watch over Angelgard, watching for Noct’s return. You know, they found the Royal Vessel last week._

“Yeah, even them,” Libertus answered. “I know you don’t trust Bahamut’s word, but you can trust mine. They’ve pledged themselves to hearth and home, and Lestallum is home now.”

_That’s good to hear. I’m telling you, someone in Calcano probably used it to flee to Lucis. I bet they didn’t moor it properly when they landed, and she floated away._

Libertus waved up at the guard standing sentinel on top of the concrete wall, and the metal doors pulled apart just far enough to allow the two of them to pass. Ignis stepped to the side into a small black booth and closed the heavy curtain behind him. He closed his eyes as blinding white light flooded the tiny space—the UV treatment required of every person entering from the outside no matter how brief the absence. After several seconds, it grew dark again, but it was only the sound of someone pulling the curtain back that convinced him not fall asleep right there on his feet.

_You’re exhausted. Come home._

_I must stop by the office first._

_Ignis . . ._ , she warned.

 _I’m right here. It will only take a moment,_ he argued. _Luke likely left a paper on my desk._ _I’d hate to see it go to waste._

The border patrol operative stepped up close, scanning Ignis’s face carefully for any signs of hemorrhaging as Ignis obediently turned and presented each side for inspection.

“All clear, Your Grace.”

“Thank you.”

After a wave of thanks to Libertus and a promise to meet him for practice in a few days, he crossed the road at the gas station and made his way to the empty Council headquarters.

 _It’s Hootd Eve,_ she said exasperatedly. _Doesn’t anyone get the day off?_

_Are **you** taking the day off?_

_All right, I guess you have a point._ _Have you seen my jacket? I was going to do a load of your laundry before Prompto got here for his blood test, and I wanted to throw it in there._

_Apologies, it’s draped over the arm of my desk chair. I patched it up while you were out training Iris this morning._

_You didn’t have to do that, especially considering how late we stayed up last night._

He smiled a little to himself, recalling the cozy sepia-colored light under the blanket tent in the living room he had come home to the night before, where Laura had insisted they lay like children among piles of soft pillows as he completed a report to the Council on Sania’s research into daemon migratory patterns. Of course, he’d found a much more enticing use for the intimate space before they drifted off curled around each other.

_I know, but I had a spare moment._

As he opened the front door of the building and stowed his keys away, Ignis stopped at the sight of Gladio hunched over on the stairs, his hands wringing restlessly in front of him.

“Gladio,” he greeted with a nod. At the sound of his voice, Gladio shot to his feet as though he’d been caught doing something wrong. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just waitin’ to talk to you.”

“How did you know I’d be in today?”

“Pfft. It’s you. Knew you couldn’t resist if you were gonna be within a hundred-yard radius of this place. How you feelin’?”

“I’ve discovered a newfound respect for the Glaives’ constitution, but I’ll manage. Was there a particular reason you were waiting?”

“Uhh . . . yeah. Got kind of a weird question to ask.”

“Then perhaps we’d better take this to my office.”

Ignis passed him on the stairs and made his way up to his office door as Gladio shuffled behind him. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

He ushered Gladio inside and shut the door before heading to his desk to sit, taking note of the paper lying in the middle of his desk and the updated population count written carefully in Luke’s hand on the whiteboard behind him: 742,694 citizens left on this eos.

“The incident at the Norduscaean Garrison?” Gladio asked as he sat, nodding at the board.

“Indeed. No matter what I do, that number only seems to decrease.”

“Gettin’ harder to protect shit all spread out now that the power’s back online everywhere.”

“Yes, but the population is fortunately still large enough that the additional space is necessary. Crowding will do no one any good when a disease is running rampant. And the chocobos and livestock aren’t exactly compact.”

“Oh yeah, speaking of Caem, you heard the news from Prompto yet?”

“I haven’t.”

 _He’s only just arrived in town. He hasn’t made it to the house yet,_ Laura added.

“Well, minor thing is that chocobos are starting to turn orange from all those carrot tops we been feedin’ ‘em. And a big thing: guess you’re a grandpa now. Calima and Saracchian’s egg hatched.”

The news lifted the fog of his drowsy thoughts for a moment. “Really? A boy or girl? What color?”

Gladio chuckled, shaking his head. “Everything about you guys gotta be fucking weird, I swear. She’s a freakshow, but pretty damn cute from what I hear—black _and_ white.”

Ignis sat back in the plush leather, closing his eyes even as Laura’s bubbling excitement frothed across the backs of his eyelids. _Black and white? Like a cow? Oh! Can we call her Bessie?_

 _Whatever you wish, love,_ he sighed tiredly before adding to Gladio, “That’s good to hear. Last I heard, Kaze and Sunny were growing rather close. Do we have a second set of lovebirds in our flock?”

“Dunno. Noticed Sunny’s been coming when I call Kaze lately, so maybe. No eggs yet though. Which . . . uh, kinda brings me to my next point.”

At the hesitation in Gladio’s tone, Ignis opened his eyes and leaned forward to watch his shifty gaze and uncharacteristically fidgety hands.

Gladio stared down at a bare spot on Ignis’s desk, a deep frown tugging at his lips. “Can’t believe I’m askin’ you . . . of all people,” he muttered before letting out a long sigh. “You uh . . . got any condoms left these days?”

Ignis blinked.  Of every topic he could have imagined Gladio to bring up, this had certainly not made the list. “I haven’t. Not for some number of years now.”

Though he still refused to look up, Gladio’s dark brow furrowed. “Uh . . . what’ve you um . . . been using all this time then?”

Ignis stared down at the identical spot on the desk that had captured Gladio’s interest so. Surely this was obvious? He and Laura were different species, after all.

“We’ve never used anything.” Which technically wasn’t true, but Ignis wasn’t about to detail how his first and only box had been used against trees and boulders when the retinue had been out hunting and they hadn’t had access to showering facilities afterward, and the last one in the back seat of his Insignia.

“Shit,” Gladio spat, and they both met each other’s eyes. “I know you had a special education growing up, but maybe they never told you . . . that’s how you wind up with kids, you know that?”

“Of course I know that,” he snapped, then looked away again. The muscle in his jaw twitched involuntarily before he managed to say under his breath, “She can’t have them.”

Ignis had enough time to contemplate how off-center the staple was on the corner of his latest Galdin Quay report before Gladio spoke in a soft tone, “That explains why you keep stalling with your parents. What about the line?”

“Damn the line,” Ignis growled. He’d long grown weary of having this discussion. Laura had only just soothed his parents’ frustration on the subject, citing the ineffectiveness of driving a wedge between them, and he was only just beginning to trust that they wouldn’t suddenly ambush him with the topic.

And now Gladio.

“Hey, you think I don’t get it?” Gladio asked, raising his hands in surrender. “Eldest son of a nearly-extinct noble house. I’m not puttin’ pressure. I’m just askin’.”

Even with his capitulation, Ignis couldn’t completely dispel the edge of impatience to his answer. “The line dies with me, as it was always meant to. It begins and ends with Ignis Scientia. Why do you think I’ve been so careful to name the line of succession?”

“I dunno. Uncertain times, I guess—even though I think you’re a damn fool for putting me next.”

“I did nothing. The job was always meant to be yours, and since you’ve taken your place as High Commander, it’s only appropriate.”

“Cor would’ve been better for this.”

“General Cor would be adequate, but he doesn’t have the full scope of your diplomatic training.”

“Still manages to be more diplomatic,” he muttered.

“And the rest of the old regime is dead. We must begin choosing our own senior advisors,” Ignis continued. “Unfortunately, in my case, that will include choosing an heir to my estate—at the very least for the sake of my father’s position.”

Gladio’s lips lifted in a crooked smirk. “Listen to you, talking about your dad like you’re human or something. I always figured one day you’d come out and confess you were Magitek or a god or something.”

“I assure you I’m as human as they come . . . unfortunately.”

He had already shaken off his brief wave of melancholia when Laura gently inserted herself into his consciousness.

_Ignis . . .._

_I’m all right,_ he said reassuringly.

“How you been takin’ that? We’re not gettin’ any younger here, and she ain’t gettin’ any older.”

“Give her _some_ credit. I didn’t make a single decision regarding her blindly. She ensured I was fully aware of all the consequences before I committed myself.”

“Yeah, but dealing with them is another thing.”

He sat in silence for several moments, backing away from his connection with Laura and debating whether he should even bother putting to words that which he’d hardly admitted to himself. Finally, he opened his mouth and laid everything on the desk between them.

“I won’t lie and say that I’ve never had the fleeting fantasy to create life with the two of us. However, neither of us possesses any great desire for child rearing—again, in my case, and the point is that it’s impossible regardless. Man was not meant to wrap a net around the wings of a goddess and tie her to this world, but that won’t stop my selfish soul from doing so for my own sake. No matter the cost, I’ll never regret choosing her.”

Gladio didn’t speak for several more seconds as he scratched absentmindedly at his beard. “Don’t think I’ll ever get how you just . . . so casually tossed out the whole dating experience. This is the rest of your life we’re talkin’ about, man. How’d you know you were done?”

“I’ve always known precisely what I wanted as soon as I’ve decided—and, if you’ll forgive me, I’ve never been particularly interested in the ordinary.”

The fleeting thought flew through his head to inquire about Gladio’s intentions for his own line, but he bit back the thought, as he’d had quite enough soul-searching with friends for one morning. Grateful that Gladio had introduced this somewhat awkward topic with a confession of his own, Ignis turned the tables on the conversation.  

“As to your predicament, historically speaking, people once used lamb intestines. Although they aren’t effective against sexually transmitted disease, they do offer protection against pregnancy with 98% effectiveness if you use them properly. I’d still recommend not engaging while your partner is fertile, however, just to be on the safe side.”

“That’s . . . disgusting,” Gladio said, his eyes widening in horror.

“Honestly, you can field dress an anak, but you can’t handle bedding a woman properly,” Ignis replied with a huff. “If the advice puts you off, then perhaps I’ve managed to be of some help, after all. Otherwise, the best contraception would be oral . . . though you’d be expected to reciprocate.”

Gladio leaned forward suddenly, choking on his own breath. “That’s . . . I can’t believe I just heard that come outta your mouth.”

“Yes, well, sometimes a man’s limits can be tested.” He stood and folded the paper, placing it in his jacket pocket. “Please, forgive me, but I must be getting home if I am to be playing a gracious host this evening.”

Gladio stood abruptly from his chair and turned toward the door with him. “Oh, yeah. Hey, hope you guys aren’t goin’ all out for this thing tonight. It’s just the four of us. Leave the fancy shit for the big shindig tomorrow.”

“Laura’s handling all the preparations for the gathering tomorrow. I’m afraid I could only commit to a couple of seafood dishes at Cid’s insistence,” he said, stifling a yawn. “Tonight will be simple and traditional—tea and cake.”

Gladio patted him hard on the back as Ignis closed the office door behind him and turned to lock it. “Good. Now go home and get some sleep, man. You look dead on your feet.”

***

Ignis was shivering in his Crownsguard jacket by the time he reached his front door—the winter chill in this nearly sunless world piercing through his clothes down to his bones. Before he was able to begin fumbling for the correct key with his nerveless gloved fingers, the door swung open to reveal Laura, who pulled him inside by the lapel of his jacket and planted a brief kiss to his frozen cheek.

_I’m sorry; Prompto’s still here. And since you refuse to sleep while we have company, why don’t you go upstairs and change into something warm and comfortable?_

Ignis closed his eyes and nodded wearily before heading upstairs without a word.

He was certainly in no mood to entertain after the morning he’d had, but this was the price he had to pay in exchange for one of Laura’s rare stays here in Lestallum—bringing her research home with her. It wasn’t as though Prompto’s visit was merely social, either, so Ignis could hardly fault him for being here while Ignis would have much rather preferred a hot bath and a bed. Tremors washed down his body in long waves, making his teeth chatter as he defied instinct and stripped down. He pulled on his oldest, softest pair of dark blue jeans, a long-sleeved white button-down, and his favorite heavy black knitted sweater with the sleeves that fell to his fingernails.

He was just stepping out of the bathroom, daydreaming about a steaming cup of herbal tea to warm him, when his attention caught on the journal laid open on his desk—not the one that contained his lists and recipes. A weary helplessness weighed him down as he let his fingers trail over the places on the page where tears had dripped off his nose and turned the ink into watercolor as he had created a humble attempt at a sketch of her profile and written this particular entry—hunched furtively over a desk in the corner of an Altissian hotel room in the middle of the night.

_Waking up next to her for the first time, I knew the moment I opened my eyes and saw how the Lestallum light hit her hair and the curve of her hip to dance across her skin that I was forever a broken man, destined to adore her and no other for as long as I lived. Yet for once in my life, I became a willing slave to it with the absolute, doubtless knowledge that she felt precisely the same._

_The scent of her lotion and shampoo—the freshest Duscaean pine and sweet, floral kithairon—combined with the musk of her sex and mine, inciting a fiery desire to fill her again, to allow our scents to intermingle until we were both permanently etched into each other’s skin as she had permanently etched herself into my heart._

_Oh, Astrals, how could I have forgotten, there on that altar? For the briefest span, I knew true completion before slaughtering her with my own foolish recklessness. The least I can do is to never forget a single detail in testament to her memory and all she has given me. This I vow—to never, ever forget._

The memories of utter despair continued to batter at him as he read his own desperate words, echoing the unspoken plea for everything to be reset to before he had learned the truth of his future, before he had lost her and Noct. Clenching his teeth, he flipped the book shut with a satisfying thud.

 _I’m sorry,_ Laura said, her concern wiggling its way into his turbulent thoughts. _I was cleaning upstairs, and you’d left it open. I swear, I didn’t read beyond that page. You don’t still feel that way, do you? That day . . . it was all my fault._

 _Yes and no. It’s complicated,_ he replied shortly as he fished the paper out of his blazer pocket and dismissed his jacket.

She retreated a little in contrition. _I really am sorry. You know how I read. Just a glance._

He let out a breath, clearing his head of his irritation and steeling his patience as he made his way downstairs. _It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have left it out if I didn’t wish it to be read. I was merely adding some memories this morning . . . and remembering._

As Ignis trudged downstairs, Prompto’s overenthusiastic voice rose up to the ceiling. “Hey, how come you don’t have some tiny super computer from the planet Zyrtec or something to like . . . I dunno, cure the whole world?”

He may not have been able to see the two of them in the kitchen, but Ignis could imagine her biting her lip as clearly as though she’d been standing right in front of him. “It’s complicated.”

In his naïveté, Prompto couldn’t have realized the depth of the pool he’d just waded into, one that had often kept Ignis and Laura up debating late into the night. The use of parachronistic technology from other worlds and universes to change the course of history of this one could wind up killing them all if Laura wasn’t very, very careful. Even after having learned so much of time travel and how much her limitations held her back, it was difficult for Ignis to accept that the key to solving all their problems could very well be a summon away, could very well be the microscope he’d brought back from the second Solheim, but that threat of the end of the world or creating a divergence point with Laura’s involvement was always hanging over their heads. The temptation alone was why she didn’t typically keep tech or advanced weaponry in her Pocket.

“Hey, Iggy!” Prompto greeted, leaping from his seat to wave frantically. But a shadow passed over his face the moment he had drawn himself up, and Laura laid a heavy hand on his shoulder to push him back into the barstool.

“No standing up for another couple of minutes, and drink your juice,” she commanded, pointing to the glass of vibrant scarlet fluid on the counter.

“Good morning,” Ignis greeted in return as he carefully arranged himself in the far corner of the sofa to face them.

Laura danced to the counter by the coffee maker, grabbed a mug, and came over to press the steaming porcelain into Ignis’s hands.

 _I hope you don’t mind spearmint,_ she said, but he could still feel and hear the remorse oozing deep blue between them.

He cupped the tea gratefully between both his numb hands, but before she could turn to head back into the kitchen, he caught her fingers briefly and squeezed them.

 _Thank you_. She gave him a tender smile before turning back to Prompto, and looking over at him, Ignis asked, “Are you well?”

Of the four of them, Ignis believed that these past five years since Gralea had been hardest on Prompto. He hadn’t been quite right for a while after Penelope had died, his smile dimmer and his laugh a little more forced. But his love for her had been cut off at the very pinnacle, and no amount of distractions with chocobo training was going to return the authenticity to his expression. It had only been in the last year that Ignis had seen a bit of that old light returning to his eyes—despite this most recent development.

“Guess we’ll find out when Laura runs the next sample!”

Laura paused after pulling out a plaster and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure you’re fine. We just need to keep an eye on you.”

“And this is all cause my sample from last time grew scourge faster than anyone else’s? It’s not cause of the thing with . . .,” his voice shrank a fraction lower, “Penelope, is it?”

“No, dear. It’s just that of the samples run so far, your DNA has mutated the fasted. Since I’m pretty sure anyone under the protection of the Crystal has greater immunity, I need some blood this time to figure out why. That psychopath screwed with your DNA to make it easier for you to transform, and I need to figure out what he knew.”

“Whose was the slowest to transform?” Ignis asked.

“It’s pretty much the order you would expect. Mine, Ardyn’s, and Noct’s didn’t transform at all. Then you, Gladio, and Prompto in that order. I’ve noticed a similar trend for Glaives, Guards, and Hunters, as well. Glaives are the most steeped in magic and are therefore slower to contract the disease, but the Hunters don’t have the Crystal’s protection, which is why they’re getting the brunt of it.”

“And where, might I ask,” he began, a hint of warning coloring his tone, “did you obtain a DNA sample from Ardyn?”

A sly smirk spread across her lips as she said mysteriously, “Invited him over for tea once upon a time.”

“What’s that guy up to these days, anyway?” Prompto asked.

“Rumor placed him outside Pitioss after it was destroyed,” Ignis said.

“He’s bored,” Laura said with a shrug. “I catch fleeting impressions of him around Lestallum sometimes, probably spreading those terrible rumors. He definitely follows me from time to time, and let’s just say the location of those nidus nests can be rather convenient.”

“He’s following you? You never told me that,” Ignis said accusingly. “Doubtless he’s trying to find the lab. I’ve never cared for you working with Dr. Yeagre and Kimya in that decrepit shack of hers; that’s no sort of protection.”

“Ignis,” she sighed, removing the cotton ball from the inside of Prompto’s elbow and applying the plaster. “Sania and I are more than a match for anything that finds us out there. And I can’t work with scourge samples on the farm for the same reason I can’t here in Lestallum—we can’t risk another outbreak.”

“If there’s another outbreak, does that mean I’m definitely gonna get it?” Prompto asked. “I mean, you’d think after all the times I’ve been bitten . . ..”

“You still have the advantage of the Crystal’s protection, but please be more careful in the future, yeah? Don’t want to lose you,” she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“No way am I goin’ anywhere! Got chickens to train, after all!”

“Speaking of, tell me about our new little girl. I so wanted to be there for the hatching, but I couldn’t set up the timing right with my samples.”

Sensing a rehash of every chocobo hatching since Laura had last been in town, Ignis let his eyes wander sleepily to the paper in his hands.

**_Last Public Edition of the Eosian Times! Look to Your Community Bulletins for Additional News!_ **

_Paper is becoming a precious commodity. Get your news at your local bulletin board instead! Regular editions of our e-newsletter and morning radio show will still be available on your tablets and phones._

**_Lucian Population Swells as Terraverde Declared Abandoned_ **

_The last of Niflian and Tenebraean citizens were evacuated from the freezing climes of Fenestala Manor last month by Niflian president Aranea Highwind, leaving the entire continent to the daemons. Yet years after establishing peaceable relations with Lucis, Niflian refugees are still the focus of bitter sentiment stemming from the war, but recent efforts to further integrate the populations by Lady A prove that she’s just as talented in government policy as she is with a polearm . . ._

**_Light Restored to Lucis!_ **

_Five years after the catastrophic power failure that took out EXINERIS’s entire grid, Holly Teulle is pleased to announce that with the exception of Insomnia proper, electricity has been restored to all of Lucis. Additionally, thanks to the efforts of Cindy Aurum and Prompto Argentum, essential outposts have been converted to wind and water power to prevent such a disaster occurring again . . ._

**_Main Man of Maagho More Than a Politician_ **

_Lucis’s very own Deputy First Secretary Weskham Armaugh, representing Accordo on the Council of UNE, has finally released the secret recipe to his signature dish, Lasagna Al Forno—previously known as Maagho Lasagna in Altissia’s famous Maagho Café—just in time for Hootd season . . ._

**_Rare Aspidochelon Sighted: Breeding or Breakfast?_ **

_The Aspidochelon, a creature known for storing considerable nutrients in its hump, is capable of feeding two hundred hungry mouths or more in a single sitting, and Guardians are faced with a distressing dilemma. Do they hunt down the creature roaming south Cauthess, or do they send it to a farm in the hopes of breeding more?_

**_Crush on Kenny Crow_ **

_“He was always decent on the field,” Mat Kishimoto says, “but these last couple of years—it’s like he’s one of our best now, and we still have no idea who he is.”_

_Speculation swept through Lestallum when the mystical mascot appeared on scene the day after EXINERIS’s famous power grid failure. The pugnacious crow simply began showing up to lend a wing wherever he was needed before sharing a meal at a haven then flying off without a word besides his famous slogan._

_“Sometimes he’s missing for days, even weeks at a time,” Kishimoto adds. “I just wish I knew where that short little dude goes when he’s not on our team . . .”_

**_Royal Retinue Rounding Up Royal Sigils_ **

_These boys are fast proving their mettle with their heroic feats and valorous contributions to humanity. With the holidays coming up, let us all take the time to recognize their efforts and thank them for all they do!_

_Starting with Prompto Argentum: the conscientious companion of the King has earned six sigils from the Kings of Yore, but the public is eagerly awaiting what his latest act of heroism will bring. Seventeen lives and a shipment full of supplies were saved as a direct result of Argentum’s actions when a cargo ship full of refugees was attacked by the Devil of the Cygillan . . ._

Ignis snorted in derision as he skimmed over the list of his, Prompto’s, and Gladio’s accomplishments over the last few years and the sigils they’d received as a result. These seals of power and protection were being gifted to everyone, it seemed, but Ignis and the other two refused to equip one. Not only had they found that they could only be wielded one at a time and often enhanced abilities they didn’t need or want in combat, they also hadn’t received a straight answer as to the cost of using one. Ignis still hadn’t forgotten the Old Kings’ trickery towards him in the other universes, and the fact that not a single king had approached Laura also contributed to his decision.  

He closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. Heroic feats, indeed . . ..

***

Ignis flinched as he felt the handle of his mug fall from his limp fingers, but as he waited with his eyes closed for the thud of the porcelain hitting the rug at his feet, the silence of the room indicated that not only was his mug not falling, but that Prompto had also left.

 _Rose?_ He blearily cracked his eyes open to find that his glasses had slipped to the very end of his nose, allowing him a clear view of Laura on her knees in front of him, tugging at his house slippers with a contrite frown on her face and concern brewing in the back of her mind.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, setting the slippers aside and rubbing both her hands up and down his thighs. “I knew you were tired, but this was the happiest I’d seen him in a while.”

He clumsily brought a hand to slip through the long tendrils of hair that she’d left hanging loose from her clip. “’Tis the season for good deeds,” he mumbled. “It was good to see him on his own for a bit. I see neither of you as often as I’d like.”

“Well, he’ll be here tonight. And . . . he’s bringing friends to the party tomorrow.”

“Last minute guests?” he groaned.

“Don’t worry about it for a second. I’m handling everything.” Her hands paused over his knees, and she gave the left one a tight squeeze, frowning ever so slightly. “Has this given you any trouble?”

“Mmm, not since you took care of it,” he said thickly as she squeezed her way back up his thighs.

“Good. You’re about to pass out on me again. Did you want to sleep upstairs or right here?”

“Who is he inviting?” he asked, grazing his fingertips over the apple of her cheek.

He felt her smile more than he could see it through the veil of his heavy eyelashes. “Gutsco . . .”

“Oh, _Astrals_ , not _him_ ,” he moaned. “That man is utterly useless. An insult to the uniform he refuses to wear.”

“Oi! You leave him alone! It’s not easy to keep going out there and getting killed like that.”

“The only thing keeping me from calling him in front of the Council and accusing him of sabotage, and yet I wonder if even that is beyond him.”

“Ignis Scientia!”

“What?” he asked, cracking an eye open to glare at her indignant expression. “I’m sorry, but the King relinquished a portion of his life force for each member inducted. I expect them all to perform, at the very least, beyond the level of that of the most mediocre Accordion foot soldier.”

“He wants to do his part, even if he’s bad at it. No matter how many times that poor man dies, he still comes right back and puts his name on the list for the next mission.”

“Galahdians _are_ well-known for their hard-headedness.”

“And Insomnians, too, you’d do well to remember,” she chastised, but her expression softened as she continued, “Plus . . . I think it’s sort of cute the way he matches his jacket to the element he’s using that day.”

“Does he really? I hadn’t noticed.” Letting out a weary sigh, he said, “Very well, Gutsco is coming tomorrow night. Anyone else?”

“Delilah. I think Prompto’s been seeing her.”

Ignis’s eyes shot open at her words. “The amnesiac white mage with the crossbow?”

“The very same. But as I said, I’m taking care of all the preparations. I even sent Prompto over to dispatch to talk Monica into making something other than that tentacle soup she calls the Eternal Abyss.”

“Thank the stars for that.”

“I do hope you’ll forgive me for any inconvenience I’ve caused,” she said, taking his hand and bringing his palm to her mouth. His skin was always a touch more sensitive when he was sleepy, and this morning was no exception as her soft, plump lips and warm, tickling breaths prickled across his hand and down to his wrist. The hand that was still stroking his thigh moved to the zipper of his jeans. _Will you let me make it up to you?_

He let his lips part at her words as he inhaled deeply, the image of her servicing him searing itself onto his mind’s eye. Astrals, but he couldn’t seem to get enough of her; it had been two months since she’d last been here in Lestallum. Doubtless, she could feel him swelling beneath her hand at the mere suggestion of intimacy, but he removed it from the front of his trousers and reluctantly got to his feet, pulling her up with him and leaning down to press his lips briefly to hers.

“Mmm, perhaps later? As pleasant an experience as it would be, I don’t believe I could ever forgive myself for falling asleep on you,” he mumbled, attempting even in that moment to stifle a yawn.

“Come on, love,” she said, leading him toward the stairs as he slumped against her shoulder. “Let’s get you in bed.”

The next thing he recalled was a vague impression of leaning down to steady himself as he stepped out of his jeans, soft hands on his bare chest in the chilly air, then warm and heavy covers being pulled up to his neck. Had she mentioned being busy today? But never mind. He drowsily stroked at their bond as she wrapped her consciousness around his and pressed another kiss to his forehead.

***

“Noct would’ve hated this cake,” Prompto giggled, stabbing at another enormous bite before shoving it into his mouth.

Laura leaned over the coffee table from her spot at Ignis’s feet to shove at Prompto’s shoulder. “Manners!”

“I won’t deny some small part of me took relish in adding carrots to a cake batter,” Ignis said with a smug smile, but it fell away at the thought of Noct sprawled out on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, moaning at Ignis’s insistence that he put vegetables in _everything_.

Gladio set his empty plate on the edge of the table and leaned back into his corner of the couch, rubbing at his knees. “Damn good stuff though, Iggy. Been missing that cooking of yours. You grow the carrots yourself, Laura?”

“Ignis did. He hasn’t let me up on the roof in months.”

“Sweet indeed are the fruits of one’s own labors,” he replied, attempting to steer the conversation away from why he might have been keeping Laura off the roof.

 _Are you certain you’re all right on the floor? There’s plenty of room for a third here,_ he added to Laura.

Without looking back to him, she wrapped her arm around his calf. _I’ll sit up there if I want. I’m fine down here with Prompto._

Ignis’s attention shifted to Prompto, who had also finished his slice and was longingly eyeing the serving platter in the middle of the table between them. “Laura tells me you’re inviting friends to our celebration tomorrow evening. I didn’t realize you were familiar with Gutsco and Delilah.”

“Well . . .,” Prompto said with a grimace, “I don’t know Gutsco really, but he and Delilah didn’t have a place to go for Hootd, so when I invited Delilah, she asked if he could come too. Hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Laura said. “I told you it was, didn’t I?”

“Not like we don’t have plenty of space. That’s the benefit of having most of the Council in the family—use of HQ,” Gladio said. He leaned forward, placing his forearms on his thighs as he grinned ferally at Prompto. “So where’d you meet her?”

Prompto’s smile dimmed a little as he stared down at his plate. “We’re kinda just friends. Asked her to train with me just outside the power plant, and it was goin’ really good! Then I might’ve . . . petrified her and taken a selfie.”

“Oh, Prompto, you didn’t . . .,” Laura moaned.

But Prompto nodded. “Kinda? She totally buttslammed me after though.”

“I haven’t worked with her in the field, merely in lessons, but she’s a talented healer,” Ignis said.

Gladio snorted. “Who _will_ you work with in the field? Seriously, besides us and Trina, Talcott, and Iris, don’t think I ever see you do a mission with the Guardians.”

“I have my preferred group I’ll work with. Iris and Talcott are specially trained in research and working without lights.”

“Who’d’ve thunk when we left Insomnia that Iggy’d end up liking the dark?” Prompto laughed, leaning back on his arms.

“You’ve done a good job with Iris and Talcott,” Gladio said. “Regular tomb raiders now, and that shit’s deadly with the spells protecting the tombs getting weaker.”

“It feels like only yesterday they were still children,” Ignis said, remembering their bright, youthful faces when the retinue had first arrived in Lestallum after the Fall. “Lady Iris in particular has progressed immensely.”

She was twenty now—almost the age Ignis had been when he’d left home for good. Time seemed to be rushing past them all far too quickly.

“Clarus and Jared would be proud,” Laura said softly, turning to stare up at him with eyes wide with meaning and pity he couldn’t bear to see.

“Our mom, too,” Gladio added.

They grew quiet, each lost in their own thoughts as they sipped at their tea—Yucchi Wild Mountain Black, with its buttery, fruity, yam flavor that went so well with their cake. Ignis tried not to think about the future as he breathed the flavors of the warming liquid across his palate. How many years had passed for Noct in that vision? Would time work the same for him in the Crystal as it did out here in the world? How much longer did Ignis have left to discover a solution? The tombs of the Old Kings had yielded nothing in the way of helping Noct thus far—merely tales of lost loved ones, the regrets of mistakes made, and pleas for the future King of Light to rid the world of the foes they couldn’t defeat themselves.

He wasn’t certain what he was expecting to find, if anything, in the remaining five he had left to explore. The Old Kings seemed to be interested in following the plan set forth by whatever power dictated fate and weren’t keen on offering up any information that could be used to deviate from that path. It wasn’t as though the line whose founding member had struck his own brother from the history books would express much interest in revealing their secrets about Ardyn merely because they were dead now.

Still, he had to try.

Gladio was the one to break the silence by raising his teacup in the air. “To fallen friends and family.”

“To Noct,” Prompto added, rising up on his knees to join in the toast.

“To those we still have left to protect,” Laura said.

“To Eos, to the dawn,” Ignis finished, and they all clinked their cups together.

***

Ignis tied the blue and white striped robe more tightly around his waist and summoned his roof shoes to his hand as he stepped lightly downstairs, but he froze when his other hand brushed against something prickly. Cautiously, he peered over the bannister.

Ignis hadn’t had the opportunity to share a living space with Laura nearly as much as he wished, but he’d found during her stays that while she was an immense help with chores, he often fell victim to her capricious whimsy.

This morning was no exception.

“May I ask why there is an enormous live tree in our house?”

Laura’s head appeared from around the side of the tree, where she had apparently been tying large sparkling bows the color of champagne and cranberry to the evergreen branches.

“I thought you said you decorated your houses for Hootd.”

“With ribbons, flower arrangements, and lights—”

“There are lights right here, see?”

“That’s . . . not the same thing at all.”

He came to stand next to her, staring up at what looked like the tip of a Duscaean pine rising up to their ceiling where the mostly useless television and stand had been only just last night. Strings of small, white lights twinkled in its branches, setting the deep green needles aglow and the bulbs and trinkets to glittering burgundy and gold.

“Where I grew up, we used to do this for Christmas. I’ve been growing this one out at Myrl for the past couple of years to share it with you,” she said in that luminous voice she so often used when she was pulling him off on an adventure, but it grew deadpan at her next words. “And I made certain it won’t come to life and try to kill us.”

“Oh, is that one of your Earth Christmas traditions as well?” he asked, placing an arm around her shoulders and admiring the vibrant colors. “If so, I must say I’m grateful for your restraint.”

“For most people, no, but it did seem to be a tradition for the Doctor.” She leaned heavily into his side and breathed deeply. “Your aftershave reminds me so much of Christmas,” she murmured. “Did you want me to start you a cup of coffee before we do presents?”

“That sounds ideal. I have a quick errand to run outside.”

Ignis had learned their very first Hootd season together that even with his most creative thinking and planning, Laura was impossible to get gifts for. She’d traveled universes for longer than his country had existed and had long ago satisfied her every need or desire. Neither of them held much interest in trifles, so birthdays and Hootd gifts had either focused on sentimentality or survival.

As he’d found himself missing her physical presence so often this year, he’d gone with sentimentality.

Having climbed to the roof and clipped the bush, Ignis did his best to gently shake the morning frost off the bouquet of deep crimson Hootd roses before working the golden ribbon he’d wrapped around the stems into a bow that satisfied him. He carefully placed them into a long, narrow box and replaced the lid—already wrapped and topped with its own burgundy ribbon. Even after several years of this, it was still a strange experience not to be wrapping the latest Assassin’s Creed or console for Noct, and he found some small part of him missed the frying pan or book he would receive in return.

He frowned, smoothing his fingertips over the paper one last time before tucking the box under his arm and heading back inside.

Astrals, but the sight awaiting him was beautiful—Laura’s childlike giddiness bubbling between them as she sat on the floor at the base of the tree and their largest mug filled to the brim with steaming black coffee.

“Happy Hootd, love,” he said softly, folding his legs beneath him to sit next to her and placing his gift under the tree next to the small silver box that presumably belonged to him. Reaching behind him for his coffee, he asked, “So, is there any additional fanfare to this process?”

“Um, no? We just . . . dive in, I guess.”

“Please, after you.”

His chest grew warm at the sight of her grin as she leaned forward and reached for the box he’d just set down, but an edge of anticipation and uneasiness slithered and coiled around his thoughts. Perhaps this had been too simple; perhaps she wouldn’t understand what he’d meant by gifting her with these.

“Ignis,” she breathed when she’d lifted the lid to reveal the bright red bulbs, due to blossom fully by this evening, if he’d timed things correctly.

“I realize it’s in somewhat poor taste to present a woman named Rose with a bouquet of Hootd roses,” he said quickly in the wake of her silence, “but I’m afraid my options for winter-blooming flowers were somewhat limited. And I’m certain you could have grown them better—"

“Shut up,” she said with a light smack to his arm before leaning up to press her lips to his cheek. She leapt to her feet before skipping to the kitchen and pulling a vase down from one of the cabinets. “These are beautiful, thank you. I can’t believe you used up valuable space in the garden for something ornamental like this. Caring for these every day for months on end . . . you really are a sentimental fool.”

So, she had understood. Of course she would.

She set the vase on the bar, caressing one of the velvet petals with a soft smile, before returning to sit next to him again.

“Your turn?” she asked, reaching for his gift and placing it into his hands.

A rush of warmth flooded his cheeks as a slow grin took over his face. He let his fingers trail over the dark blue silk ribbon she’d tied in a perfect bow, wondering what on Eos there was left for her to give him. He took his time unwrapping the box, sliding his thumb under the tape at the corner and appreciating the way the silver paper caught the light even as Laura’s impatience grew ever more noticeable.

“Go on, open it!” she urged, bouncing and fidgeting in response to his slow, methodical movements. “You have no idea how hard it’s been keeping this a secret!”

“I imagine it was, impatient creature that you are,” he chuckled as he revealed the box and lifted the lid. With a frown of inquisitiveness, he plucked out the small phial filled with a clear, viscous fluid and held it up to the light. There were a thousand guesses racing through his head as to what it could be—from magical ingredients to some sort of poison. He looked back down at her shining expression in bemusement.

“Behemoth tears,” she answered his wordless query, her voice brimming with excitement.

“How?”

“Contrary to popular belief, you don’t need to kill them to get some.”

“If anyone could, it would be you.”

She looked up at him with his favorite tongue-touched smile. “I couldn’t have you out there in the field without all the best weapons! I already spoke to Cid. Just drop your lance off with him tomorrow, and you’ll have your dragon whiskers lance a couple of days after. He said for you, he’d even throw in an extra buff, whatever the hell that’s supposed to entail.”

 _Thank you_ , he said, leaning down to smile tenderly against her lips. “I thought I might break tradition this morning and instead make something light for breakfast—toast and fruit. Are you interested?”

“I’ll slice some pears?”

“Pears and toast it is, and a rather fine pairing at that, but there’s no need to pare them. I can eat the skin just fine,” he said as he pulled himself to his feet and offered a hand to help Laura up, but her hand paused before it could make contact, a grimace spreading over her face.

_What is it?_

But the knock at the door answered his question. _Were we expecting anyone over this morning?_ he asked, already knowing that she would never invite guests over to the house in the morning, even if it was a holiday.

_No, but it’s your parents._

_I’m . . . we’re still in our pajamas,_ he protested, frowning down at her dressing gown, but he should have expected this, honestly. Still, he wasn’t feeling up to answering their myriad questions about his life and having them leveled against the son they would’ve had had they raised him themselves.

“Blimey, we can hardly sit in the living room whispering and hiding from them,” she whispered with some amusement. “Go upstairs and change; I’ll get the door.” _You’re not under attack here, love. Prying is just how love works sometimes, or do you not remember Noct being just as irritated with you?_

 _Touché,_ he remarked as he stood to rush up to the bedroom. _Though Noct was actually in need of prying, whereas I tend to be more self-sufficient._

By the time he’d rejoined them downstairs, his mother and father were standing with Laura around the kitchen bar, watching as she cut into what appeared to be a ring of fluffy chiffon cake and placed the slices on four plates.

 _More cake_ , he said flatly.

 _I swear, you are so moody in the mornings,_ she chuckled, ducking her head to hide the smile spreading over her face. She placed a plate in front of each of them as she cajoled, _Come now, they brought it for us. Just eat it and skip dessert tonight if you want, but it’s Hootd. It’s part of the tradition._

“Ignis!” his mother exclaimed, her viridian eyes lighting up as she rushed over. “Happy Hootd, darling!”

Ignis braced himself for the hug he knew was coming as he replied, “Happy Hootd, Mother.”

As she threw herself enthusiastically into his arms, he wrapped them quickly around her before stepping back. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate his mother’s affection, but it seemed that no matter how long he’d had to grow accustomed to it, she still felt a stranger to him, her touch more an invasion of his personal space rather than the familial connection he’d always expected when he imagined a mother’s touch.

He wondered what was the matter with him. Perhaps he was just as cold and unfeeling as everyone claimed him to be.

“Come,” she urged, taking his elbow to lead him to the kitchen. “With Laura in town this year, I thought we’d celebrate. I made your favorite.”

 _Absolutely nothing is the matter with you,_ Laura said harshly. _Just because you don’t run around hugging everyone you know doesn’t mean you don’t care for them. Somewhere, deep down, you must remember them, or you wouldn’t feel that sense of nostalgia I can feel from you now._

“Son,” his father said with a nod when Ignis came to stand by the bar, “Happy Hootd.”

“Father. And to you.”

 _And clearly, some things are genetic,_ she added amusedly. _I bet he’s just as warm with Trina as you are with me._

_I beg of you, please stop there before this heads somewhere unpleasant._

Ignis and Laura both waited patiently for his parents before eating, as they tended to display religious practices at the most unpredictable times. Sure enough, his mother bowed her head, her light brown bob falling forward around her face as his father began to speak.

“Our Lord Ifrit, wherever your soul now wanders, we offer up our thanks this Hootd season—for our health; for our good fortune; for our lovely daughter-in-law. But most of all, we thank you for our son—for keeping him safe and guiding him to become a man who . . .”

Ignis met his father’s intense gaze before breaking eye contact to stare down at the perfectly light texture of the cake on his plate. “. . . despite some personal disagreements, we’re very proud of. We also pray that whatever fate may have befallen you that you are safely returned to your rightful state. In the name of the Infernian.”

The four of them remained silent as they glanced briefly at one another, acknowledging the sentiment but saying nothing. Ignis swallowed the lump that had caught in his throat when his mother picked up her fork, breaking the spell.

Ignis silently picked up his fork and cut a small bite from the slice.

As the flavors of his mother’s cake spread over his palate, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Of course. He should have realized . . .

Fluffy chiffon cake with Mama Edea’s Cinnamon-Churned Honey.


	90. Chapter 90

It seemed like every outpost was doing pretty good these days, all things considered, but maybe because EXINERIS was right there providing power and safety to the people, Prompto could walk down the brightly-lit streets of Lestallum and practically breathe in the confidence that everything would be all right.

He should really come here more often. He could use the reminder now and then.

As much as he’d been missing company, it’d gotten too crowded in that little house with Gladio, Iris, Talcott, Monica, and Dustin, so he’d left ridiculously early for the party and casually strolled through the winding streets, up into the higher cliff parts of the city he’d never visited. Not a single building was boarded up, not a single wall had faded or peeling paint, and not a single piece of trash could be found on the streets. Really, the place looked better than when they’d first visited all those years ago.

There was something to be said about a cheery front making it seem like everything was all right when the surrounding world was literally going to hell. He knew the feeling.

The streetlamps glowed a bright amber, making one particular intersection covered in paper chains and tinsel look so romantic that he had to stop and take a few shots of all the people crazy enough to brave the cold and celebrate Hootd outside. Neighbors huddled around fires burning in metal drums while kids played chocobo’s bluff and drew patterns for hopscotch in sidewalk chalk. And he stood there and laughed as they crowded around to make stupid faces at the camera.

“Hey, brother,” an older dude called out, standing from a table covered in way too much food for an apocalypse to be going on. “You got a place to go? You’re welcome to join us.”

“Thanks!” Prompto said cheerfully, throwing the group of twelve or so an enthusiastic wave. “Got a party to get to, but Happy Hootd!”

“Happy Hootd!” the entire table called back.

Maybe it was the season or the sense of security that came with living in the capital, or maybe it was just the cold making everyone kinder, but this sort of brotherly love attitude wasn’t something he encountered much in the outposts, except maybe Caem. Places like Hammerhead and Cauthess always had a kind of blanket of edgy restlessness because they could be attacked at any second, and everyone always had to be on guard.  

Prompto wondered how Hootd had become all about lights and noise when it was pretty obvious if the lights weren’t strong enough, silence and darkness were the best way to ward off the daemons. The scourge having been dormant for so long might’ve had something to do with people getting it wrong or choosing to rebel over the centuries, he guessed, not to mention that EXINERIS had always provided the outlands with strong enough lighting. But looking down the cliff to the Pegglar Outlook District and seeing the silent, empty streets from this distance, he knew that the Niflians had a more real history with daemons. For them, Hootd was a season of fear, of keeping quiet on the longest night of the year.

No matter how people were choosing to spend this evening, they’d be all right as long as the power stayed on.

His ears just barely caught the upbeat melody of guitars floating on the air, so he turned the corner and followed another street back down, idly searching for the sound. He’d almost made it to the main thoroughfare when he found them—strumming and clapping and stomping their way through the longest night so far in the history of Eos. He stayed out of the way, snapping pictures and enjoying the feeling of moving his body to the beat of something again. But his heart wasn’t in it, so he left them all to dancing and strumming against the dark to check on things at the power plant.

Cause he knew too well that all that happiness could be taken away in a heartbeat.

There was a party going down on the bridge to the power plant too—what looked like every EXINERIS employee and their families packed into the ginormous space so tightly that he had to squeeze his way past more than once to get inside the now brightly-lit plant and up the stairs to Holly’s office.

He knew damn well she wouldn’t be taking the day off just because it was Hootd, so he wasn’t surprised to find her at her desk, gazing out the window that overlooked the entire plant as Cindy sliced into a chocolate cake to put on plates for her and Cid.

“Hey! There’s one of my favorite Hunters!” Holly exclaimed, and he beamed back at the nickname.

“Hey! Thought I’d stop by and check on things.”

“Aww, well ain’t you a sweetheart?” Cindy laughed, placing a slice on a plate and handing it to Cid behind her. “Always lendin’ a hand.”

“Good thinkin’, son. Day like this is the perfect time to catch us with our britches down,” Cid said with a nod of approval.

“You wanna stay fer some cake?” Cindy asked, her hand going to the knife on Holly’s desk, but Prompto shook his head.

“I better not. Still got Iggy and Laura’s party to go to, and don’t you?”

“Yeah, we’re leavin’ here in a bit. Wanted to spend some time with Holly here first,” Cindy said.

“You’re not coming? I thought Laura invited you.”

Holly’s expression scrunched together like she was trying to remember something. “I kinda remember one of you boys offering, but I gotta stay here and hold things down at the fort.”

“Okay, well, I just wanted to check in, let you know I was gonna take a circuit of the place before heading out,” Prompto replied, backing toward the door and grinning. “Happy Hootd!”

“Thanks for the extra hand! If you run into any trouble, just yell. Added some extra girls on security tonight just in case. Happy Hootd!”

He walked in silence along the suspended metal platform that encircled the power plant in a maze of spirals and stairs, but he stopped and cheerfully greeted each and every EXINERIS girl he came across, asking if they’d seen anything out of the ordinary this evening. They hadn’t, and the normalcy was starting to make his fingers itch a little. When had he forgotten how to relax and have a good time? He was supposed to be Prompto Argentum—party animal.

He was grateful for the fresh, cold night air when he finally stepped back outside. The thermoelectric incinerators not only put off waves of stifling heat he wasn’t dressed for dealing with, but the smell of burning meteor clung to the suffocating, humid atmosphere so that he could almost taste it when he breathed in. As he unzipped the coat Laura had given him to get some circulation going and took long, cleansing breaths, he wondered how the hell any of those EXINERIS workers ever got used to the temperature and smell.

From the power plant, he strolled along the main thoroughfare, past the noisy shindig that was probably mostly made up of Surgate’s people, and toward the front road. He didn’t turn his head to the right for one particular block because he didn’t think he could stomach the sight of the last place she’d been alive.

His steps grew shorter and quicker as he turned onto the main road, the chill of the night definitely not stopping him from taking the long way to the Council’s front door—because nothing ever would. Now that he’d entered the government district closer to the outskirts, it’d grown quiet enough that he could hear his steps on the pavement and cold enough that he could see his breath billowing out from his mouth like a cloud each time he exhaled.

The memory of him and Noct pretending to smoke on the days it’d been cold enough back in Insomnia rose up in his mind like a corpse in the Alstor Slough, but he shoved the thought away.

He was jogging by the time he’d reached the old Cotton Alley factory, even if he had no idea what he was running away from, but the air freezing his lungs with every gasping breath reminded him that he was alive, gods damn it, and he wasn’t gonna give up no matter what. Even over the slapping of his feet on the pavement, he could hear laughter coming from inside the building as he passed, and he bet he was close enough that Laura could feel him out here, silently freaking out over . . . what, exactly?

As he turned down the street that led around the back of the building, he hoped she wouldn’t come out here. He always wanted—needed—to be alone for this.

Prompto stepped under the corrugated tin overhang that had been built along the back wall of the training facility, averting his eyes away from the first four of the twenty glass cases that had been installed underneath the long row of barred, half-moon windows. Stepping around the dried flowers and half-melted candles and barely registering the near-solid surface of paper curling at the edges, his heart pounded a little in his throat at the idea of accidentally catching sight of someone he recognized. What if he found a photo of some long-forgotten person he’d once sat next to in high school? What if the guy that had served them burgers at the food cart outside the Coernix Station was up there?  It was hard enough coming here to visit people he already knew were dead without running into those he hadn’t known about, so he didn’t let his eyes focus on the glass kept clean by the constant parade of volunteers until he had reached his one little corner of the fifth case, eye level.

He never could resist saying hello to her when he was in town, but then he’d always have to say goodbye.

And there she was. He’d taken that picture of her leaning against her truck and posing with his quicksilver the night of their very first date, which had been kinda shitty, since it’d only been a quick dinner at Takka’s before they both had to get back to work, but that was the night his life had changed forever. Her rich brown curls had been catching the light from the floodlights that night, only making her smile that much brighter. But Six, what kinda person was he that he was starting to forget the exact sound of her laugh? That he couldn’t remember exactly what she’d been wearing that evening she’d led him to his tiny apartment next to the chocobo shed behind the diner, sat him down on his own bed, and kissed him until he’d about died from the pleasure? Even the image of her biting her lip when she came was starting to grow a little hazy in his head.

“Hey girl,” he said thickly, his stupid voice trembling with the effort of holding back everything he was feeling in that moment. “Thought I’d stop by and wish you a Happy Hootd.” He placed his hand on the glass over her image and let his voice drop along with his head. “I’m tryin’ to move on like you said, but it’s kinda hard, ya know?”

He exchanged his hand for the top of his head as he stared down at his boots. “Looking on the bright side, I guess you showed me it was possible for someone to love me like that, but . . ..”

Delilah. It’d taken him a while, but he was finally experienced enough with girls to have an idea when one was interested in him. He liked hanging out with her even more than Cindy these days; it wasn’t often he could find a girl willing to join in his rants about the Assassin’s Creed collab getting pulled from his favorite RPG before he could get the medjay assassin’s robes for his characters. Most people just pointed out that things like videogames were ancient history without getting that he was just trying to keep some sense of normalcy, but she always understood.

But getting involved with her, letting her in deeper . . .  he didn’t know. The worst that could’ve happened to him had happened, and he lived through it, but he wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about living through all that again. The experience had been ten thousand cactuar needles’ worth more terrible than dying himself. And the fact that part of him was glad she was a Glaive so she’d be less likely to get infected had to be some kinda sign he wasn’t ready to move on, right? How sick of a thought was that, anyway?

He wouldn’t even be doing this weird in-between dating thing they were doing if it weren’t for that day on the bridge, when she’d thoroughly kicked his ass, stood over him with that disarming smirk and green eyes so dark they were nearly black, and told him right then and there that she expected a rematch the next time they were in the same place.

He’d been honest with her when she’d started getting flirty, so she at least understood why he was being a dickwad. But then she and some of the other Glaives had had their memories restored, and she seemed to need comforting even more than he did now.

As he stood there with his bare forehead pressed tightly against the glass thinking about the girl that wasn’t in the photo he was standing in front of, an intense, bluish light shined through his eyelids, growing bright enough that he knew exactly who had interrupted his moment. He’d been expecting this, so he merely let out a tired sigh before turning to face whichever king he’d pleased because of what he’d done in Galdin.

Like a sigil had really been the reason he’d done it.

**“Prompto Argentum.”**

“Um . . . hi—uh, Your Majesty,” he stuttered, just remembering to fold himself into a bow.

He never recognized these old kings by the wacky battle armor they wore, and this guy with his long curtains of heavy fabric and chainmail was no exception. His helm was tiny compared to the rest of his body, kind of reminding Prompto of a duck’s head set onto Gladio’s body, with the curling wings of Angelgard rising up on either side of his neck.

He tried not to let the thought pass through his head, but he wondered if this king had died in battle because he couldn’t see a gods damn thing on either side of him. Living in a war zone was starting to make him think of weird little things like that.

But recognition dawned over Prompto when the old king raised his trident high in the air—Luna’s trident, so this must’ve been the Oracle King.

**“Child of Man, you have grieved for the souls of those you have lost, for the souls you have yet to lose. The time has come to take up their banner and carry the battle in their name.”**

The soul he had yet to lose was the very scenario he’d been trying not to think about every time the topic of Penelope came up, but he still had time before it would be Noct’s turn. Iggy was still working on things, so he shoved the Lucii’s certainty aside for the time being.

So this visit obviously wasn’t about Galdin, but he didn’t get how his thing with Penelope was . . . oracley enough to warrant a visit from the Oracle King—or even his business at all—so he asked.

**“As I took up the staff of my Oracle upon her death, so too, must the Sword-Sworn take up the staff of those who would fight against the darkness and carry on, for the darkness in one’s soul can conquer even the brightest of the Warriors of Light.”**

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” he said, dipping into another bow, even if he still didn’t think it was any of this guy’s business whether he moved on or not.

**“Then take my sigil, Child of Man.”**

Prompto held out his hand and waited until the light from the Old King’s spectral image faded away before he looked down at the sigil—that same ornately carved silver shield as the rest of them, but with an inlaid golden image of a sylleblossom on it. He dismissed it to his armiger without a second thought, intending to ask one of the Glaives later just what the hell it was supposed to do. As he approached the front door to the Council building, he wondered if Delilah was already waiting for him, since she’d been staying in the bunk room attached to the training center.

That was the shitty thing about being an amnesiac Glaive, he’d realized when he’d started spending time with her. She had no one to stay with when she visited outposts, no friends besides the Guardians she’d gotten to know since the Fall, and no family. People in the streets would always go quiet when she and the others passed, even though she and her fellow Glaives had done a literal fuckton for people since then. Even Iggy acted kinda weird in the rare cases he was around them.

Thankfully, Bahamut hadn’t restored their memories of what they’d all done on the day of the Fall. He thought he could forgive Delilah for whatever she’d done in the name of her home, but it would’ve felt like a betrayal to Noct’s dad to do it, especially with his own crazy origins and already questionable loyalties.

“Prompto,” Laura breathed when she’d opened the door before he could. Even though it’d only been like, twenty hours since he’d last seen her, she pulled him into her arms and squeezed him like she hadn’t seen him in years. “Happy Hootd, babe.”

“Yeah, you too,” he replied, and she pulled back to lead him by the hand to the training room.

“How’re you feeling?”

She was giving him that side eye, and really, he knew she was only bothering to ask to be polite because she knew exactly how he was feeling, but hey, fake it till you make it, right?

“Awesome!” he exclaimed. “And you?”

But he had to stop and gape like an idiot when the door to the training room opened to reveal what she’d done with the place.

Things had been pretty scary for those first few years—with the power outage, rescuing all the stranded people, and everyone in Lucis hating Iggy and his government—so Hootd season had been all about him and Cindy sharing a ration in the middle of a circle of lights in the garage as the generators roared in the background. Even now in this time of relative prosperity, stuff like gift giving was pretty rare and had more to do with precious commodities for staying alive than the kinda stuff he used to get as a kid. A pulse bow that shot out ten thousand kilowatts of electricity was gonna do way more to keep Delilah alive than anything else he could’ve gotten her, but it made him feel kinda bad that his gift hadn’t been more fun, like the zoom lens she’d somehow managed to find for his camera.

But the live trees, twinkling lights, bright draping fabric covering up the depressing white brick, soft instrumental music that seemed to come from nowhere, the food, the groups of people talking with their laughter echoing off the walls—it all combined into a whirling tornado of color and sound that made him realize he’d grown used to bare and quiet. This swank room filled with people was almost too much for him now. When had the King of the Arcade become an oversensitive wimp?

In the center of the room—made so much larger by Laura folding back the walls to the two practice rooms—sat the long wooden table that the Council of the United Nations of Eos used for their meetings, covered in more food than Prompto had seen in one place since the ball in Altissia.

“You all right?” Laura asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said softly. Searching for a reason to escape her standing there _knowing_ everything about him, he pointed to Gutsco sitting alone near the end of the table. “Gonna see if he’s seen Delilah.” Without waiting for her response, he rushed over and plopped down on the empty seat next to him.

“Hey! Happy Hootd, buddy!” Prompto greeted, slapping him on the shoulder like they were friends, because he seemed kinda like a lonely guy. And it wasn’t like Prompto wasn’t aware of his reputation.

Prompto remembered what it felt like to be him.

“You too!” he said with a smile. He side-eyed a silver dish of scalloped potatoes before turning to toss Prompto a quick, awkward wink. “Delilah isn’t here. Wanted to make an appearance at a Guardian party before she came back. You check your texts?”

“Oh, no,” he said, pulling out his phone, but he hadn’t gotten any new messages. “Got used to not checking since reception’s still kinda weird around Hammerhead and Caem. She hardly ever texts cause of that. Why didn’t you go to the Guardian thing?”

“Oh, um . . . I didn’t feel like it,” he said shiftily before leaning in close and lowering his voice. “I uh . . . kinda dunno what I’m doing here. Think I got invited by mistake, but I don’t got anywhere else, so I figured—free grub, ya know?”

Laughter bubbled over from the other end of the table, where Talcott had just opened a new set of plunderers and was leaping up to hug Cid and Cindy. Prompto had already given him his gift last night—one of Delilah’s old crossbows that he’d upgraded a little—and he knew Iggy and Laura planned on giving him a box of all different kinds of poisons.

Weirdest Hootd ever for a twelve-year-old kid, but he guessed those were the times they were living in nowadays.

“Nah, you totally belong here!” Prompto said, turning back to Gutsco. “I asked Iggy and Laura myself if you could come. They said they’d love to have you.”

Gutsco’s eyes widened a fraction before he ducked his head, wisps of his long brown hair falling out of his spiracorn tail.

“I remember now, thinkin’ I was pretty good back in Galahd. Guess Delilah was always tryin’ to look out for me. But I’m not stupid, no matter what people say. I’m outta shape and not really good in a fight. _Everyone_ here is like . . . a living legend.”

It was Prompto’s turn to be surprised as he took in Gutsco’s words. _Everyone_ a living legend, even him? To be honest, he still kinda saw himself in Gutsco’s position, on the fringes, not good at much . . . even the overweight thing if they were including when he was a kid. But it was true he’d been to hell and back with the gang, and he’d found his happy spot between training the war chocobos with Laura and Wiz and handling the tech and machinery with Cid and Cindy. Well, as happy as he could get, anyway.

Maybe that was Gutsco’s problem—finding his happy spot.

“Well, what’s your weapon?” Prompto asked, wondering if he could maybe help him out with some equipment or something.

“Magic mostly, but I use whatever I’m in the mood for—shuriken, mace, katana, polearm . . ..”

“Well there’s your problem!” Prompto laughed. “You can’t be good at all the weapons. You gotta choose one, maybe two!”

“I’m beginning to believe our weapons specialists need additional training,” Cor interrupted as he took a seat across from Prompto. “They’d allowed King Venetus to use a rapier, of all things, for years.”

Prompto felt two hands settle on his shoulders and squeeze, and he looked up to see Trina beaming down at him. “Prompto!”

“Happy Hootd, Tr—Your Majesty,” he said, correcting himself and hoping Gutsco hadn’t noticed how he’d almost called the Queen of Tenebrae by her first name, but then again, she’d always been pretty familiar with him. Was it okay for him to call her Trina in public? He didn’t really know the rules.

“Cor,” she greeted with a wide smile as she took a seat next to King Venetus. “Happy Hootd.”

“Fortunately,” Venetus said, frowning over at Cor, “I wasn’t in a position where the oversight could have gotten me killed. It’s quite another matter for a Guardian to be inappropriately matched. See to it that this ceases to become an issue, General.”

“I’ll make it my first priority tomorrow, Majesty.”

“I’d also like to see about setting up some sort of screening procedure for the general population regarding magic.”

“Oh?”

“We’ve operated in a world for so long that relied on House Caelum’s access to the Crystal that we’ve forgotten that Niflheim must be able to wield the power to some extent to create their Magitek, and in the same vein, Solheim before them.”

“Venetus and I have gone all our lives without knowing we could access the Crystal without the King,” Trina added. “How could such a thing have happened?”

“I knew about your spiritual magic, but I didn’t realize His Majesty also displayed an aptitude,” Cor remarked, leaning forward in his chair.

“I can cast some faint fire and healing spells, but nothing with the potency of the Glaive or Duke Scientia,” Venetus added.

Iggy sat at the end of the table, nodding in greeting to everyone before he said, “Even I am beginning to learn to access my magic without the aid of my bond through the King, though my spells are far less powerful. It seems as though society has come to rely on House Caelum for its connection to the Crystal and by extension, magic itself. I wonder why?”

Prompto was waiting for him to continue when Iggy’s eyes darted up to a point above Prompto’s head, and he turned to see Laura standing behind him with a serious look on her face. Iggy frowned back at her. The exchange lasted no more than half a second, definitely not long enough for anyone at the table to be weirded out by it.

Then Laura said, “It’s probably because technological advancements had reached a point where it could accomplish the same things as magic but without the hassle of extensive training and human error. Then people relied more and more on the houses that could create magic without the Crystal and tie other people to the Crystal for stronger magic. Why go back to the old way when the new way is easier and more powerful? Why even test the population for independent Crystal users when it isn’t necessary?”

“Was this what you studied in school, Your Grace?” Trina asked. “I thought you were a doctor.”

Prompto was starting to get a little antsy glancing down at the empty seat next to him, so as Laura waved a vague hand in the air and said, “Ohhh, I’m a bit of a polymath,” he stood and quietly asked Gutsco to save both their chairs. He threw a quick wave to Dustin and Monica as they took their seats next to Iris and Talcott and had almost made it to the open door that led to the Council building when Laura’s voice right behind him stopped him in his tracks.

“You’re not going far, are you? We’re going to eat the second Delilah, Gladio, and Aranea get here.”

“Nah, just wanna look down the street to see if Delilah’s almost here. Maybe send her a text. Sania not coming?”

“She hasn’t been by Myrlwood for a while now, and I couldn’t pin her down in one location long enough to invite her.” She took a step closer, searching his eyes. “Really. How are you doing?”

This was why he didn’t wanna make a big deal out of inviting Delilah; it’d been so much easier to figure out his own mess of thoughts and feelings and move on when everyone wasn’t watching him so closely. This DNA thing wasn’t exactly helping, either. He’d donate as much blood as Laura wanted him to if it meant finding a cure, but he kinda didn’t want to know about how him being born in a test tube was gonna affect him for the rest of his life. Who knew what kinda weirdness would come back to bite him in the ass because of that? As it was, he already knew far too much about his own future for his liking; it was bad enough inspecting his hairline every morning.

“I’m good . . . really!” he added when she twisted her lips doubtfully at him. Because as he looked around at the glowing room filled with food and laughter—and all the people actually wanting him there—he figured he was really one lucky son of a gun, surrounded by more people who cared about him than he’d ever had back home. His parents might’ve been dead and not who they’d said they were, and his creator might’ve been a psycho. His first real girlfriend might’ve been dead, but he had a family for the first time in his life.

That was the kinda thing he definitely wanted to keep with him forever.

“Lemme go see what’s taking her so long, and then I’ll come back and get some shots of everyone, kay?”

A funny kind of smile crossed her lips as she tilted her head. “All right, and could you usher Gladio and Aranea in here when you go out there?”

“Uhh, yeah. No prob.”

But he found out nearly immediately the reason for that smirk on Laura’s face and why her request was gonna be more difficult than walking into the room and telling them to hurry it up. As he passed through the open doorway between the thick brick walls and the dull roar of the party lowered to a murmur, he heard Gladio’s voice, higher pitched and whinier than usual.

“Come on, real quick. No one would notice.”  

“You’re nuts if you think you’re gonna talk me into this. I’m hungry,” Aranea said in a low tone that sounded to Prompto like she was kinda pissed. He squinted into the dim room, lit by the streetlights coming in through the half-glass front doors, and he could just make out the silhouette of her spiracorn tails pulled back, swinging back and forth as she shoved at Gladio’s shoulder. “Besides, maybe I’m less into quick ones these days as a full-grown woman. Maybe I prefer long ones.”

“Mmm, I got a long one for ya right here, baby. Just come on upstairs with me.”

A part of Prompto really wanted to interrupt, because if they found him standing here listening, he wasn’t sure which one of them would end up decapitating him first. But there was something sickly fascinating with the way Gladio worked—like he knew for sure Aranea wasn’t gonna hand his balls to him on a platter for talking to her like that. He knew for a fact that Gladio was still trying to get into the pants of every woman he came across, including Sania, so what made him think Aranea would be cool with him playing her?

“Call me ‘baby’ again, and I’ll rip your balls off.”

Prompto had to cover his mouth and remind himself just how scary Aranea could be to keep from snorting with laughter, but Gladio answered, “Come on, show me how you work a lance. You’re the best I know, and you know it.”

He could hear the smirk in her voice as she replied, “You could probably stand to be taught a lesson or two in using your own . . ..”

Prompto had just enough time to register a soft step from behind him as Iggy’s smooth, calm tone interrupted. “Unfortunately, the training room isn’t available for lancework at the moment, given the Hootd celebration, and the only facilities available upstairs would be my office. I daresay my desk is hardly appropriate for sparring. Won’t you join the others instead?”

On Iggy’s first word, the two shadows that had merged into one snapped apart so quickly they looked like they’d been hit with a thunder spell.  

“Uh . . . yeah. Sorry, Ig,” Gladio muttered as he smoothed the hair he had half tied back.

It seemed like Aranea didn’t have anything to add, and neither made eye contact as the two of them shuffled past into the larger room. Would they really have ended up having sex on Iggy’s desk if someone hadn’t interrupted? Talk about living on the edge.

Prompto thought Iggy was going to turn and follow them back to the party, but he bowed his head a little instead, gesturing with an open hand toward the front door of the administration building.

“I believe you were going to send Miss Delilah a text.”

“Oh yeah,” he said as he fumbled to pull out his phone and headed toward the door. As he pushed the lock button, a missed text flashed across the screen.

_Warping my way there! Sorry running late._

“Yeah, she’s on her way. Sorry about her being late.”

“Dinner will keep, and it’s good to be reassured that all is well,” he replied smoothly, but the way he crossed his arms and fixed Prompto with a penetrating stare made Prompto feel a little like he was on trial for his choice in friends. He knew one of Iggy’s biggest things besides cleanliness was punctuality, and he was already weird about amnesiac Glaives. He wanted Iggy, Laura, and Gladio to approve of Delilah—probably more than he should, but there was pretty much no worse way for her to start off on a bad foot with Iggy than running late for something.

“Yeah, it’s really great you guys got everyone together like this. All this . . . family stuff—it’s a good reminder, ya know? Sometimes it can get sort of isolated out in Hammerhead and Caem.”

“No man is an island. We all need reminding now and then of what we fight so relentlessly to keep.”

“That’s our Iggy,” he chuckled. “Spreadin’ the love.”

“Love in all its forms is vital to the survival of mankind. It’s part of what makes us human,” Iggy said, not meeting Prompto’s eyes as he stared out the glass panes of the front door to the lit-up street outside. “But it’s also important to remember that though love enriches our lives and can inspire us to become better people, it doesn’t necessarily have to define who we are.”

Prompto had missed when the philosophical debate had started on love, but Iggy’s words and Prompto’s sudden, instinctual reaction to them brought a sudden, sharp moment of clarity that laid the path in front of him suddenly open and easy to decipher. Even though he knew he wasn’t gonna be able to match any kinda philosophy Iggy could come up with, he did happen to have an opinion on this one.

“Maybe it does for me. And maybe that’s okay.”

Iggy still didn’t look over at him as a single eyebrow arched above the frame of his glasses. “I suppose . . . to each his own.” After a second, he narrowed his eyes, squinting out into the street. “Is it . . . snowing?”

Prompto followed his gaze to see fat, white flakes falling intermittently here and there among the black backdrop of the sky, turning amber as they caught the light of the streetlamp and flurrying their way to the ground. Had he been in Insomnia, the sight would’ve made him ecstatic. He and Noct might’ve rushed out to his balcony to catch a few and examine them. But things had changed since then, and the sight of snow kinda made him sick now.

“Yeah, looks that way,” he said in a low voice.

He jumped when Iggy suddenly barked out a laugh—full and joyous in a way Prompto definitely wouldn’t’ve expected to come from him with his eyes still heavy from too many restless nights.

“Uhh . . . you okay there?” he asked.

Iggy’s laughter slowly trailed off as he bent his head to wipe his eye from underneath his glasses. But as he looked over to meet Prompto’s gaze, they were bright green and glittering. “Apologies. It’s just that I’ve never had the opportunity to enjoy the snow. We’ll all have to go for a walk at some point this evening—a life adventure with the lot of us.”

“Hey Iggy?”

Iggy sobered immediately at Prompto’s tone. “Yes?”

“You got any news on saving Noct yet?”

His smile fell away, and even though Prompto hated being responsible for yanking away his second of joy, he really needed to know. “No.”

“Oh. Is there anything we can do to help?”

Iggy let out a long sigh, running a bare hand up into his hair to smooth out his pompadour. “You can assist by continuing to help the people, as they are our top priority. As I’ve told you all before, I can only leave when things are running smoothly.”

“How many tombs you got left?”

“Five.”

“Well, it’s only been five years, right? So we got time? How much longer until Noct wakes up, do ya think?”

“I don’t know. We don’t know,” he said, a rumbling growl of frustration hinted in his tone, and Prompto grew silent, wishing he could’ve brought this up on another day.

Through the shimmering curtain of falling snow, Prompto spotted a moving patch of white in the distance, growing larger the longer he watched.

“That’s her,” he said, pointing to Delilah’s signature white Galahdian Glaive coat.

Iggy nodded and turned back toward the party. “Then I’ll allow you to greet her in private.”

“Thanks, Ig. And hey, Happy Hootd.”

“And to you,” he replied.

Iggy let out another long, slow breath as he strode to the back door. Before he passed through the doorway and into the blast of sound, Prompto thought he heard Iggy chuckle bitterly.

“Halfway out of the dark, indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The concept of the whiteboard with the population count in the last chapter and the memorial wall in this chapter come from Battlestar Galactica.


End file.
